The Dumont Bride by Terri Brisbin Read Free Book Online

himself standing within the great hall. More of the servants’ efficient work was on display there—clean, well-set tables, fresh rushes on the floor, an orderly pattern to those working to prepare the room and the meal. Excitement filled the very air surrounding him and he knew from the covert glances and whispered words, and from the feeling deep in his gut, that he was the center of what was to come.
    Looking around the perimeter of the room, he sought the location of the solar. A young woman approached him, curtsying before him.
    “Milord? Are you in need of help?” Her eyes met his but once before she lowered her glance to the floor.
    “Oui,” he answered. Her gaze met his and then she dropped her head once more. Damn, but he needed to remember to speak in their tongue. He expected the English nobles to speak in French, but the servants and villeins would converse only in their harsh guttural language. “Yes,” he repeated, “show me to the solar.”
    She curtsied once more and took a few backward steps before turning and walking in front of him. Her hips swayed in the suggestive motion that proclaimed her an available wench as she made her way through the great hall. From the peeking glances and smiles she offered over her shoulder, he understood the invitation she gave. Smiling grimly, he shook his head at the irony of this situation. On another day, his body would have reacted by this point, stirring his interest and firing his desires. On another day, in another lifetime, he would have accepted her welcoming actions and met her later for a pleasant rendezvous. However, his current physical condition and the unknown fate that stood before him kept him from responding.
    Soon they approached a door set back in a stone alcove. From the two heavily armed guards next to the doorway, he knew the queen was within. The servant turned to him once more and curtsied. This time she blatantly met his gaze and smiled seductively, making her offer clear to even a blind man. Not willing to completely refuse the girl, he asked her name. ’Twould be better to have it if needed later than have to stumble through descriptions to locate her.
    “Lyssa, milord. Call on me if you have need,” she answered in a quiet whisper. From the snickers of the guards, she obviously had helped many of the men in the keep with their needs.
    “Return to your duties anon. I will summon you if I have need.” Christian waved her off and turned to the door. He knocked and waited for an invitation to enter. Hearing her voice through the door, he took a deep breath, turned the knob and prepared to face the queen.
    Christian was not deceived by the old woman beforehim. Although in her eighth decade of life and with an appearance that matched her age, Eleanor was not someone to underestimate. For more than half a century, she had moved through their world much in the same manner as a man and gathered power and riches, even husbands, to herself as she did. This woman had done the unthinkable and accompanied her first husband on a holy crusade. He moved toward her and stopped, kneeling before her.
    “Your Grace,” he said, taking and kissing her hand. He waited for her signal to rise and, when given, he looked into her face and smiled. “You look well.”
    “Ah, Christian. It is as though I were looking into your dear mother’s eyes. I miss her. I miss the wise counsel and the humor that saw me through many low spots in my life.”
    His mother was a safe subject since her passing was unrelated to his father’s treachery. And she had spent many years as the confidante of the queen.
    “And I know that she valued the time she served you, Your Grace.”
    Eleanor dropped her hand and sat down once more in the chair behind her. ’Twas then he noticed the other woman in the room. Assuming it was one of the queen’s attendants, he continued his conversation with Eleanor.
    “The king has called on me to serve you in some way, Your Grace. He did not