Free Master of Desire by Kinley MacGregor Page A

watched the men struggle up the stairs with her new headboard.
    â€œWhat is going on?” she asked Denys when he returned to her side.
    He smoothed his sleeve meticulously, then met her gaze. “Lord Draven woke me an hour before sunrise and bade me start preparations for your stay. He said the donjon was to look as if the king himself were staying with us.”
    Denys ran his finger down the list of items he’d written in his book. “I was told to find a housekeeper, a better cook, a baker, another brewer. There were shrubs and flowers to be ordered and a gardener. More cattle and hens,” he said, frowning as he looked up from his list. “I was told to get a lot of hens.”
    â€œHens?” she asked, confused as well.
    â€œAye, red ones, His Lordship said. Nothing but red hens for the lady.”
    Emily laughed at the very thought.
    Denys looked back at his notes. “The housekeeper is named Beatrix and said that she could be here this afternoon. She’s a widow woman who seemed very nice. If you have any problems with her, let me know and I shall deal with her forthwith. Now, what other items do you require?” Again he positioned his quill for her orders.
    Emily sat perplexed. When she had spoken to Lord Draven the night before she had assumed she would be the one to put things in order. The best she had hoped for was a housekeeper and maybe a village girl or two to help with the cleaning. Never had she expected an army of helpers to descend on the keep, let alone all the other items Lord Draven had ordered.
    â€œI can think of nothing,” she said. She looked to her maid whose face mirrored her own amazement. “Alys?”
    â€œNay, milady. ’Twould seem His Lordship thought of everything.”
    Satisfied, Denys returned his vial of ink to his satchel and closed his book. “Very good, then. You and your maid may relax and know that I have everything in hand. Should you think of anything you need, please let me know.”
    â€œThank you,” she said, overwhelmed by Draven’s generosity.
    Denys had started away from her table when a thought struck her.
    â€œWait, Denys?”
    He literally hopped back to her side.
    Thinking what a peculiar man he was, Emily gestured toward where the lord’s table should be set. “Did His Lordship perchance order a table and a dais?”
    She could swear the steward’s face lost some of its color. “Nay, milady, he did not.”
    â€œThen perhaps you should add that.”
    He hesitated. “I don’t think that would be wise, milady.”
    â€œWhyever not?”
    â€œDraven has little use for the pompousness of the aristocracy,” she heard Simon say.
    Emily looked over her shoulder to see him standing behind her with his hands behind his back.
    How long had he been there?
    â€œâ€™Tis not pompous, Simon,” she said. “’Tis expected.”
    â€œIn other halls mayhap. Not here.” Simon surveyed the activity. “As usual, Denys, I am impressed by your meticulousness.”
    â€œMy pleasure is to please you, milord.”
    Simon laughed aloud. “And so you have. Draven on the other hand…”
    â€œâ€™Tis what he ordered,” Denys said defensively.
    â€œAye, but I can’t wait to see his face when he enters this fray.”
    Denys nodded as if understanding whatever it was Simon meant.
    Emily, on the other hand, was quite lost.
    â€œWell then,” Denys said, “if there is nothing else, I shall get back to work. Supervising and”—Denys looked to Simon—“and more supervising.”
    Simon excused him, then brought his arms from around his back to show Emily the fresh loaf of bread he held in his hands. “I swiped this from the baker’s cart. He brought it with him from the village, and I thought you might like it more than what you have.”
    She thanked him as he set it on the wooden trencher and sliced