Free A Daring Sacrifice by Jody Hedlund Page B

stiff chair my father had sat in every day of his life as he counted his gold and poured over the numbers William recorded. “Yes. You know, extra food, clothing, whatever they need.”
    William opened and then closed his mouth, and then opened it again. The eyeglasses on the end of his nose made his eyes look especially big. They were kind eyes, but also astute.
    â€œOur tenants don’t need anything, Collin.” Irene peered at me over the tapestry in her hand, her needle poised to execute the next stitch. “They’re content and happy. If we send them gifts, they’ll only grow to expect more than they need.”
    I grinned. “So you think we’ll spoil them?”
    She didn’t return my smile. “I think we treat the people on our land more kindly than most. And our kindness is gift enough.”
    I was tempted to shrug off the entire discussion. My idea had only been a whim. I didn’t know why I’d even suggested it, except that I only had to think again of Juliana and her reaction to the feast for guilt to rear itself again.
    I took a swig of my ale, wishing it were as easy to swallow the discomfort that arose whenever I thought about Juliana’s dangerous situation. “What do you think, William? Should we give the peasants additional food? Ale? Perhaps for Michaelmas?” The feast of Saint Michael was only a week away, and would commence as the bulk of the harvesting was completed.
    William took a step backward but bumped into a stool. “Such giving has never been done, my lord,” he said, throwing out his arms to steady himself, but in the process one of his arms knocked against a stack of books on the shelf behind him, sending the volumes toppling to the floor.
    I couldn’t hold in a chuckle. William’s clumsiness had always irritated my father, but the servant had been so meticulous with the ledgers and so wise with his financial counsel that Father had overlooked the man’s faults.
    â€œIt’s never been done, my lord,” William repeated. “But with the growing tensions lately, a gift may help head off potential problems. It may indeed.”
    â€œGrowing tensions?”
    â€œIt’s nothing.” Irene squinted at her needle as she re-threaded it. “Simply a stirring of discontent, likely produced by the Cloaked Bandit.”
    Cloaked Bandit. This time I stifled my laughter. If Irene knew she was afraid of a girl several years younger than her, she’d burn with mortification. “We have the means to give them gifts, do we not?” I directed my question to William.
    â€œPlenty, my lord. As the numbers will attest.” William leaned over the desk to point to a figure on the paper, but he knocked into several empty ink bottles.
    â€œThen I appoint you to be in charge of arranging gifts, William.” I folded the ledger closed, the matter settled. “Send them food, clothes, and the like. Whatever you think might be helpful.”
    Irene lowered her embroidery to her lap. “ ’Twould appear that no matter my counsel, you’re determined to squander our father’s fortune.”
    I stretched, past ready to move on to something more entertaining. “At least there’s plenty to squander.”
    â€œI don’t see anything humorous about the situation, Collin.”
    I’d noticed she wasn’t calling me by my proper title. At first, her use of my given name had been something of a comfort, reminding me of the familial bonds I’d missed all the years I’d been gone. But for some reason, lately I’d sensed a note of condescension. Or maybe it had been there all along and I’d just been too happy to see her to notice.
    My smile faded, and I sat forward. “I don’t see any reason why you should care, Irene.” I stressed her name. “You’ll be married soon enough, and I’ll make sure to send you to your new home with a handsome