Valor Under Siege (The Honorables) by Elizabeth Boyce Read Free Book Online Page A

find a way, I suppose,” she drawled. Elsa slanted a look up at her companion. “You speak to me as if I were a man.”
    Delightfully, Norman’s ears reddened. His eyes cut to her, then bounced away. “Beg your pardon, Lady Fay. I should be more mindful.”
    She scoffed. “Please, Norman. You don’t mind if I call you Norman, do you? Wynford-Scott is quite the mouthful, and I’d like to think you and I have become friends over the last number of months.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s refreshing, is all I mean. Besides Sheri, you’re the only man who speaks frankly to me outside of bed. Social niceties grow wearisome.”
    The silence emanating from the giant man carried a quality of alarm. He cleared his throat, readjusting his hold on Apple’s lead. “Still,” he blurted at last, “I know better, and I shall do better in future, my lady. Elsa.”
    Smiling, Elsa lifted her face to the sun. The demon nipped at her heels, but she could outrun it. She was strong. And if she grew weak along the way, she knew the man at her side was strong enough to carry her through.
    • • •
    After their trek, Elsa and Norman rejoined the coach at an inn, where she guzzled water and stuffed herself silly with roasted potatoes, rolls, and plum pudding. Back in the carriage, she fell asleep almost instantly, not stirring again until they’d stopped for the night.
    The supper laid out in the private dining room held no appeal, and the sight of yet another pot of tea made her stomach turn. Maybe a glass of watered wine or a mug of small beer would be permissible, just to have with her food. Those beverages were mild enough for children. She couldn’t see any harm ...
    “The kitchen is preparing hot cider for us. Fresh, not fermented.”
    From across the table, Norman regarded her with that steady gaze.
    Were her thoughts so obvious? Guilt and Shame, those wicked twins, stirred in her belly. “There’s no need for them to trouble themselves on my—our—account.”
    He shrugged, his massive shoulders rising and falling like a gentle swell of the sea.
    It was a good mulled cider, as it happened, and she sipped slowly at her mugful. Of the food, however, she partook only a little. Soon enough, the room felt suffocating and she wanted only to get away. Norman’s efforts at conversation put her teeth on edge.
    “Anything amiss, Elsa?”
    Lips pinched, she glanced at Foster, whose attention was determinedly fixed on the pigeon on her plate. Norman shouldn’t be so familiar with her in front of Foster. It would give the maid the wrong impression. Lord knew Foster was used to Elsa bringing home the occasional paramour and always exercised utmost discretion, but this wasn’t that. She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did. It just did.
    His brows lowered. “You look a bit peakish.”
    Elsa touched her upper lip, surprised to find her fingers trembling and her skin damp with perspiration. Just like this morning, her pulse galumphed inside her chest and beat against her temples from within. Her hair hurt.
    “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Wynford-Scott.” She shot to her feet, and he quickly fumbled to stand. Foster, too, got up. “No, no,” she waved the lady’s maid back. “Finish your supper, Foster. I’m fine, I just ...”
    Nothing to say, she turned sharply, feeling their eyes boring into her back as she left the dining room, cutting off their questioning gazes by firmly shutting the door behind her.
    The stairs she had to take to reach her room were adjacent to the common room, at this time of day filled with travelers and locals enjoying a pint or glass of their favorite libations.
    Her belly was a hard knot of wanting and dread as she approached. The innkeeper stood at a wooden barrel, pulling on the tap to fill a mug. He gave Elsa a welcoming smile. She was choking for want of a drink. Just one.
    With a strangled cry, she turned and darted up the stairs, running all the way to her room.