When Love Awaits Read Online Free Page A

Henry asked, chuckling as he came forward. “The lady Amelia? Have you brought her with you?”
    “No, my lord. She is in the country,” Rolfe replied, uncomfortable with the line of questioning.
    Rolfe was never at ease in the king’s presence. Rolfe was the bigger man by far, but Henry was the king of England and unlikely to encourage anyone to disregard the fact. He was also heavily built, with broad shoulders, a thick neck, and the powerful arms of a fighter. Henry had red hair which he kept cut short in thecurrent shaggy fashion, and which emphasized his florid face. He was not lavish in his dress, unlike Queen Eleanor, though no one saw her often since Henry had confined her to Winchester for instigating the battles between him and his sons.
    Henry was in superb shape for a man forty years old. He could outwalk and outride his courtiers and usually exhausted anyone who tried to keep up with him. He was a man of such energy that he seldom even sat down. His meals were usually taken standing up, walking about his hall. Court etiquette prevented everyone else from sitting as well, a bother much complained about, though never in the king’s hearing.
    After the amenities had been dispensed with and they were seated, each with a silver goblet of wine, Henry asked with a twinkle in his gray eyes, “I did not expect to see you for some time. Have you come so soon to curse me for Kempston?”
    “All goes well there, my lord,” Rolfe quickly assured him. “Four of the eight keeps are mine, and the other four are closed tightly, waiting to be secured.”
    “So the Black Wolf has lived up to his reputation!” Henry cried, delighted.
    Rolfe flushed. He hated the name, certain it was inspired by his dark looks rather than by any wolflike prowess. It embarrassed him.
    “My coming has less to do with Kempston as a whole than with Crewel particularly, your majesty. I have a neighbor there who has set her people against mine. I am not a man to deal with domestics.”
    “What fighter is?” Henry chuckled. “But you say ‘her people’? Your neighbor is a woman? I can think of no widow in that area.”
    “She is no widow, nor wife to an absent lord. Sheis daughter to Sir William of Montwyn and residing on her dower property which lies next to Crewel.”
    “Sir William.” Henry considered, thoughtful. “Ah, now I have him. A baron who wed one of my earl’s daughters, the lady Elisabeth I believe, yes, daughter of Shefford. But he closed himself up in his estates some six years ago when Elisabeth died. A tragic affair. They were a love match, and he suffered terribly at her death.”
    “He has closed his daughter up in Pershwick and forgotten her, I am told.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It seems the man does not wish to be reminded he has a daughter.”
    Henry shook his head. “I remember her. Not a comely child, but spirited. She had a nervous disorder, I believe her mother said. The poor woman was forever having to run after the child with medicine. You say Sir William is neglecting her? There is no excuse for that. Why, the girl would be around twenty years old. She should have been wed long ago. Even if finding her a husband proved difficult, there is always some man who can be bought, isn’t there? If she is not for the church, then she must have a husband.”
    “I agree, my lord.” Rolfe leaped at the ideal opening. “And I would be that husband.”
    There was a shocked silence, and then Henry began to laugh. “You jest, Rolfe. That face of yours sends my loveliest ladies swooning, yet you would settle for a plain girl?”
    Rolfe flinched. He supposed it was too much to hope that the ugly duckling had grown into a swan.
    “Few marriages are made for preference,” Rolfe replied stoically.
    “But…you are your own man. No one is tellingyou you must marry this girl, so why would you wish to?”
    “Not counting the domestic peace she will bring me, she and I are neighbors. She has lived there for a long