Nightshade by Jaide Fox Read Free Book Online Page A

studied her needlework for some moments. “They think that I had something to do with his death?” she finally asked in a low voice.
     
    Marta sent her a sharp look. “If they do I’ve nae heard it, but ye can nae trust that that won’t enter their minds … specially since ye sent yer maids away the other night and have been chirpin’ like a song bird ever since.”
     
    Bronwyn couldn’t help it. She turned so fiery red her cheeks felt as if they’d caught flame. “That’s … absurd! They are speculating that I … that I … only because I wished to be alone?”
     
    Marta shook her head. “It’s nae fer me ta say if ye choose a lover. But ye’ve nae the temperament ta be any good at pullin’ the wool over everyone’s eyes. An’ if they start thinkin’ ye’ve takin’ a lover, next they’ll be speculatin’ about when … and whether he had anythin’ to do with Lord Smytheson takin’ the notion he could fly.”
     
    Marta had come so close to the truth, Bronwyn felt downright faint.
     
    Focusing her mind on her needlework again, she allowed the subject to drop, hoping that Marta would take the hint and leave it, as well.
     
    To her partial relief Marta appeared to be satisfied only to have warned her, but she could not find any real relief knowing what the servants had been speculating about already.
     
    She need not fear for Nightshade, she knew, for he was no weak mortal and none could touch him … she didn’t think. It was another matter entirely where she was concerned. If the king’s man did get wind of the gossip, she was liable to find herself questioned about her husband’s death at the very least and … the worst didn’t bear thinking on.
     
    She was angry with herself for being so careless and stupid, for allowing herself to become so wrapped up in her pleasure that she had failed to realize that it was far more than an inner joy. It showed, and people noticed.
     
    She should not have indulged her private musings at all, should have put the incident completely from her mind when it was over … for it was over. The danger aside, Nightshade was not her lover. What had happened between them had been a pleasant interlude--more than pleasant, truth be told, but no more than that. She could not take him as her lover. She could not even wish for it. It should have been enough that she had found pleasure in giving him ease when she had not expected to.
     
    She did not regret it. She had given her word and she had honored it. Moreover, the fact that it had been such a wondrous experience had completely changed her outlook over the marriage the king had decreed. She had been so revolted over the marriage bed she had thought it must always be that way and she had dreaded having to take another man to husband. Now that she knew it could different, she at least had some hope that she would be able to endure another husband.
     
    Unfortunately, that thought summoned Nightshade to her mind and, try as she might, she could not make herself believe that the man the king chose for her would even begin to compare favorably. He might well be worse than William had been.
     
    Dismay filled her at that thought--not just the possibility that the man might be a vicious brute, but the realization that she had not even met the man and already found herself deeply reluctant--held little belief that he could possibly compare favorably with Nightshade.
     
    Perhaps Nightshade had not truly given her something wonderful at all. Mayhap he had only succeeded in ruining any hope she might have had of finding acceptance, if not contentment in her marriage.
     

     

     

Chapter Seven
     

     
    The snow falling past her chamber window perfectly suited Bronwyn’s mood. The king’s man, Sir Horace Fitzhugh, had blown into Raventhorne with the first blizzard of the year and the snow had not ceased to fall since his arrival a fortnight earlier. It had only alternated between a light to heavy fall until drifts were