Free The Winter Promise by Jenny Jacobs Page B

realize she is unlikely to murder you in your sleep?”
    He tore off a bite of meat from the joint. The way she said these things.
    Was there any error in admitting he had spoken to Imma? Imma was a fast friend to his aunt, however unlikely it seemed, so she might have spoken of him and he must admit to it or he would arouse Elizabeth’s suspicions, a situation not to be tolerated.
    “I spoke with her,” he said grudgingly. And she had promised him a boon, and that made him feel more kindly toward her. But he had no intention of saying so to Elizabeth.
    “Well,” Elizabeth said, “At least you no longer look as though you’d like to strangle her. That glare of yours — ”
    “I do not glare.”
    Elizabeth rolled her eyes and selected another piece of cheese from the tray. “Your father always said that, too. Your father glared.”
    “Father was nearly blind. He was not glaring, he was trying to see.”
    “Perhaps that is your problem. Have the physician examine you.”
    “I have no problem.” Why did he allow his aunt to reduce him to the quarrelsome tactics of a small boy? He took a deep breath and reminded himself that while he must not allow Elizabeth to pry, he must not seem to be stopping her. If she thought he guarded a secret, she would annoy his thanes and rattle his servants until one among them revealed it. His heart seized for a moment. Had any of them guessed it? Surely not. Except —
    Elizabeth had already noted that his manner toward Imma had changed. Perhaps he should go back to glaring at her so that no one would guess —
    Elizabeth made an impatient sound as she peered at a bowl of roasted chestnuts, poking them with her bony forefinger. “I wish you could just see what a kind and gentle lady Imma is.”
    “I assure you I bear her no ill will. In fact, I am utterly indifferent to her.” There. That sounded well. Perhaps it would be sufficient to keep Elizabeth at bay. If anything could keep Elizabeth at bay.
    She sighed again and abandoned the chestnuts, taking another chunk of cheese instead. “Edward is arranging a marriage for her.”
    His gut clenched. He did not wish to hear about Imma with other men or about marriage, or even anything to do with the future at all. The present was troublesome enough.
    “I told you I am indifferent,” he said forcefully. “How her future is arranged matters not one whit to me.”
    “I was merely going to say — ”
    “Elizabeth — ”
    “ She never interrupts me,” Elizabeth said. “She listens and thanks me for my advice.”
    “Yes, but does she take it?” Robert muttered, snagging a slice of cheese before Elizabeth could consume the contents of the entire tray.
    “I worry about you.”
    Robert sighed. Elizabeth full of care and concern for him was worse than Elizabeth at odds with him.
    “You have no cause for worry, my lady.”
    “Oh, Robert,” she said. “When will you care about anyone other than your dogs and your falcon?”
    “My dogs and my falcon have never betrayed me,” he snapped, and that, finally, was enough to make her quiet.

Chapter Seven
    The snow fell in thick sheets, blanketing the marshes, drifting in high piles in the foreyard. It fell so heavily a man could not see that which was right in front of him. The snow had not stopped in three days and the household whispered about the winter already being worse than any in memory. Unable to leave the keep, Robert felt restless and unpeaceful. It took effort for him not to be snappish with his retainers.
    “You insisted on coming to Athelney,” Elizabeth reminded him at the midday meal.
    “It snows in Glastonbury,” he pointed out.
    “Yes, but at least it is Glastonbury .”
    He did not respond. Elizabeth must always have the last word, so let her have it. He lifted his cup of mead and watched Imma finish her meal at her place below the central fire.
    If she would talk with him, the way she had the day Jacob had given her the kitten, he was sure his restless