A Lord for Olivia Read Online Free

figure at the top of the stairs was ominously substantial, and her voice just as ominously shrill. Edmond flinched. Even in his inebriated state he realized that a snug little farm might not be adequate compensation for having to marry a woman with such a carrying voice and nasty tone.
    As soon as she saw Moonstar, she yelped, “Get that creature out of the hall!”
    â€œNot till you see what I’ve brought. Look. I’ve brought a lord.”
    â€œWhat? Here? Who?” Though no less shrill, the tone of the woman’s voice shifted to one of interest, and she began to descend the stairs with a heavy tread.
    Edmund, one hand at Moonstar’s bridle, the other soothingly stroking his muzzle, looked up, shame and embarrassment warring with curiosity to see just how distasteful Miss Ormhill might be.
    As she came into view Edmund flinched. The woman was not only stout and shrill of voice, she was plain and by no means young. Can this really be my bride-to-be? he thought, becoming unpleasantly sober. I can’t say he didn’t warn me, though I think he and the innkeeper erred in saying she wasn’t shrewish. Still, he acknowledged that Miss Ormhill might have some justification for her loud protests, with a horse stomping and snorting in the hall, while Ormhill yelled like a wild man.
    Edmund briefly contemplated mounting Storm and fleeing the scene. He went so far as to cease trying to calmOrmhill’s animal, turning instead to seek his own horse. He had not far to search.
    Storm, whose warhorse disposition had served Edmund so well in battle, had followed his master up the stairs and into the hall, apparently concluding that if the other horse could enter this house, he could, too. When Miss Ormhill charged toward them, arms waving in shooing motions, screaming at the top of her lungs, it must have seemed to Storm that they were once again in battle, for his head snaked forward, his formidable teeth bared, and Edmund barely managed to grab the reins in time to save the woman from a nasty bite.
    As might have been expected, this did not exactly soothe the stocky dame’s temper. She began to scream, “Murder, murder, help!” She backed away so swiftly she tripped over her own feet and fell to the floor with a crash, which undid all the efforts of Jason, the elderly doorman, and three other servants to calm and control Moonstar. He reared onto his hind feet and began thrashing and pawing at the air, unseating Ormhill and completing Miss Ormhill’s rout. She turned, clambered up the first few steps on her hands and knees, and then ascended them with astonishing rapidity given her bulk, yelling all the way.
    Moonstar took two or three turns around the great hall, evading all attempts at capture. Storm gave a victory snort and allowed himself to be led outside. Edmund stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the handsome mansion, now alight and buzzing with activity, and spoke soothingly to his mount while his brain churned. Perhaps it would be easy to escape his fate. That woman, no matter how desperate she was for a husband, might reject him after this contretemps. He suspected he was grasping at straws, though.
    Finally Moonstar emerged, a servant on each side of his head and one in the saddle. Trembling and prancing nervously, he allowed himself to be led away. Edmund followed, leading Storm. Flight would be dishonorable. A little too sober to believe he would escape Miss Ormhill’s clutches, he turned his mind to practical matters such as bedding down his horse and then, upon returning to thehouse, inquiring about the well-being of Jason Ormhill, whom he had last seen hurtling backward through the air.
    The hall was filled with servants, and they were gossiping loudly among themselves. When Edmund crossed the threshold, he heard hoarse whispers of “That’s him. The one as is to marry our Miss Livvy.” Comments, mostly favorable, on his face and figure ceased