Adrienne Basso Read Online Free Page B

nothing to prevent the attack on our lands,” Fiona said. “That, coupled with Spencer’s injury, has made it impossible to find a nobleman willing to foster him, to give him the proper training needed to attain knighthood.”
    Sir George stared at her somberly. “Have you considered the boy’s future might lie with the church?”
    “Oh, Sir George, not you, too,” Fiona said, bristling at the remark. “’Tis bad enough that I must listen to my brother harp upon how Spencer’s infirmary makes him fit only for a priestly life. I expected more from you.”
    Sir George bowed his head. “I only want what is best for the boy.”
    “As do I,” Fiona huffed, though there were moments she had questioned her own motivation. Was her need for revenge putting Spencer in a dangerous position? Should she listen to men like Sir George and her brother, who were so certain the only course for Spencer was a life of spiritual devotion?
    Feeling a twinge of uncertainty, Fiona watched Spencer finally make his way to their side. His smile was wide and genuine as he embraced Sir George. It renewed her spirits to see the boy so happy. And renewed her determination. She refused to languish here at her brother’s keep, wasting precious time. She would not quietly accept the future that others wanted to foist upon her son. She would fight for the future he deserved.
    Had not Father Niall himself reluctantly agreed the boy had no true calling to be God’s servant? And when further pressed, the priest had added that he highly doubted Spencer would be happy living a quiet life of faithful devotion.
    Seeing the hunger and longing in Spencer’s eyes when the men were training was proof enough of the boy’s true desires. He deserved to inherit his father’s lands, to lead and protect their people. Somehow, someway, Fiona was going to make certain he had the chance.
    “Will we be ready to leave soon, Sir George?” Fiona asked.
    The answering silence from the knight was disturbing. Fiona suppressed a shiver of alarm. If Sir George abandoned them now, they would be stuck here for months. Maybe even years. So great was her distress, Fiona failed to notice her brother, Harold, sauntering smoothly across the bailey toward them.
    “Ah, I see your chivalrous knight has finally arrived.” Harold halted beside her, his arms crossed, booted foot restlessly tapping. His narrowed gaze slowly swept from her to Spencer, and then rested speculatively on Sir George. “Good day to you.”
    “My lord.” Sir George favored Harold with a curt nod before turning toward Fiona. “The preparations for our journey are nearly complete. If it pleases you, Lady Fiona, we will depart tomorrow at first light.”
    Spencer tilted his head in interest. “Am I going, too?”
    “Yes, of course.” Fiona smiled. He looked so young, so eager. With great effort she resisted the urge to run her hands affectionately over the lad’s dark curls, knowing the gesture would embarrass him in front of the other men. “Sir George and his men will escort us north, to the Abbey of St. Gifford, so we may visit the holy shrine.”
    Harold scoffed. “I don’t know why you insist on traveling such a great distance to pray. The brothers are not known to perform miracles or cure the infirmed.”
    “Harold!” Fiona felt her ire ignite, not only at her brother’s words, but at the smirking expression on his face. “We have no need of cures or miracles.”
    Her brother’s perceptive eyes narrowed further. “Then why go at all? Why travel these dangerous roads?”
    Fiona swallowed. Lying had never come easily, and with so much depending upon keeping her true plans secret, it was hard to find a response. But find one she must. “I need to show proper respect for the anniversary of Henry’s death. A retreat of prayer and reflection seems fitting.”
    “My chapel is at your disposal, as is my priest. Hell, your priest still resides within my keep. Are these two holy men not