Lord of the Manor (Trysts and Treachery Book 5) by Elizabeth Keysian (best romantic novels in english txt) 📕

“Which I fully intend to do.” Allan hoped he was making a good show of having calmed down. Inside, he wanted to rip Kennett to pieces and throw those pieces to the crows.

“Ah, well.” Kennett stroked his dark beard, then narrowed his eyes at Cecily. “I doubt that stay of execution you wanted is viable now. Imagine the complications if you’re in prison, denounced as a traitor or a Catholic plotter! I would have to wait until the cogs of the law had completed their slow grinding—and as you know, waiting is not my strong point. However, I’m not unreasonable. Hand over your whore to me, and I’ll consider giving you those additional two sennights for you to gather your funds and buy me out.”

“You dog! I’ll make you regret your filthy words.”

Cecily darted forward, but Allan caught her just in time, hissing into her ear, “Would you fly at a man armed with both sword and dagger? Let me deal with him.”

“Still plenty of fire left in her then.” Kennett smirked. “A quality that I admire in a strumpet.”

Allan could take no more. Releasing Cecily, he strode forward, knocked Kennett to the ground, and pinned his hands so he couldn’t reach for a weapon.

“One more insult aimed at my intended, and I’ll throw you in the moat and enjoy hurling limestone blocks at you until you’re insensible. If I caved your skull in, or you happened to drown, it would be no great loss.”

This utterance was greeted by gasps from both Cecily and Kennett. Then Kennett turned his head aside and burst into laughter.

“You! And her! Married? Your wits have gone begging, Allan. Take her for a mistress, aye, but wed the bitch? That’s an insult to Hannah’s memory.”

“Enough!” Allan raised his fist, ready to strike the man who lay crushed beneath him, but the next instant, Cecily was beside him, tugging his arm down.

“Stay your hand. He’s not worth getting into trouble over. Besides, methinks that something’s amiss. That’s Simpkin running up the lane, waving to get our attention.”

Reluctantly, Allan got off Kennett and dragged the man to his feet. “You are the one who has been given a stay of execution, not me. Now—be gone. I have business to attend to.”

He turned his back, silently daring Kennett to strike him, safe in the knowledge that the man was too much of a coward to do so in cold blood, especially in front of witnesses. Not that he’d mind having the excuse of being forced to kill the man in self-defense, only… Kennett was Hannah’s brother, and he owed it to his dead wife not to slay the man, no matter how much he deserved it.

“What is it, Simpkin?” he demanded as the boy puffed up to them.

Simpkin took a moment to catch his breath, then turned his attention to Cecily. “Master Martin says you are to come at once. Goodwife Baker is brought to childbed, and your midwifery skills are needed.”

Allan blinked. He hadn’t known Cecily had any such skills. This woman would never cease to amaze him. What an accomplished wife she would make! But could he even consider wedlock if Kennett’s story turned out to be true? Because a marriage built on betrayal was doomed to fail.

“Simpkin—help our visitor onto his horse, and escort him off the manor. If he objects, set the dogs on him. Then remain here, I pray, and get the kitchen fire going. We’ll be in dire need of vittles by the time we return.”

“There’s no need for you—”

“Hush.” Allan held Cecily’s gaze until she looked away, and his heart sank. Mayhap, Kennett had spoken the truth after all. Whatever the situation was, it needed discussing. They could talk about it on the way to the village.

“Are you warm enough? Do you want to borrow a spare cloak? Do you need to take any medicinal herbs from the garden?”

Cecily, who was looking pale, shook her head. “Nay—I thank you, sir. Martin will have all he needs to hand. He cares for the mother while I help bring forth the child.”

Allan took her by the elbow again, remembering the joyous panic and nervous exhaustion that had attended Hannah’s lying in. And the desolation thereafter. Nothing must be allowed to go wrong with this birth.

“Hurry, then.” He could have Simpkin saddle up Baldur for them, but with the ground frozen solid and the lane full of potholes, he didn’t want to risk a nasty fall.

Cecily struggled to keep up with his stride as he headed for the village, so he had to slow down in order to speak with her.

“Is there any truth in that gossip of which Kennett spoke?”

He held his breath. So much depended on her answer. He’d hoped for a denial, so it felt like a dagger twisting in his gut when she whispered, “Aye, there is.”

If they hadn’t been on an urgent mission, he’d have stopped in his tracks, shaken her by the shoulders, kissed her, and pleaded with her. Done anything, in truth, to change that “aye” into a “nay”. But the admission was now made, and he couldn’t make her unsay the words.

“So—it’s all true, then?”

“Aye. Benedict, Martin, and Anselm all worked at the commandery. The younger two were lay brothers. Not full monks, and certainly nothing like the warrior monks, the former crusading Hospitallers of whom you may have heard. Benedict’s vows were more binding, since he was the chaplain. The Order did not fare too badly when the other monasteries were being torn asunder, as the Hospitallers weren’t considered true monks. But in 1540, because we were still loyal to the pope, and filthy lies about superstitious practices started flying around, the commandery was seized by the late King Henry and—” Her voice shook, and it was a moment before she continued. “And everyone associated with it, but most especially the preceptor and other officials, was made to swear the