The Prize by Julie Garwood Read Free Book Online Page B

refuse to confess that he'd also been fooled? "Your soldiers are also little boys," she said. " 'Tis yet another reason you'll be defeated, Baron."
    "Most of my soldiers are older than you."
    "Then they're ignorant."
    "Untrained, not ignorant," he corrected. "The skilled soldiers were needed for more important work."
    He was being honest with her, but the look on her face indicated she was insulted by the truth. She turned her back on him in an attempt to dismiss him.
    He wasn't ready to be dismissed. "I would warn you, Nicholaa, that being clever isn't going to aid your cause. The journey to London will be difficult at best, and the time we're forced to spend together will be tolerable for you only if you behave."
    She refused to turn around. There was fire in her voice when she spoke again. "My God, you are an arrogant man. I've been given sanctuary here and even unholy Normans cannot break that law. I won't leave."
    "You will."
    She let out a gasp and turned to confront him. "You would violate the right of sanctuary?"
    "No, but you will walk outside these walls when the time comes."
    A shiver of fear rushed down Nicholaa's spine. What weapon could he use against her? Her mind jumped from one possibility to another, and after a long minute she concluded that he was bluffing. There wasn't a thing he could do to force her to leave her safe haven.
    The rush of relief made her eyes fill with tears.
    He smiled.
    Her composure vanished. She completely forgot she was standing in a sickroom. She certainly wouldn't have shouted at the barbarian otherwise.
    "As long as Normans are in England, I'll never leave here. Never!"
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    Chapter Three
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    Never arrived exactly eight weeks later.
    Baron Hugh had fully recovered from his illness and had left the abbey the day before. The abbess told Nicholaa she'd overheard Baron Royce ask his friend to stay at the holding until he'd taken the prize to London.
    "I believe, Nicholaa, the prize he referred to is you," the abbess remarked in a sympathetic voice.
    "He's bluffing," Nicholaa muttered.
    She repeated those two words to herself over and over again during that long day. She didn't sleep at all that night, either. Royce had sent a messenger back to the abbey just before nightfall with the order that Lady Nicholaa was to gather her possessions and be ready to leave the abbey the following morning.
    The abbess didn't believe the Norman was the type of man who would bluff, but she kept that thought to herself. She packed Nicholaa's small traveling bag and carried it down to the front entrance as a precaution against the very remote possibility that the baron did in fact have a plan of action in mind.
    "Perhaps, if you're prepared, nothing will happen," the abbess declared.
    Nicholaa was dressed and pacing in earnest by the crack of dawn. She wore her favorite cream-colored chainse and royal blue bliaut for the simple reason that her mother had helped her stitch the garments and the clothing always made her mood lighten. The material was too thin for the harsh winter weather, but she wasn't going outside so that didn't matter.
    She declined the invitation to join the sisters for morning prayers, knowing full well she'd do more squirming than praying and would certainly distract the others.
    Her trusted servant, Alice, came to give her weekly report a scant hour later. The elderly woman was sweet-tempered, extremely loyal to her mistress, and had a strong memory for details. She was fifteen years older than Nicholaa, yet clung to the youthful habit of giggling whenever she was nervous.
    Alice was giggling when she rushed into the vestibule where Nicholaa waited for her. "It's just as we suspected, milady," Alice blurted out. She managed a quick curtsy, then continued. "Baron Hugh has settled in for a nice long stay at the castle, and Baron Royce is preparing to come and fetch you."
    Nicholaa took