Free Terri Brisbin by The Betrothal Page A

floor. When his guard stepped forward, Lord Braden shoved him back and ran down the path.
    In these past weeks, she’d never given in to the urge to cry. Now, the tears burned her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as any hopes she might have had of living through this crumbled. The anger inside of him was so great and so dangerous that she knew, with the wrong word or action, she could be its target.
     
    Daylight crept in a few hours later and so did the servants. Without a word, the splintered partition was removed and a new one installed. A quiet unease reigned over the chapel, even through the Mass and later. All the gossip in the world could not lighten her mood. Now confronted with the truth of his character, Joanna knew she must escape the lord of Wynwydd.
    But how?
    He kept guards around the chapel and another near the front gates. Anything pertaining to her care was asked of him first. His scrutiny missed nothing.
    For two days it rained and the weather made Joanna long for a walk outside this stone prison. Left on her own, most of her time over these past few years had been spent at the one remaining family estate in the woodlands of eastern England.With no one to tell her otherwise, she’d walk for miles, enjoying the sound of the birds and wildlife around her. Her own gardens were fruitful with herbs and plants and flowering bushes.
    She would never see those gardens again. Never choose seedlings again. Never harvest the bounty of herbs her garden produced. The winds outside whipped around the buildings and wailed down the pathways of the yard. The mournful sounds matched her feelings. Now, she could only pace the forty steps front to back and twenty paces side to side that this church offered.
    And walk them she did. She tried to exhaust herself so that she could sleep, but the dreams and worries kept rest from her. The leaky roof of the church did not help, for the rain dripped in several places with such force and regularity that it almost sounded like music to a song. A discordant song, though.
    The thunderstorms woke her in the night and the heavy rain kept most away from her side. A servant would scurry in with her meal and then race through the raindrops back to the keep. Then on the third day of rain, things changed. Instead of just a meal, the servants brought out a table in pieces and assembled it in one corner. More arrived with linens and platters and goblets and pitchers of wine and ale and then all manner of foods. ’Twas much more than one or even two could eat.
    Lord Orrick led the way, followed by Lady Margaret and then Lord Braden. Her betrothed appeared uncomfortable as he approached her. Joanna tried not to back away or shake as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. Not usually the one for reticence, he would not meet her gaze as Lord Orrick began.
    “My ladywife thought it might be worthwhile for the four of us to dine together. As the caretakers, or future caretakers, of a large number of souls and many acres of land and crops, there may be topics of mutual interest to us all.”
    The servants had finished their work and a square table,surrounded by four chairs and covered with linen cloths and platters of mouthwatering food, awaited them. Lord Orrick took her hand and led her to one of the chairs and she watched over her shoulder while Lord Braden did the same. Lady Margaret nodded to the servants and the meal proceeded.
    Joanna ate silently as the two men exchanged ideas about the practice of crop rotation and the weather patterns of the past two growing seasons. When Lady Margaret brought up her own garden on the other side of the keep, Joanna joined in the talk.
    “I would like your opinion on the layout of my newest herb garden, Joanna. I think it is the best place for it, but you can tell me what you think when you see it.”
    Silence spread as they each realized that Joanna would not see it as long as she stayed here.
    “Actually, my lady, I have seen it. I delivered a cartful