Free LordoftheKeep by Ann Lawrence

some
other man had fathered the babe. It would prove interesting to watch Emma’s
waistline over the next few months and see if Lord Gilles put his claim on her,
Sarah decided as she hastened to give Emma her orders.
    * * * * *
    “He said I was to weave only for him?” Emma looked down
quickly lest the flush on her face betray her. Her hands stroked the belt she’d
just finished. A belt she’d imagined looping about his waist. Her face flamed
hot.
    How enthralled she’d become!
    She must avoid his lordship, avoid such thoughts. They led
only to heartache. The distance betwixt lord and weaver was as far as that from
earth to moon. She was a servant in his household, nothing more, pledged by
loathsome vows to another.
    But the thought of moonlight sent her musing on her weaving.
She ran a hand along the smooth wood of her hand loom. Her mind conjured the
shimmer of moonlight, molten silver, reflecting off a pool in the darkest hours
of night. Abruptly, she rose and fled to the dyeing hut to have a special batch
of wool prepared—wool for a surcoat.
    * * * * *
    Angelique’s quick tug at her hem caught her attention. Her
back ached and her fingers cramped. She had not noticed how much time had flown
by as she worked.
    “Ah, sweet. Are you hungry?” She slipped her shuttle into
the threads and hefted her babe to her lap. She kissed the small head as her
daughter fed. “I have not forgotten you.” When Angelique finished, Emma
hastened to the hall, then paused and looked about. “But I have forgotten my
place.” Quickly, she made her way to a table where several spinners sat in deep
conversation. Cradling Angelique in her arms, she ate from the communal platter
of venison that fed a dozen workers, from spinners to dairymaids. She tore up
soft pieces of bread for Angelique and crumbled cheese. Not once did she look
toward the high table. As always, she kept her eyes downcast.
    Despite her efforts, however, she could not ignore all the
activity in the hall. This evening, men from the Duke of Norfolk’s household
dined with the company. William regaled them with song. She made every attempt
to pretend indifference when the hall fell silent and his rich voice filled the
vast space.
    Truly the voice of an angel, Emma thought. Each note clear
and fine. She looked about. Even the men sat enthralled, watching William. The
man on her right leaned across the table and whispered to another. “One can
always tell when Sir William’s taken a new wench—he composes a new song!” The
men laughed loudly over their jest. Emma sat frozen and sick. What simple
devices men used to lure a woman. How simple of women to be snared so easily.
    William took a long drink from a tankard and waved off calls
for him to sing again. When the crowd grew insistent, he strode among the
tables and bodily lifted a small man in colorful garb from his seat. Emma
watched the ripple of muscles along William’s back and arms as he hoisted the man
overhead. She shivered and remembered the strength of his hands as they’d
bitten into her arms and held her immobile.
    Cheers rose. William deposited the man on the table before
Lord Gilles, and going again amongst the people, grabbed up apples and empty tankards.
He tossed them to the man who deftly snatched them from the air and began to
juggle.
    Emma did not see the objects whirling over the juggler’s
head, for he offered her an excuse to stare at the head table and the men who
sat there. She examined them all, comparing them to William. They ranged from
young to old. Nothing stirred within her as she examined their faces—until she
settled her gaze on Lord Gilles. He watched the entertainment with a smile on
his face, much like the one he’d bestowed on her that very day in the bailey.
That simple smile had knotted her stomach and caused heat to flood through her.
    She flicked a glance from William to Lord Gilles. William
was roving the company, bending and whispering to women as he moved about.