Free The Winter Promise by Jenny Jacobs

a reprieve from the most unappealing of his duties.
    “That would be fine,” she said, and tried to match his smile.
    The marshy land around Athelney was no place for a good gallop, but that was just as well because Imma’s thoughts were not concentrated on riding. Her palfrey picked its way slowly and carefully over the track, but at least Imma was out of the keep and alone with her thoughts.
    The boy whistled as they rode. So, she was not exactly alone with her thoughts. But he did not intrude and kept his own thoughts to himself and required no conversation of her. Under the circumstances, she was content with that.
    The autumn chill had turned to winter cold, she realized as they rode, turning back a little earlier than she had planned because of the bitter weather. Despite his willingness to abandon his chores on her behalf, Jacob seemed just as happy to return to the warmth of the stable, too. She dismounted and brought the palfrey into the building, leading her into her accustomed stall. She unsaddled the horse and gave the boy the tack to clean. Finally, she brushed the mare down. As a guest — and not an invited one — she did not like to take advantage of the horse-thane, and she never minded doing her own chores. Her uncle had taught her everything about horses, quite as if he had expected her to take up standard and shield and accompany him into battle. It was only when he had noticed she was a woman grown that he sent her to England to marry a cold English and fight his war that way.
    The mindless occupation of caring for the horse soothed her and she felt more herself — until she put away the brush, backed out of the stall and saw with a shock that Lord Robert stood in a stall further up the aisle, examining a big black stallion that stamped its hooves restlessly.
    She caught herself on the rail. She would have to pass by him on her way out of the stable. His back was to her and she only caught a glimpse of his face in profile. His jaw was set, his face its usual iron mask.
    She remembered the hunt, and the glorious ride when the two of them knew exactly what they must do, and had not needed to speak of it. He had looked at her in a way that made her flush with warmth every time she thought of it.
    And yet that selfsame night, his gray gaze had been as cold as ever at table —
    “Nothing can be done?” he was asking the horse-thane.
    The horse-thane shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder. He nodded at Imma and turned to attend to his duties elsewhere in the stable.
    Lord Robert glanced over and saw her standing in the aisle. He nodded in acknowledgment as the horse-thane had, but his face was remote and expressionless, as if he had never looked at her with heat and admiration —
    She lifted her chin. Well, that was good, that was as it should be. She was his enemy, and it would be better to remember that.
    Already he had turned his attention from her. He stood staring into the stall that housed the black stallion, blocking her way down the aisle.
    “My lord,” she began. Will you let me pass? she intended to say, but her request died on her lips when she saw the anguish on his face.
    “My lord,” she said again. When he turned to her, the mask was in place.
    “My lady,” he said, his voice calm and impersonal. She realized it was not coldness, nor lack of emotion that ruled him, but rather ruthless control over all of his feelings. She wondered the price he had paid for that control. She knew the price she had paid for hers. Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he ease his guard for one moment in her presence, and she in his? They could keep the masks for other people, but why couldn’t they be honest with each other?
    They were enemies, that was why, never able to trust each other —
    “My lord, is the animal injured?”
    “He has come up lame,” he said, as if the matter were of little interest to him. But she knew better, now.
    “He is