Betrothed Read Online Free

sequestered for a lifetime behind
stonewalls or hanging in the wind.
     
    Isabeau
bypassed the sidesaddle and pulled a smaller travel saddle from the pegs. She
lugged the saddle back to Meadowlark when she thought she heard the stirring of
a stable boy. She waited a heartbeat more before sucking in air and deeming the
way clear, backed into the shadows against the wall and held her breath,
praying.
    Her
father had been right. She could saddle Meadowlark in the dark.
    She
stroked the blaze on the long nose. Tugging the reins downward enough to lower
Meadowlark’s head, she whispered into the animal’s ear.
    “Please
be quiet ‘til we get beyond the gate and then you can fly like a bird. We’ll
stretch into the wind as we did as children. No one could catch us. No one will
catch us now.”  Isabeau wondered if her words were plea or prayer.
    She
secured her pack to the back of the saddle and led Meadowlark from the dark
stables into the bailey. The stars had already faded and dawn colors streaked
the sky when they reached the road outside of the east gate. It was little used
and rarely watched. Hearing the latch fall back into place behind her, Isabeau
knew she had already gone beyond the threshold of regrets.
    Praise
God, she had taught herself to ride astride. Never had she dreamed she would
use the skill in such a bold deception. Pray her disguise was true.

C hapter 3
     
     
    Isabeau
hiked up her skirts and settled into the saddle. She leaned close to
Meadowlark’s mane, and gently squeezed her knees. With a soft snuffle,
Meadowlark began a brisk road-eating ramble.
    Isabeau’s
instincts were to start out at a full gallop but such an action was foolhardy.
It was still too dim for fast travel. What good would all her planning be if
Meadowlark broke a leg in a rodent hole?
    She
pushed her horse as fast as she dared, all the while waiting for more light and
searching for a suitable place to change into her disguise. She wanted any
early risers who saw her depart to see Lady Isabeau in an old dress rather than
the earl’s messenger leaving twice. If Simon decided to send out searchers, she
did not want them armed with an accurate description.
    A
click of her tongue and an easy tug on the reins brought Meadowlark to a halt.
Isabeau surveyed the area closer and then slid from her perch. A well-worn path
led into a patch of trees. She led her palfrey into the grove and twined the
reins on a stout tree branch. Cooing encouragement and gratitude to the animal,
she smoothed her hand down the long neck.
    “This
won’t take but a minute, I promise you. Then we’ll be on our way and soon you
will be able to run flat out.” She patted the rear flank as she released the
bulging pack.
    Shaking
out the black and gold livery, she hung them over a tree branch and stripped
out of her apron, dress and under-dress. Draping them haphazardly over another
branch, she began to scramble into the breeches and discovered the task wasn’t
as simple as pulling on a pair of woolen stockings. She could put one leg in
the garment but when she attempted to slip her left foot in she promptly lost
her balance, landing on her bottom. The mossy ground cushioned her fall but not
her dignity. Nor her inadvertent oath.
    She
cursed aloud at her lack of feminine grace and then giggled. Was she already
getting into the character of a young male taking on the world?  She
reminded herself to get it out of her system before she reached the convent.
The Abbess would surely frown on language peppered with blasphemies.
    Isabeau
wiggled into the breeches and pulled them over her hips before she tried to
stand again. She secured the ties and then pulled the tunic and message pouch
over her head. In her makeshift plumage, she must keep a large distance between
herself and those she passed on the road. Solitary travel had always been her
strategy.
    She
would be cautious.
    She
would be discrete.
    She
needed to get back on the road and put some ground behind