Jennifer August Read Online Free

the hilt of his sword, pushing aside the small tingle of excitement at joining this tradition. He was a warrior, and warriors showed no emotion. To do so was to show weakness.
    And Quinn the Avenger possessed no weaknesses.
    “Rise,” he commanded. His men gained their feet immediately, silent and alert. The soldiers of Falcon Fire glanced at each other, then turned to look at a gray-haired knight standing near the lord’s table. He nodded and they stood, a low rumble issuing from them.
    Quinn strode through the ranks, past each table and each man, meeting every one eye to eye, before stepping onto the dais. He looked down at the aging knight, recognizing him as Lady Stirling’s defender. He motioned the man forward. “How are you called?” he asked loudly.
    “Sir John.” The man half-bowed, though he did not take his eyes from Quinn.
    “You are the captain of the guard here?”
    “Aye.”
    “Join me.” Quinn offered his hand to the older man who looked at it warily before finally grasping it. They stood together, forearms clasped for a long moment, before the man moved up beside Quinn. “Will you swear fealty to me? And through me, to William, King of England?” He kept his voice low, so only John could hear.
    The knight studied him hard for a long silent moment, then nodded. “Aye. I shall.”
    “And will your men?”
    “Aye. Eventually.”
    “‘Tis enough for now,” Quinn murmured, pleased. ‘Twas actually more than he anticipated. Not for the first time he wondered who led these men since Lord Robert’s imprisonment two years prior. Most keeps of this size and riches would have been dominated long ago. Add the rumors of unfound gold and a beautiful woman to the pot and the feat became astounding. He looked at the assembled group and nodded. “Knights of Falcon Fire, join with me and my men tonight in a feast of celebration and renewal.” He looked behind him and found a goblet of honey colored liquid and raised the pewter vessel in the air. “I marry your Lady Stirling in three days time. A new lord and a new beginning. For us all.”
    Silence reigned until one young man, ears tipped with red stepped forward, mug clutched to his black and red tunic. “To Lady Stirling and Lord Quinn.” He raised the cup and glared at his fellow knights. One by one they repeated the toast until it came full circle, reaching Quinn once more.
    He downed his drink, nearly choking on the harsh taste of the stout ale, but managed to finish it all. The assembled knights did the same and he turned, slamming his mug to the oak tabletop. “Food!” he demanded, walking to the high-backed chair. “More drink.” He winced as he ordered the vile liquid, his head already swimming from the potent brew. This English mead contained none of the subtle textures and flavors of the good French wine he preferred.
    Servants poured in from every direction, placing platters of cold meats, cheeses and breads before the men. Sir John slid into the seat on Quinn’s right. “You’ve won their admiration for your ability to hold down the mead, if naught else. ‘Tis brewed more strongly here than other regions of the country. Argyle, our brewmaster, likes to keep it in the barrels a bit longer.”
    “Why did you join me?” Quinn asked, reaching for a round of bread, hoping to rid his mouth of the lingering bitterness from the mead.
    “For my Lady Stirling. Whether she will admit it or not, Falcon Fire needs a man who can protect this land.”
    “And you think I am this man?”
    John shrugged. “‘Tis what I wagered on.” He sliced a thin piece of meat, wrapped a hunk of cheese in it and bit into the concoction, chewing with gusto. He swallowed and waved a hand encompassing the men in the hall. “‘Tis what they wager on, as well.”
    “This keep has been without a lord for over two years. I do not believe a land so rich in resources has been left alone by sheer coincidence.” Quinn tore another chunk off the bread and leaned