The Unveiling by Tamara Leigh Read Free Book Online Page B

grandfather had done. Still, truth be known, he had never come nearer a woman than through the ease of his loins, and only with harlots.
    At the age of four, Drogo had taken him from Stern Castle to begin his training at Wulfen. It had been the same for the two brothers that followed, never knowing much of their mother or sisters beyond the once, sometimes twice-a-year visits. Women were a bad influence, Drogo had told. They weakened a man’s heart when it needed to be strong. Thus, as it had been for the generations before Garr—men who knew women only for the lusting and getting of heirs—so it would be for the generations to follow.
    Garr looked one last time at Jame Braose. Whatever it was about the young man, he would discover it. Silently cursing that he was late to prayer, he swung away.
    When the irony of his blaspheming struck, he raised his eyes. “Forgive me, Lord.” Such was the difficulty of even putting one’s thoughts to women. Always they turned a man from his purpose.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    Hot and sticky from her bindings out, gait unbalanced by the pel beneath her arm, Annyn stepped into the great hall.
    She paused at the sight that did not greet her: slopping tankards, overturned benches, filth-strewn rushes, facedown drunkards, dogs warring over bones. There were none of these things that ought to abound in a place absent of women.
    Squires and pages moved quietly among the tables as they served peers and superiors. As for the manners of those who partook of the meal, spoons did not drip above trenchers and food did not color the beards of those whose faces were of an age to bear whiskers. Voices were tempered, and, unlike Annyn, all those within wore freshly laundered tunics and hose and their heads were bare of caps.
    It was hard to believe these were the same ones who had labored on the training field. Hard to believe this was of Wulfrith’s doing. But they were and it was. Unless she had sweated herself into a hallucination, Wulfrith’s hall was refined, though Uncle had always said—
    She pushed past the pang of loss. He had said that, without women, men were an uncivilized lot destined to run with the beasts. But the same could not be said of those in Wulfrith’s hall.
    A prick in her side, she pinched the bindings through her tunic before remembering Rowan’s warning. Lowering her arm, she settled her gaze on Wulfrith who filled the lord’s chair—a squire over his shoulder, a knight seated to his left, a priest seated to his right.
    A priest at Wulfen? Certain as she had been that Wulfen was the devil’s lair, she had not considered it would boast a man of God. But then, it was at Wulfen that Jonas had found his faith. From this man?
    The splintered pel nicking her through her tunic, she regretted her impetuous decision to deliver its remains to Wulfrith. She would be on show for all, not just the one she had expected to find amid disarray.
    She glanced over her shoulder at the squire who stood as porter before the doors. His face had reflected surprise when he saw her burden. Now his eyes danced.
    “Squire Jame,” the dread voice put an end to retreat, “what do you bring into my hall?”
    Why could Wulfrith not have been blind a few moments longer?
    She pulled the cap from her head and shoved it beneath her belt. Though she felt watched by all, it was Wulfrith’s gaze that drew hers. Standing taller, thighs and calves aching as much from her feud with the pel as her traversing of the hall, she ascended the dais.
    A movement over Wulfrith’s shoulder drew her attention to the squire at his back. The young man’s presence signified he held the coveted position of First Squire, the same as Jonas before his murder.
    The pain of his passing never far, she looked to Wulfrith. “My lord, the pel has been taken to ground.” She stepped forward and unloaded her burden. It rolledover the tablecloth and settled against a platter of viands.
    Displeasure darkening