Free Betrothed by Lori Snow Page B

against silk. She looked up to see Syllba glide into the room and quietly
close the door.
    “Syllba.”
Isabeau greeted her sister-in-law guardedly. Even after sharing the same home
for months, they had rarely been alone with each other. What was she to say to
the woman?  “I thought you had returned to your chambers. The evening meal
must have been taxing on your strength. I would have come to you before
leaving. I wish to thank you for allowing me to remain in Olivet since my
father’s death.”
    Syllba’s
cheeks blazed red against a pale complexion. With such vivid color, the woman had
no need of the cosmetics she had worn to the great hall. She sashayed towards
the nearest bookcase and ran a long nail along a leather spine. Isabeau hoped
she hid the wince against the fear that Syllba’s nail would slice the binding.
 
    “You
do love your books, don’t you, Little Izzy?” Syllba crooned. “I thought I would
find you here when Bennington declared to all and sundry that he was taking you
to wife and you were free to take any tokens you wished. ‘She’ll go right for
the books,’ I thought. And see, I was right. You are so predictable.”
    Isabeau
felt prickles along her arms and a chill dance along her spine. “I had no idea
you knew me so well. We have had so little time to visit since you arrived.”
    “Oh,
I know you.” She sidled closer. “I know everything. I know how you chatted up
Bennington’s little messenger boy. Is that how you discovered when the earl was
arriving so you could go out and meet him?”
    Isabeau
gasped. Even though Syllba had misinterpreted events, the amount she seemed to
know disconcerted her. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Did
you bed him?”

C hapter 9
     
    Air
whooshed from Isabeau as she grappled with the insulting question.
    “Syllba!”
she exclaimed in indignation.
    “No? 
Did you just go to him with all of your pitiful little tales of woe?” Syllba
moved menacingly closer. “Why did he return to the manor today?  He was to
be gone for hours on his tour with Porter.”
    Isabeau
shook her head. “I told him nothing. I’ve no notion of why he returned, nor why
he left so soon after.”
    Syllba
stared at her through narrowed cold blue eyes. “Don’t you?” She tilted her head
in consideration. “Mayhap not. You might be book smart, even know how to tally
a column of numbers, but about some things—you are a decidedly stupid woman.”
    “I
have given you no cause to be insulting.” The unexpected verbal attack flamed
Isabeau’s slowing rising anger. She had endured quite enough. “I have kept the
house of Olivet running in good order. I have done all that was ordered of me
and more. I am neither stupid nor do I carry tales. I have never understood
your contempt of me. I have never tried to usurp your place but only to see to
your comfort.”
    Syllba
only stared before tossing her head back in surprise. “Oh, but how amazing the
transformation. Without even the betrothal vows exchanged. already the meek little kitten has changed into a wild cat with claws, no less. What a
grand lady you will be when you are a countess. You will preen and prance and
scratch with the best bitches of the high court. How long before you will be
spreading your legs for more comely men than the scarred beast who will be
coming to your bed on your wedding night?”
    Isabeau
sucked in her breath in disgust. “I would never…”
    “Oh,
you will.” Syllba’s smirk held an avaricious quality that sickened Isabeau.
“You will need the respite from the ugly visage grunting over you in the dark
of night. Marta shared all of her laments and the toils she was forced to
endure as countess to Donovan d’Allyonshire. Had we known what the future was
to bring, we would have invited you to share our—tête-à-têtes. You would have
found that most edifying—and we, well, we may have found it most enjoyable.”
Syllba’s laugh cut through the air like jagged glass.