Jennifer August Read Online Free Page B

she returned.
    Quinn gave up all pretense. “You misunderstand, Stirling . ‘Tis not a request. If you do not wed with me, you will follow your father’s footsteps to imprisonment.”

Chapter Two
    “I must find the information Father gathered about the rebels, Millane.”
    Stirling paced the length of her bedchamber, criss-crossing the flagstone floor quickly in her agitation. Her lady’s maid sprawled inelegantly across an oak chair, bright interest etched into her lovely round face.
    “You have searched practically every crevice of the keep for almost two years without finding them, my lady. There is little hope they should turn up now,” she said, swinging her foot back and forth lightly.
    “I know the papers are here somewhere. I must locate them. I am certain if I present them to William he will free me to choose my own husband.”
    Millane clicked her tongue. “Doubtful, my lady. The new king is not known for changing his mind.” She chuckled and licked her lips. “Besides, ‘tis said your Quinn is a man of incredible talent.”
    Stirling glowered, though she could not dispute her maid’s cheeky observation. The press of the Norman ’s kiss still tingled her mouth, still swirled low in her belly. “Gossip will do me no good, Millane. I do not want a man of war and violence, I want a man of tenderness and compassion.”
    Millane snorted. “Something you’ll not find, to be sure.” The maid rose and stood beside her, taking her hands. “Men are governed by their desires, my lady, and that is how you shall rule him. It matters not if this Norman is the stoutest warrior, the fiercest of all Williams army. Seek out his desires and manipulate him with those.”
    Stirling shook her head, pulling away from her maid. “This one is not so easy as that, Millane. He is cold and demanding. He is aware of everything that happens around him. No,” she rubbed her arms. “He will not be beguiled.”
    Stirling walked to the hearth, staring up at the portrait of her mother, trying to ease the desperation coursing within her. Lady Gillian, clad in a red and black dress, sat atop a mare of silvery-white. Together the pair stood motionless at the edge of the reefs that bordered Falcon Fire. The restless sea churned and threatened to sweep her proud mother away, but the artist perfectly captured Lady Gillian’s defiant challenge in her intense blue-eyed gaze, iron straight spine and daring grin. “Oh Mother, if only you were here to help me.” Stirling sighed and resumed pacing, hands clasped tightly behind her, lips pursed in concentration.
    “My lady?”
    “Aye, Millane?” She turned to face the girl.
    “Have you talked with the maids and scullery girls? The servants always know more of what goes on in the keep than the masters.” She waggled her eyebrows, a wide smile on her face. “‘Tis much more interesting down below, you know. Men talk of the oddest things after they have--”
    “Enough,” Stirling ordered curtly, in no mood to hear more of the girl’s bedroom escapades with the soldiers. She retraced her steps.
    “What are you afraid of, my lady? Lord Quinn? The marriage bed?” the maid asked pertly.
    Stirling scowled. “I fear nothing. Certainly not some Norman fool who seeks to rob me of my lands.”
    “Then why do you jump and pace so? Your hands clench and your forehead knits with every step you take.”
    Stirling stopped moving, consciously smoothing her furrowed brow. “I must find the proof, ‘tis as simple as that.”
    The maid’s impertinent questioning would have likely earned her a knock about the head in another household, but Stirling was fond of the girl. Millane had come to them shortly before Lady Gillian’s death and Stirling took her under her wing, elated to have a friend her own age.
    “Are you certain ‘tis not the dark Norman causing such reaction?” She grinned slyly. “Perhaps you wished to sample a bit of him as he bathed?”
    “I wished no such thing.” Even