Free The Faithful Heart by Merry Farmer Page B

peasant!”
    “I’m no peasant, I’m Lord John of
Kedleridge!”
    Matlock laughed in his face.
    “Jack, don’t!” Madeline stood and grabbed his
arm, trying to pull him to sit.
    “Oh I see.” Matlock narrowed his eyes, his
laugh becoming a disgusted sneer as he glanced between Jack and his
daughter. “You’re an ambitious little peasant, but you’re still a
peasant.”
    “Madeline will stay where she likes.” Jack
met the man’s eyes with a fierceness that wouldn’t be
dismissed.
    “Sister Mary Peter will be returned to the
Abbey of St. Mary’s,” Matlock scoffed. “If for no other reason than
to protect her from the lusts of presumptuous filth like you.”
    Before Jack could counterattack Matlock
turned and marched through the tables of gawking nobles and out of
the room.
    “Oy!” Jack shouted after him. “I’m not done
with you!”
    “Jack!” Crispin warned him. “Enough.”
    “But mate!”
    “We lost the battle,” his friend’s voice
dropped to a bass growl. “We can’t afford to lose the war.”
    “That bloody, fucking wanker!” Jack vented
his frustration a little too loudly. The whole room was buzzing and
all eyes were on him. And Madeline.
    “I think I need to go lie down.” Madeline
folded her hands over her stomach as if she was on her way to
prayers.
    “You don’t have to listen to a word he says.”
Frustration poured off of Jack as he reached to pull her into an
embrace. “And you don’t have to go anywhere.”
    She shrugged away from him, glancing around
at their audience. “No, really Jack, I think it’s for the
best.”
    “Aw, but there’s gonna be dancing ‘n all.” He
struggled to contain the swell of panic that pushed through him as
the anger left. He’d made a serious mistake.
    Madeline glanced down, her freckled face
flushing. “I don’t know how to dance, Jack.”
    “Aw, don’t be upset, mate.” He pushed his
chair away, bumping into Lydia’s without noticing. “Let me walk you
back to your room at least?” He didn’t know what else he could do.
She nodded, trying to bring herself to smile, but couldn’t. “Right
then,” he forced cheer and certainty into his voice. He held out
his arm for her and she slipped her tiny hand into it. “You just
show me where to go and I’ll take you there. You don’t even have to
say nothing if you don’t want.”
    A hint of a smile spread across her face at
last, but she kept her eyes on the floor as he put his free hand
over hers and escorted her around the tables of nosy nobs and out
of the room.
    Tension drained from his shoulders as soon as
they left the noise and heat of the Great Hall behind them. He
still didn’t know what to say. Crispin was right, they’d lost the
battle. But he still had Madeline right there, holding his arm. He
supported her as they walked, but she led, slipping through the
halls and to the stairway leading up to the High Tower. Jack’s itch
to say something grew with each step as they mounted until he
couldn’t keep words from spilling out.
    “Any chance he’ll come around?” She shook her
head. “Aw, that’s too bad then. His loss.” He glanced sideways to
her when she didn’t reply. “Still, it’s not like you’re all alone
in the world or nothin’.”
    She sucked in a breath and he was certain she
would cry until she whispered, “Thanks, Jack.”
    “That’s what I’m here for.” He grinned,
wanting nothing more than to lift her spirits. “Oy! I think I
outrank him now, what with being a lord and bailiff and all.” He
laughed at his own realization. “Imagine that.”
    A tiny grin graced her beautiful face and she
glanced up to him. “Hereditary title outweighs granted titles,
Jack. And our family goes back to before the Conqueror. He still
outranks you.”
    “Never!” he exclaimed in mock alarm.
    She laughed in spite of herself. His grin
widened and he snuggled closer to her as they continued up the
stairs in silence.
    “Where are we going anyhow?”