The Savage Miss Saxon by Kasey Michaels Read Free Book Online

hips as if she were formulating a plan of attack.
    Mannering captured one of those hands in his, noticed how chilled it was, whether from cold or fear he did not know, and led her around the corner behind which Nutter and Harold had disappeared. There, abutting one entire side of the donjon, was a stone building much shorter and squarer than the tower. “This is the forebuilding,” he told her. “It is the only way you can enter the donjon, and even this way is secured by means of visitors having to climb this great staircase before really being able to say they have at last arrived safely inside.”
    The top of the steps finally reached, Mannering opened a heavy oak door and stood back to let Alexandra enter before him. She was met by yet another green-liveried old man, who bowed creakily as she approached. The servant was kept from toppling over onto his face only by clinging desperately to the large, painted lance he was employing as a cane. “Who wishes to see the Master?” the old man croaked.
    “It is I, Nicholas Mannering, Earl of Linton, who begs audience with your master,” Nicholas intoned solemnly, evoking a quick glance from Alexandra, who was astounded at his formality with this servant after his familiarity with Nutter minutes before. “Also,” the Earl went on, “I have with me this lowly female, who, if your master pleases, craves to plead her case before him, asking only that he not judge her too harshly for her sins.”
    That did it! “What in bloody blue blazes are you spouting about? I never heard such drivel. Lowly female, indeed! Judged for my sins! What sins?”
    The servant took no heed of Alexandra’s outburst but merely bowed again before plodding out of the room. Once he was gone, Nicholas let out his pent-up breath and began to laugh. “Whew!” he said once he could breathe normally. “As often as I do this I never fail to feel like the world’s greatest fool the entire time.”
    “ That I can understand,” Alexandra threw back cuttingly. “But how dare you call me a lowly female? I’m beginning to feel like stepping through that door has catapulted me backward in time a century or two.”
    “Oh, further back than that, my dear, I assure you. Look, if you think you can’t go through with this, just let me know and you can stay out here while I go in alone to talk to your grandfather. After all, if you think outbursts like the one you treated that servant to will be condoned once we’re inside the Great Hall, you have another thought or two coming. You’d be out on your ear before you knew what hit you—if the old man didn’t decide to have you flogged on the spot.”
    Before Alexandra had a chance to reply, the servant took two steps back into the room, banged the heel of his lance on the stone floor three times, and announced that an audience had been granted. This time, instead of preceding Nicholas, Alexandra hung back a few paces, hiding a bit behind his large form as they entered the Great Hall.
    At first sight the Hall seemed bare and gloomy. At second sight it seemed even more so. There were, Alexandra counted, only two deep-set windows to light the entire large room. There was no real fireplace at all, only a large hearth in the middle of the floor, the smoke coming from its fire swirling mistily about the room in its search to exit through the windows and chinks in the walls.
    The walls themselves were whitewashed, although the grime hanging on them showed this bit of housekeeping to be a frequent necessity. As to furniture, that commodity was noticeable only for its absence. Except for a few rude trestle tables, a large iron-hinged cupboard, and several long wooden backless benches, the room was devoid of the stuff.
    It was only after a few moments—once her eyes had adjusted to the dimness and the smoke—that Alexandra thought she could make out, standing atop a low platform against one wall, a pair of high-backed wooden chairs—one of them occupied by a