Free After the Storm by Susan Sizemore

good graces I Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm
    seek to enter."
    Yeah, right. The kid might be contrite, but he had a convenient memory. "Why have you been rude, anyway?"
    "Because of my father."
    She had expected him to blame the exiled priest. "Sir Stephan?"
    "When Father John was sent from court to be our chaplain Father didn't trust him. So he asked me to gain the man's confidence. So I did. I did what Father John told me, and acted the way he said I should." He looked around furtively, then added, "I came to enjoy the role I was playing."
    "Oh?"
    "Until today, that is," he hurried to add. "When I nearly struck you I realized that I'd gone too far, that
    I'd become the man I was playing. I am so sorry," he said one more time, and went down on his knees in front of her. "Lady Isabeau, forgive me."
    Libby looked around in embarrassment. "Gladly. Get up." People were watching, Matilda among them.
    He stayed firmly planted on the ground before her. "I will make it up to you, I swear."
    "Fine. Let's go look at the—"
    "Marry me."
    "No way." Her mother had not taught her how to say those words in medieval French, so when she spoke in English all Henry did was look at her and blink.
    "Was that 'yes' in Welsh, my lady?"
    The sardonic question had come from Sir Reynard, who stood nearby with Marj and Matilda. Matilda, of course, was crying. Libby didn't blame her a bit.
    Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm
    Nobody deserved this kind of public repudiation.
    She turned back to Henry and swatted him on the ear. "For shame!" she shouted at her underaged suitor. "How dare you speak so to me?"
    "Lady, I love you. I would make you ha—"
    "Silence! What of my honor? What of your betrothal? What of all I owe your parents? You offend them as well as me with such improper suggestions." This situation had to be resolved quickly, and there was only one way to do it. She backed quickly away from where Henry knelt, his mouth open in shock. "I will not stay under the same roof with a man who has no right to speak so to me."
    She looked at Marj. "Fetch Edward and Joseph. We're leaving for Lilydrake."
    Marj gave a relieved sigh. "Yes, my lady."
    "Right now," she added as the historian hurried away.

    Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm
    Chapter 5

    " There's dried blood on your chest, lad. Are you hurt?" Cynric asked.
    Blood? Bastien touched the spot where his bare skin was stiff with the small dry patch of the stuff. Her blood. He hadn't meant to hurt the girl. He had never intended to do her any real harm.
    "Damn the priest."
    "Damn all priests, I say," Cynric answered. "But what about the blood?"
    There wasn't much, but the sight of it was a caustic reminder. It almost burned the flesh where it clung. "It isn't mine."
    He didn't explain further. Cynric seemed fond of the noblewoman, and the last thing he wanted right now was the sharp side of the old man's tongue. He didn't want to talk about Isabeau, but he couldn't help but think of her. He remembered her kissing him, the heat of her mouth, the soft curves of her body molded to his, and how his treacherous body had responded even in the midst of danger. It had been a long time since he'd been kissed. She'd set him on fire, then pushed him away.
    He'd left Passfair dazed and still wasn't sure if it was from the fall or from Lady Isabeau's bold kiss. Had she meant to kill him or aid his escape when she toppled him off the wall? Not that he need think of it any more now that he was well away from the poisonous influence of her kind.
    Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm
    "Well, lad, are you hurt or no?" Cynric demanded.
    "No. No more than usual." He would have shaken his head, but lights were beginning to flare behind his eyes and movement would only bring on the pain sooner.
    Cynric's hand landed on his shoulder. "The headache again, lad?" he asked in a whisper.
    "Not yet." The pain didn't come as often as it used to. He'd learned to anticipate just how much he could do before excitement and action