Forbidden by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online Page A

Ham, and in moments they were in. The two young men stopped dead at the sight of Serena, even in her shawl, and their mouths fell open.
    "Stop gawking," snarled Mr. Post, and they both colored and looked elsewhere. "Remember. ' The lips of a strange woman drop as a honeycomb, but her end is bitter as wormwood.'"
    "Mr. Post," said Francis quite pleasantly, "if your sons offend my wife, I will not be answerable for the consequences."
    The man's hand clenched. "If it were godly to do so, Mr. Haile, I'd throw you and your wife back into the storm."
    Francis let that wash over him, but godly household or not, he was concerned about the sleeping arrangements here. He was uneasy about any situation that would put Serena Allbright at the mercy of the young Post men, who bore strong resemblance to bullocks scenting their first heifer.
    He had to wonder whether he, despite his gloss of sophistication, was exhibiting the same panting awareness. He was aware of her to a distracting degree. Even the assorted smells of the Posts' kitchen could not entirely drown out her perfume, and as she was sitting close beside him, he was deeply aware of her body touching his.
    He risked a glance at her. Her skin was amazing. It was like a pearl—flawlessly pale and yet glowing with an inner light. Her eyes rested on the plain wall opposite, and he could appreciate the extraordinary length and thickness of her lashes. Her nose had a decided tilt, but he could not make himself see it as a fault. It simply made her seem vulnerable and childlike.
    Unlike a child, however, she sat in composed silence with never a twitch.
    Was it weariness or discipline? He wouldn't expect a loose woman to have such control. Was she wife or whore? Which did he want her to be?
    Francis reminded himself that he was about to offer marriage to a virtuous young lady and dragged his eyes away.
    It seemed that everyone had decided silence was golden, and it sat heavily in the room except for the sounds of the women's work, and a repetitive whistling snore from the old woman. Francis passed the time by trying to devise acceptable explanations for Serena's plight, but he found himself too weary to put much effort into it.
    Then the supper was spread on the table. Plain food but good, thank the heavens: thick barley soup, slices of ham with cabbage, and fresh bread with gooseberry jam. After a lengthy grace, heavily larded with references to the virtues of a simple, godly life as opposed to one of idle luxury, they all set to. Francis ate with relish and noted that Serena did, too. Of course, he had no way of knowing how long it had been since she'd last eaten.
    He knew nothing about her at all.
    She was undoubtedly a problem, for what innocent reason could there be for a lady to wander around unescorted in November? It cast into doubt any idea that she was respectably married. The best he could imagine was that she was a widow turned mistress and callously abandoned by her protector. Even if her virtue was dubious, however, it wasn't in his nature to turn away from any woman in distress.
    What on earth was he to do with her?
    Since his trip to Weymouth could be sensitive, he had done without his groom. He couldn't take a strange adventuress along. But he equally couldn't leave her here. Perhaps when he had a chance to speak to her alone, there would prove to be something simple he could do to straighten out her circumstances.
    How could he arrange to speak to her alone in this cramped household?
    As the meal ended, he realized that speaking to her alone was going to be no problem at all. They were to have a private room.

 
     
     
    Chapter 4

     
    The Posts kept country hours and on these short days the women went to bed as soon as the supper dishes were cleaned. The men would follow after the last farm-work of the day.
    Before going out to see to his stock, Jeremy Post held a final, lengthy Bible-reading, including the pointed instruction:
    "Keep thee from the evil of the