Free Blaze Wyndham by Bertrice Small Page B

Wyndham intruded.
    Blaze shot him an unfriendly look. “I must bid my parents farewell, sir. You will wait upon me, like it or no.” She turned to her mother. The two hugged, and in that instant Blaze knew how very much she loved her mother.
    “Now, try to remember all I have taught you, my child,” Lady Rosemary began.
    “Indeed she will! Indeed she will,” said Lord Morgan, understanding Anthony’s impatience. Grasping his eldest child by the shoulders, he turned her about. Giving her a loud kiss upon the cheek, he then gently pushed her out the door of the hall to where the horses were waiting. Before she realized what was happening, Blaze found herself being boosted into her saddle.
    “But, Papa!” she protested.
    “You are a married woman now, Blaze. We love you. We bid you Godspeed, but if you linger much longer your mother and sisters will begin weeping and wailing. Besides, we must get back to the fields, for Master Garth says it will rain within another day or two. You know it is impossible to harvest and store wet grain. Go home to your husband, daughter.”
    She understood her father better than even he realized. A soft smile touched Blaze’s lips. “Farewell, Papa,” she said quietly. “I love you.” Then, kicking her horse, she moved off away from her family, away from Ashby, away from everything she had ever known; toward a new identity and a new life.

Part Two
    RIVERSEDGE
    Autumn 1521-January 1525

Chapter 3

    I n her entire life Blaze had never ridden more than a few miles from Ashby Hall. Within an hour the landmarks well known to her disappeared, and the countryside became unfamiliar. Her childhood home was located within clear sight of the Malvern Hills on the east side of the River Wye. They traveled northwest, for RiversEdge was set upon the west bank of the Wye with a view of the Black Mountains. The land was overripe and lush in the September sunshine; the green pastures with their grazing cattle and sheep giving way to greener fields of ripening hops and golden fields of ripening grain. The road wound through ancient orchards of apples ready for the harvest, whose fragrance perfumed the air to the point of excess.
    It was a peaceful land. There was little serious need for the escort of armed men who accompanied them other than the fact that they did the bride honor. Blaze had been given a lovely white mare to ride. Master Anthony rode beside her upon a dappled gray stallion with Heartha behind them upon a fat brown pony. Their pace was easy, but not leisurely, for they had some seventeen miles to go using the roads between Ashby and RiversEdge. They would ford the Wye some four miles below their destination.
    The sun was at its zenith when to Blaze’s relief Anthony Wyndham called a halt to their journey. She was starving, as the marriage ceremony had been in the early morning. She had not eaten before the Mass. After her health had been drunk in the Great Hall she had been dressed and hustled off. No one had thought to offer her some food before her departure on a day’s ride to her new home.
    Easing himself gracefully from his saddle, Anthony walked over to Blaze’s mount. Lifting her down, he felt her stiffen as his fingers tightened about her narrow waist.
    She moved away from him as quickly as possible, saying as she did, “I am ravenous, sir. I hope this halt is so we may eat. I am certain the Ashby cook has not let you get away without providing food for our journey.”
    “The halt is mainly for the benefit of the horses and so that the men may relieve themselves, madam,” he said wickedly, enjoying the deep blush that reddened her cheeks.
    “Ohh, you are insufferable!” she cried.
    “Perhaps you would like to relieve yourself,” he said, continuing his gibing. “We will not stop again until we reach RiversEdge.”
    “Cease your teasing, Master Anthony!” said Heartha, who had managed to dismount her pony by herself. “Ohh, he’s got a wicked reputation for such