The Warrior's Game Read Online Free Page B

expected. So, consequently, had been Ami's allowance.
    Against the threat to her attire, she backed up a few steps into the tiny alcove created by the slight extension of the balcony past the antechamber's doorway. It was a useful bit of space, set with a bench so folk might sit while they waited to be called into their king's presence.
    As Ami dropped onto the seat her rage parted to reveal the despair that lurked beneath it. John had given her precious home into the care of the basest of his slavering French mercenaries. Before long, it wouldn't be just fine gowns she worried about affording.
    Tears welled, born of homesickness and hopelessness. She refused to let them fall. Once, far too long ago, she had lived a life of purpose, where her skills had been valued and she, free to come and go as she pleased within the confines of a world that cherished her. Despite the difference in their years Richard de la Beres had been a doting husband and lover enough to leave her gasping in spent passion when he was finished. She missed him dearly.
    The lump in Ami's throat grew. She fought her despair with every weapon she had at hand. She told herself it was a miracle she'd left the king's bedchamber without ever seeing the interior of his bed.
    That didn't help. No matter the truth, none of the women with whom Ami now shared her life would believe she returned untouched for no other reason than they didn't wish to believe.
    The unfairness of this tore through her, feeding her anger to protect her from what threatened to consum her. Damn every one of those bitches and biddies. Not even twisting the truth to suggest Sir Enguerran had been present for the whole of her interview would save her. Once any of the wards learned that Sir Michel had also been present Ami, and her supposed use by the commoner and his king, would be the butt of salacious gossip for weeks. At least she hadn't been alone with the commoner! No gentlewoman she knew would ever believe her virtue intact if they discovered she'd been closeted with Sir Michel.
    Ami clenched her fists. Years of protecting her virtue, of denying all her hopes and needs, all destroyed in a few short moments by some man's few careless words, and she had no idea how to begin repairing the damage they'd done to her. If it took the rest of her life she'd find a way to repay Sir Enguerran for his stupidity and John for his insults as well as for giving what was precious to her to his arrogant mercenary.
    As for that baseborn brute with his foul black mail? Why, if he stole so much as a farthing of what was hers she vowed she'd cut out his ruthless greedy heart right through that metal coat of his.

     
    As Lady de la Beres slammed the door John whirled to face Michel, his eyes alive and his smile wide. “By God but she’s magnificent! How could I have overlooked her? I hope she never again so abuses my majesty. It would be a terrible thing to have to break that spirit. Ah, but it's a greater waste to squander her passion on a man who has no more appetite than a eunuch. She is wasted on you, Michel.”
    Michel shrugged off another of the king’s insults. John held suspect the masculinity of any man who didn’t nightly take a woman into his bed. After contracting one too annoying but thankfully curable afflictions in the baths Michel had chosen caution when it came to relieving his lusts. He now contented himself with the scattering of healthy maids he encountered as he accompanied John on the king's never-ending journey from property to royal property.
    However, satisfying his baser needs was among the reasons Michel looked forward to marriage. Not that he had any expectation of visiting his wife’s bed more often than it took to create an heir or two, not given his common birth and English arrogance. Nay, once he was wed and had lands and the reliable income that came with them, he'd find himself a woman from his own class. She'd willingly serve his needs, grateful for the comfort and