Droit De Seigneur Read Online Free Page A

probably hadn’t seen a bath since he’d left his mother’s apron strings to come to court when he was six.
    They were off, and she was alone with him. Again.
    “It’s a good thing you’re a good tracker and you’ve an excellent hand with potions, Amber. It wouldn’t have gone well if we hadn’t been able to find Mr. Fitzwilliam.” Amber shrugged. It was of little consequence to her whether or not a Norman soldier was lost, and she told him as much.
    The look on his face, as well as his tone, was sobering to the bone. “I realize that fact, my dear. But what you don’t realize is who that man’s father is. Think of it now, you’re obviously a smart wench. Fitzwilliam. Fitz. Son of. William. He’s the King’s by blow. You just found King William’s bastard son.”
    Amber sat down, right where she was, not caring that her best tunic was getting filthy.
    She had deliberately gotten the King’s son hopelessly lost in the forest.
    “Tell me something, Mademoiselle Cooper. What would you have done this afternoon, if I had allowed you to reach your little knife this afternoon, while I was spanking you?” She tried not to let the surprise show on her face, but knew she had lost that battle. “I would have done something that I would have hoped would have stopped you from beating me further.” She didn’t always do the right thing, but she tried to tell the truth, as best she could.
    Piers was impressed. If he had been in her place, he would probably have made exactly the same move, not that that was to be encouraged in a female. She certainly was an unusual one.
    “My men told me that someone had raided their camp last night and caused some general mischief – nothing too serious. Stolen some wine and let loose the horses, things like that.” As he spoke, he wandered around her, like he was inspecting a slave at the market. “Might you know anything about such things, Miss Amber Cooper?”
    “Why ever might you think something like that of me?” she asked, proud of the fact that her nervousness wasn’t betrayed in her voice.
    “Because some of the stirrups were cut with what was a small, short blade,” he answered, easily wresting hers from where he remembered she kept it tucked in her belt, “one just such as this.”
    “There are thousands like this all over the British Isles, Sir. If you fancy mine, however, you may keep it with my compliments.” She curtsied low to him, again.
    When she rose, he was smiling down at her, in a way that set her teeth on edge. Like a wolf who had spotted a particularly tasty dinner.
    “I like you, Amber. You’ve a good head on your shoulders, for a woman, and an English one at that.”
    “I like you, too, Sir,” she answered, “for a man and a Norman.” Amber figured her words were pretty much sealing her fate, as she said the word Norman in a way that there was no doubt that she still considered him to be her enemy, regardless of the outcome of the war, but that was all right. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to live in a world full of Normans, anyway.
    To her surprise, he merely threw back that big, lion’s head of his and roared with laughter, then his hand shot out and he grabbed her by her upper arm. “You’re coming with me.” They tramped through the woods for a long time, much longer than she knew – although she could never admit that she knew – it would take them to get to the place where his soldiers had made camp.
    “Where are we going?”
    Piers didn’t deign to answer her, but continued to walk. He was so much taller than she was, that one of his strides equaled nearly three of hers. Amber was in superb shape, but he was tiring her out without even trying. Eventually, though, he saw how knackered she was becoming and relented, placing two fingers to his lips and emitting an ear piercing whistle that had his huge stallion racing to him through the trees.
    Amber hadn’t had a chance to admire the beastie before, but she was thoroughly