Free Word and Deed by Rachel Rossano Page A

on my hand, womb, and inheritance. Apparently, the last was
the crucial attribute to my new lord and master.
    Lord Silvaticus purchased me without
bothering to lay eyes on me. He witnessed instead the perfection of
my land and coveted the strategic value of the cliffs on the
southern coast. He wished to build a fortress. Hardly a flattering
decision.
    I dreamed like any other maid of a mate who
loved me in word and deed. The hope poisoned by my brother’s greed
died with the betrothal announcement. I was now the property of
Lord Silvanticus, a man with a heart of ice. All he had to do was
come claim me.
    “Your brother decreed you are to speak with
none but me until your husband comes to claim you. I am only to
attend you three hours each day.” Ealdine fussed with my bandage.
My head still throbbed, further reminder to keep my temper before
Verdon.
    “Did he ban the garden?”
    “Nay, you are allowed exercise within the
walls, but the gate has been barred from without.”
    “He wishes me to crave human contact.”
    Verdon also knew the chinks in my armor.
After the previous confinement, I sought contact, conversation, and
interaction with others.
    “If he wished that, he would have denied you
me also.” Ealdine stroked my forehead, hands soft with age. “Now
sleep. You need rest.”
    My skull pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat.
I closed my eyes and attempted to sleep. I would write my apology
in the morn.
     
    -----
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    Three days later, I rose from bed. The
afternoon sun shone beyond the lattice, beckoning me. The sight
nurtured an already restless spirit into mobility. I was intent on
a turn in the garden, at least a semblance of freedom for my
tortured soul. My body still ached and sudden changes threw my
balance, but I fixed my purpose and pressed forward.
    Ealdine, having used two of the three
allotted hours on breaking fast and serving the midday meal, would
not return until after nightfall. That gave me time to creep down
the stairs to sit in the sun at least.
    Walking across the warped floor boards proved
an uneventful task. However, upon opening the door to the sight of
the steep descent to the ground two levels below, my grasp of
balance wavered. I dropped to sit on the doorsill and lowered my
head into my hands.
    “Might I assist you?”
    I lifted my head and instantly regretted
it.
    “Steady, miss, steady. Don’t go toppling on
me. I don’t wish another death on my account.”
    I blinked in the sunlight, struggling to
place the source of the voice. Finally, a movement brought my focus
to where the stairs spilled into the garden. He stood, left boot on
the first step. Gaining only an impression of graying brown hair
and sun-browned hands, I lowered my head once again.
    “Who are you?” I asked.
    “Bryn Wolfe of Ardenstain. And you?”
    “I am Verity Favian.”
    “Ah, you are the maid in the tower. I was
warned about you.” He stepped off the bottom of the stairs and
leaned against the tower wall, his face still in shadow.
    “What warning?”
    “’The maid yonder has a shrewish
tongue.’”
    “Hardly a warning since I am already
betrothed. If you no wish to listen, you can leave.”
    “Ah, so I heard. It is to the Silvaticus, the
crazed.”
    Straightening my shoulders, I glared down at
him for a moment. “I will not allow you to speak thus of my
betrothed.”
    Surprise brought back his head. He lifted his
face to the sun to peer at me. The light revealed tan skin and a
cloth patch strapped to his face where his left eye should have
been. It was a countenance one would remember. I knew almost every
man in my brother’s service. This scarred man was a stranger.
    “You know your husband-to-be then?”
    “Nay.”
    “Then why prevent me from speech when I speak
truth born of knowledge?”
    “It is not fitting to speak thus of others.”
I peered at him from my perch. “You are not of my brother’s
men.”
    “Nay, I arrived with the men sent ahead to
prepare the way