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

And with these bandages on, he couldn’t touch Cecily, couldn’t feel the silk of her hair, or enjoy the creamy flesh of her cheek. He opened his arms.

Moving slowly, she nestled into him, evidently on the lookout for any discomfort he might be suffering. This stubborn, determined young woman truly had a heart of gold, more valuable than any Templar treasure.

“Are you hurt?” He kissed the top of her head, then nuzzled against her hair.

“Nay. But Charlemagne’s gone.” There was a wobble in her voice.

He held her tighter. This would be a blow from which it would take her a long time to recover. He understood how much the falcon had meant to her.

“Gone? Tell me how you know this.”

“He fought Master Clark for the key after that villain locked you in. But the last person to see Charlemagne said he was flying away, distressed, with smoke coming from his feathers. He’s not been back since the fire. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, and never before has he been absent so long.”

Allan grimaced. He’d been lying here abed for a day and a night? Surely, he had more vigor than to lie in bed all that time, letting others attend to him after such a catastrophe?

“I’m so sorry. I should get up and help you look for him.”

“Nay.” She pushed gently against his chest. “You’re under the orders of your physician, Martin. He gave you a sleeping draft yesterday to calm and quiet you while he tended to your burns. Your green doublet is ruined, I fear. It was singed and hot, and sticking to you in places, so we had to cut it off.”

He would have laughed, only he’d have ended up choking. “You fret over my doublet when you have lost your bird, your home, and—I assume—all your possessions. Did the fire spread?”

“It did not, thanks be to Mary. I don’t know what can be saved from my cottage. Well, your cottage, in truth, since you’re the lord of the manor. But Anselm and Benedict are over there at present to see what may be saved. Speaking of possessions, I have something for you.”

A gift? The last thing he expected at such a time. But who was sending him gifts?

“The cache of coin? It’s been saved?” It would certainly be a help if it had. If he was to become a married man soon, he wanted his wife to have every comfort.

But when Cecily held up the miniature portrait of Hannah for him to see, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What is this? How does it come about that you have Hannah’s picture?”

“You used it to buy your way out of that cell that Master Clark put you in. The constable, fearing mayhap to get into trouble, returned it to me yesterday afternoon. He must be worried Master Clark will talk freely before the magistrates in hopes of winning himself some leniency. Master Wright clearly doesn’t want wrongful arrest and the taking of bribes tainting his name, so he’s been returning his spoils to their rightful owners. Or so I imagine.”

Allan couldn’t hold the precious jewel or even touch it. But the object mattered less than it used to. The person was gone, a treasured memory. Now he had Cecily, with whom new memories would be made. The sooner they could be wed, the better.

But fear still clouded his hopes. “If Kennett is out for mercy, he’ll say whatever he can to gain his ends. He may once again repeat that story about you and your uncles being closet Catholics and traitors. I can protect you, but I worry about the men. The only genuinely safe place they can go is beyond these shores—think you that they are ready to quit the country?”

Cecily laid Hannah’s miniature on the chest beside his bed and snuggled back into his embrace.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with them. You must get better—there’s naught you can do for now. Master Swaffham is on the manor today, making sure all is done as it should be, so that you may rest and recover.”

It wasn’t in his nature to do such a thing, but when she tilted her face up to meet his eyes, he saw the ardent appeal in them.

“So,” he said softly. “You intend to overrule me in this. But I’m stronger than you might imagine. I cannot keep to my bed and I don’t wish to. Unless, of course, you are in it with me.”

He enjoyed the flush that stole over her cheeks but held back from kissing her. That would be too much of a distraction when there were still urgent matters to consider.

“The men must move in here—all three of them. It is easier for me to protect them if they’re all together. If the world knows that we are all soon to be family, no one will question if I choose to move everyone into my own dwelling. This place is too vast for one man, in any case.”

“What do you mean, ‘the world knows’?” The flush had intensified. She was thinking of the night before last. As was he.

“I was not so traumatized that I failed to notice you throwing yourself at me when I escaped and covering my face with kisses. The entire village witnessed the spectacle. Our night of unparalleled joy is now a matter of common knowledge.”

He kissed her frown. “Don’t be shy. Unless you have some discarded sweethearts amongst the village lads, I have no doubt that everyone will be glad for us. And doubtless, they will look to you to reform me, and mold me into becoming the best lord of the manor the village has ever known.”

Before she could respond, a door banged below, and the next moment, he heard footsteps speeding up the stairs. He unwillingly relinquished Cecily, who scurried over and settled herself in his cross-framed chair. She was the picture of innocent concern when he called “Enter!” and Benedict came into the room.

“Master—you’re awake. Feeling better, I trust?”

“Aye—I thank you.