Fruit of the Golden Vine by Sophia French

Author:Sophia French [French, Sophia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781594934599
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2016-03-28T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Orfeo’s manor was taller but narrower than Sebastian’s, three floors high rather than two. A well-swept flagstone path ran from the main road through a neat garden and to an impressive wooden front door flanked by apple trees. The sight of it left Silvana somehow uneasy.

“From the time I’ve spent with this man, I don’t like him,” Rafael said.

“I’m sure he’ll do whatever Sebastian tells him.”

Irena approached, adjusting her lace choker. “I wonder what you’re both whispering about. Are you excited to go riding with us, Mistress Silvana?”

“Naturally. It’s been a while since I’ve been on horseback.”

“Neither Ada nor I are very good riders, but Orfeo’s horses are gentle. Do you ride well?”

Silvana frowned. Ordinarily, Rafael consumed the entirety of Irena’s attention. “Everything that I do, I do well, Mistress Irena.”

“Call me Ira, please.” Irena peeked at Silvana’s hand. Had she spotted the matching rings? “I really do hope we grow close, you and I. That would please me a great deal.”

“I’m sure we’ll become fast friends.”

The front door opened, and Orfeo strode into the garden, his red hair flaming in the sun. “My guests! My cherished guests!” He lumbered to Sebastian and slapped him on the back. “Bastian, you old cad. You’ve brought an entire town with you.”

Sebastian clasped Orfeo’s forearm. “My daughters and guests would like to ride your horses through the meadows. What say you?”

“Anytime, anytime. You know that. And you’ve brought the little one, I see. Surely she’s not riding?”

“No, Lise is here to see your whelps. They are still around, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes. Just the right age for a little girl to play with too. Frisky and fun, but not so big as they’ll knock her over.” Orfeo squatted, his hands on his knees, and grinned at Felise. She hid behind Adelina, and Orfeo chuckled. “Ah, she’s afraid of me. I suppose it’s my stature.”

“No, it’s your face,” said Adelina.

Orfeo stood, sniggering, and gave Adelina an indulgent smile. “This middle daughter of yours, Bastian. I swear she’ll take over your business someday, laws be damned. She’s got your flint.” He swept his arms in an encompassing welcome. “I don’t have time to greet you all, so why don’t you all just come in? Come along, come along!”

The guests trooped into Orfeo’s manor. The lobby was immense, and equal parts dining room and drawing room. A large stone fireplace took up one wall, and tables and benches ran along the room’s length. Orfeo caught Silvana’s eye and winked. “An innkeeper has a predilection for open spaces and numerous tables,” he said. “I like to refer to this as my great hall. In the winter, with the fire going, my friends and I carouse here for hours.”

Silvana didn’t return Orfeo’s ingratiating smile. His unattractive appearance only made it harder to warm to him. He seemed to be in his late thirties, and though he was muscular, he already had the tell-tale signs of a life of overconsumption—broken veins in his cheeks and eyes, a paunch developing beneath his loose tunic.

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