Free Once a Bride by Shari Anton Page B

shifted beside her, revealing his discomfort over how someone could get in and out of the castle in some secret way. “Perhaps there is a passage through the storage rooms or undercroft dating back to ancient days, fallen into disuse but known of by his lordship.”
    Simon didn’t have to say that if her father knew of such a passage, he should have informed his steward. Eloise thought he should have informed his daughter, too.
    She stifled a yawn and stretched her limbs. If she didn’t get up and move she’d fall asleep at the table. Now that she knew Roland wouldn’t use last night’s events against her or her father, she could relax some.
    For now, she’d leave in Simon’s hands the matter of the secret passageway. He’d investigate and inform her if he discovered anything.
    She dare not mention the last disturbing incident that interfered with her sleep. If she allowed herself to sit here and mull over her near escape from a kiss, or more, she’d go witless.
    “Are you confined to the hall?” she asked Simon.
    “Aye. You are not, but do not be alarmed if one of the guards follows you. Should he show you the least discourtesy, inform me immediately and I will set the man aright.”
    She had to smile at Simon’s confidence. “I gather you feel you have some authority over the earl’s men.”
    “I am a knight, Lelleford’s steward, and therefore possess authority. Besides, the men who guard us now are among those who will remain here with St. Marten. Best they know their place and limits from the beginning.”
    “And St. Marten?”
    “Best tread carefully there, milady. He rules us with the king’s blessing. How tight a noose we suffer will depend greatly on how well we deal together.”
    Her smile became strained at the mention of a noose. “So you say I should be pleasant to him?”
    “ ’Twould not be amiss.”
    She rose from the bench, hearing echoes of her father’s orders to placate Kenworth. ’Twas still galling. Now Simon suggested she not annoy Roland, either.
    So how did one deal with thorns one couldn’t pluck out? Ignore them as much as possible, she supposed.
    First she’d eat. Then talk with the cook about nooning and evening meal. Then a word with the laundress—aye, she’d occupy her time and mind so fully she’d not have time to fret over Kenworth and his trackers or over her father’s or Brother Walter’s whereabouts.
    Or wonder if she might have enjoyed Roland’s kiss. Where Hugh’s lips had been thin and dry, his half brother’s were full and lush. A tempting mouth.
    Damn. She had to stop comparing the half brothers. ’Twasn’t fair to either and only reminded her of her disloyalty to Hugh.
    One of the earl’s guards followed her into the kitchen and then on to the laundry. He hovered at a respectful distance and kept mum. Though he didn’t intrude, she chafed at his presence.
    Just before nooning, about the time she realized that no amount of busy work could hold her fretting at bay, Roland and Marcus strode through the hall’s doors with a bedraggled Brother Walter in tow. The monk provided ample distraction from the too handsome man who’d haunted her night and snared too many of her thoughts this morn.
    Brother Walter’s robes were mud-caked and torn. He’d lost a sandal. Eloise caught a whiff of him and nearly gagged on the stench. ’Twasn’t mud coating his robe.
    Behind her, Simon uttered an appropriate curse.
    Appalled, she pointed at the door. “He does not enter the hall until he no longer stinks. I shall have buckets of water taken out to the bailey.”
    Roland seemed about to object, then apparently changed his mind. “See if you can find Brother Walter less odorous garb,” he told Marcus, then roughly ushered the monk out the door.
    Marcus’s amusement lit his face.
    Eloise wasn’t the least amused. “What possessed you to bring the monk into the hall? Sweet mercy, where did you find him?”
    His smile widened. “Running across the bailey