Geoffrey Condit by Band of Iron Read Free Book Online Page A

must sing like something from heaven.  She’d heard one voice before equal to his, in the choir of St. David’s Abby close to home.  “Thank you, Bess.  I’m sure we’ll be great friends.”
        “I hope so.”  The girl grinned.  “May I call you Catharine?  You don’t look like an Aunt.  An aunt seems so old and stuffy.”
        “Indeed.   I don’t think of myself as old and stuffy.”
        Peter rang the bell.  Instantly a servant appeared.  “You must forgive me, Catharine.  I’ve eaten long ago.  There is business to attend to.”   He smiled and arranged some papers he’d been writing.  “You looked as if you could use the rest, so I let you sleep.  You have only to ask, and Robert will bring you whatever you wish to eat and drink.  Bess will stay, and give you a tour of your new home until time for her lessons.”  He saluted her cheek, bowed and left the room.  The feel of his warm lips on her cheek, the musical timber in his voice, and his fresh scent left her warm.  Her eyes followed him.
        “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”
        Catharine turned to the smiling girl.  “Love?  I’m afraid it isn’t like that.  We were required to marry each other.”
        “I know.”  Bess’s lips continued to smile, her young voice pleased.  “But it could be.  Don’t be put off by  his scar, Catharine.  He’s very sweet inside.”
        “How old are you?”
        “Twelve.”  Bess grinned.  “Peter says I’m twelve going on twenty-five.”
        Catharine found herself laughing.  Robert bowed, offering a silver plate.  “My lady will find an array of food on the platters before the windows. There are four choices of wine or ale this morning.   If you wish, I can serve you or you may see fit to fill your plate.”  The silver haired man, impeccably dressed, waited, his ruddy face beaming with expectation.  “Mary belle, the cook, sends her regards.”
        “Thank you, Robert.  I’ll see for myself.”  Catharine swallowed in disbelief at the display of food.  The quality and variety took her breath away.  Asparagus in white cream sauce, sturgeon baked in cinnamon, pike stuffed with chestnuts. A variety of breads, tarts, and meat pies waited on the side board with the watered wines and ales.  She filled her plate with sparing delicacy, and accepted ale in an inlaid green glass goblet.  Glass windows were common in great houses and castles, but goblets such as this she’d never seen before.
        “It’s from Lord Peter’s glassworks in Antwerp, my lady.”
        “I thought Venice kept this sort of thing a closely guarded secret.”
        “The knowledge escaped to Germany,”  Peter said from the doorway.
        Catharine jerked, startled.  Ale from her goblet sloshed, but did not spill.
        “We import it from both places,” Peter said.  “My masters experiment to their joy and our profit.”   
        The deep full music of his voice filled her.  She wanted it to last forever.  But anger from the forced marriage and their disagreements blasted to the surface.  She sucked in a deep breath, trying to settle her jagged emotions.  His golden eyes were hard to read.  I married a merchant.  Not a lord.  The anger trembled in her throat, and she fought it down.
        “You will be meeting my people in a great dinner tonight, Catharine.  It’s in your honor.”  His smile, light and charming, puckered the scar.
        She averted her eyes from this thing of savage violence.  Her anger at the scar worked raw and unbidden, catching her breath.  She shook her head, astonished at the anger’s virulence.  Spoiling such a beautiful face.  How can I hate a scar or a marriage that hasn’t happened yet?  “Thank you, my lord.”
        “My name is Peter, Catharine.” His flint topaz eyes searched hers.  “Try saying it sometime, but not until it pleases the tongue.”  He picked up a