Free Lord of the Blade by Elizabeth Rose Page A

of the room. "Now
drink your healing herbs so you can be cured further." Gilda pushed
the goblet in front of Kenric's nose.
    "I do not care for the taste," he
complained, pushing her hand away. "Besides, I would much rather
eat a hearty meal."
    Gilda turned toward Devon as if to say
something and Corbett knew he'd have no more conversation with
Kenric until later. One woman in the room was distracting. Two was
impossible.
    He held out his arm to the baroness in an
act of respect. "'Tis time for mass, my lady. Shall I escort you to
chapel before we are late?"
    Gilda obliged. "Make sure he drinks his
herbs," she commanded to Devon as she left.
    Corbett couldn't help but glance over his
shoulder at Devon before he left the room. She was glaring in his
direction with her bottom lip turned out in a feisty pout. If she
kept that up, he’d not be able to stop himself from kissing that
pout right off her face.

Chapter 7

    The meal was nearly finished when Devon
reached the corridor outside the great hall. The household greedily
consumed the roasted duck in a rich spicy sauce, salt cod, stuffed
sheep's bladder, freshly baked bread with carrageen jelly, and
Lampreys in Galytyne. When Devon had visited the kitchen earlier
that day, she had seen the cooks preparing the lampreys and was
thankful she hadn’t been involved. She despised any kind of
seafood, but this eel-like animal with its sucking mouth was more
than she could bear, as she had watched it roasting on the spit.
Stuffed with rose petals, bread crusts and verjuice, it looked at
her with bulging eyes. Goose fat mixed with powdered ginger and its
own blood baked its exterior to a crisp.
    She'd eaten too much seafood over the years
to ever want it again. What she wanted was something she'd never
had. Something a servant wasn't allowed in these hard times.
Venison. Mead was flowing freely, and the household seemed in good
spirits as they consumed the honeyed fermented drink. Everyone
chattered about the latest concerns of King Edward and the on-going
war with France for the last eleven years. Although it had subsided
for awhile with the deadly plague, all knew the battle would resume
again soon and waited with anticipation.
    Several ladies of the household had taken up
the local gossip, and a couple of the men spoke in hushed voices of
the tarts that saw to their needs in the alehouse the night before.
No one even noticed Devon standing silently in the hallway.
Everyone was enjoying themselves too much to even care she was an
idle servant not doing her job.
    She spied Corbett at the head of the dais,
staring at his trencher of food as if it weren't even there. His
raven sat patiently on the back of his chair, waiting for its turn
to eat its fill. The bird spotted her and squawked. Devon dove
behind the screen connecting the great hall and hurried off to the
kitchen.
     
    Corbett felt miserable. He'd spent most the
day in a daze, not being able to take his mind off Devon. He had a
castle to run, tenants to meet with, and the bakehouse had caught
fire again that afternoon. The manor house was in dire need of
repair and the milliner said some insects were infesting the grain
to the point of spoiling it. Even Brother Ruford had complained
that there was some discrepancy with the tally sheets on the food
and supplies they had stored for the winter.
    He had his hands full trying to be lord,
chamberlain and castellan all at once. And to make matters worse,
he'd have to act as woodward on his hunting trip, as someone had
been poaching in his forests. What he needed was a good woman to
forget all his problems and give him a night of ecstasy. Just the
thought reminded him King Edward would be sending a messenger any
day now to see if he'd yet to choose a wife. And when his answer
reached the king, all his troubles would be over. He'd be a
landless knight and probably have to hire himself out as a
mercenary, as Malcomn would be sitting at the dais in his chair
instead.
    Gilda was seated