Jennifer August Read Online Free Page A

back in his chair, studying the older man closely.
    “Nay. ‘Tis not been easy. Several men have tried to take Falcon Fire. Tried and failed.”
    “Did your forces repel them?”
    “Aye, but only with a bit of help.” Another slice of venison, another bit of cheese. And no further explanation.
    “What sort of help?” Quinn grew frustrated. The man seemed more inclined to eat than discuss the miraculous state of the keep after two years of neglect and war. Apparently, he would have to be blunt. “I’ve heard tale of a certain knight in these parts. One known for his sense of justice. Is he the one who has aided you?”
    A hush descended on the warriors, followed quickly by the scrape of wood on stone as benches were pushed back and the men sprang to their feet. Quinn followed the tilt of their heads to the arch separating the dining hall and the entry. His betrothed, gowned in a dress of deep red, moved toward him, smiling at each table she passed, dipping an occasional curtsy. The slow, measured pace of her gait allowed him to drink his fill of her, from the demure rounded neckline of her bodice that showed only a hint of creamy skin, to the nipped in waist and gently sloping hips. The skirt of her gown brushed against the floor, but he caught an occasional glimpse of her small feet encased in matching red slippers. At last she stood defiantly before him, ire etched on her delicate face. Her golden eyes sparkled with agitation as she pursed her full lips and jutted her pointed chin at him with mulish intent.
    “In England , ‘tis considered rude to begin the evening meal without the presence of the entire household.” Stirling ’s dulcet tones held an underlying thread of hammered iron.
    Quinn rose and half-bowed, offering her his hand. She eyed him warily before placing her hand in his. He curled his fingers around hers and assisted her onto the dais. He looked over the sea of men watching and nodded sharply. “Eat.”
    He waited until they complied, returning to their meals with guarded silence. “Your pardon, demoiselle. I believed you to be indisposed. After all, you did run away rather quickly during my bath.” He held her chair for her, then pulled it closer to his after she sat.
    Her cheeks reddened and she glared at him under her lashes. “I did no such thing, Sir Norman. This keep does not run itself. I have many more important duties than to see to your bath.” She scooted the chair away again.
    He raised a silent brow, which he noticed did not faze her in the least. His betrothed possessed a nerve greater than that of many warriors he’d fought with and against. He could not decide if the character flaw was intriguing or irritating.
    “What duties occupy you now, Stirling ?” he queried and noted the slight stiffening of her shoulders. “ Stirling ?” he prompted.
    “‘Tis unseemly for you to address me by my given name, Sir.” She sipped from her own glass of mead, her eyes challenging him over the rim.
    “In three days time, ‘twill not matter. As my wife, you will officially regain your title of Lady.”
    She set her cup down carefully, folded her hands in her lap and drew in a deep breath. He sensed the battle was just beginning. “I have decided to decline William’s offer of marriage to you.”
    He smiled, though a frisson of unease snaked through him. Did she know? “Have you? Why?”
    She shrugged. “Falcon Fire and her people have been through rough years since Father’s false imprisonment. They need a man who can lead them, help them grow and flourish without commanding them without mercy. I do not believe you are that man. Your very position within William’s army gives proof to that.”
    “Aye. ‘Tis true I led the King’s army when he defeated Harold and before. But I no longer am in his service.” Quinn’s patience began to slip. He decided such boldness was definitely an irritating trait, especially in his future wife.
    “You cannot change the person you are,”