Free Midnight's Bride by Sophia Johnson Page B

they not the second and third teeth? I am not sure. Perchance you should do them all to avoid a mistake?”
    â€œOh, nay. I forgot the walnut stain this morn. Burnt wood tastes horrid, you know. Mayhap no one will remember which teeth, as long as two are black.”
    Feeling Mereck’s impatient stare, Netta looked down at the bowls of porridge. Had she started to prepare them? She nibbled her lower lip and put a healthy pinch of salt on Mereck’s cooked oats then added honey to the other three. There. She had done all that Angus had said. She grabbed Mereck’s bowl and a cup of ale and hurried over to him. It took her two more trips for Marcus and herself. Elise brought her own.
    The men waited politely until Netta served everyone. She seated herself and watched Mereck scoop up a spoonful of porridge and put it in his mouth. Eyes opening wide, he gulped it down then grabbed his cup of ale and downed every drop. Was the man over fond of ale? She hoped not. Men who became bleary-eyed and slurred their words were oafs of the worst sort.
    Of a sudden, he stopped eating and looked at her. She was puzzled and a little uneasy. Did he not like the porridge? If not, it was his own fault. If he would put honey on it, the oats would be much tastier. Should she suggest it on the morrow?
    Though the taste of ash ruined the first mouthful of her own food, she soon finished eating, grateful when Angus came to collect the bowls. She and Elise hurried to the stream to refresh themselves before they mounted.
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    Netta felt freer than ever before in her life riding through the forest that morn. Her father had never allowed her to visit any farther away than Ridley Castle. She took a deep breath of fresh air perfumed with pine and smiled up at the heavens. No misty rain fell today. The air was cold and refreshing. Not long after the sun reached its peak, the wind picked up.
    Her gaze strayed from the path to follow a man into the woods. She gasped and covered her mouth, stifling an embarrassed giggle.
    â€œNo wonder Father forbade me to help with bathing guests,” she whispered.
    Curious, Elise’s gaze followed Netta’s stare. The man came out of the woods and took his place back in line. She looked back at Netta. “Huh? Why?”
    â€œMy old nurse told me men have all manners of strange body parts,” Netta whispered. “She warned I would lose my wits if I looked at them.” Her head bobbed, agreeing with the memory. Curiosity soon got the better of her, and she blurted out what she wanted to know.
    â€œDid you e’er chance upon Sir Galan, or one of his friends unclothed?”
    Elise’s eyes widened. Netta could tell by the abashed expressions flitting across her friend’s face that the young men had indeed exposed her to more of an education than Netta’s own. Netta pressed for an answer to her curiosity.
    â€œDo men have a tail-like member in front?”
    â€œA tail? Why would you think it a tail?” Elise asked.
    â€œThe last man who went into the woods did not go deep enough. When we came around the bend, I saw him studying a tree. He had his tartan up around his waist.” She broke off, embarrassed.
    â€œOh. They have what you saw and two hanging things like small turnips covered in thin wool. They go together.” Elise’s eyes lit. She pointed at the stallion ahead of them. “See? Like that horse.”
    â€œBut, uh, the man’s dangled.” Netta’s voice faded. Her face felt aflame.
    Strangled snorts from the squires alerted her they had overheard her query. Unwilling to let them know her appalling ignorance, she improvised on a conversation she had overheard one day at Wycliffe.
    â€œThat part of him was small and pitiful. I chanced upon my stepsisters discussing this woeful lack. They declared the most powerful knights have the longest members.”
    â€œWhy would a great warrior have a bigger member? Or are they great