My Forever Love by Marsha Canham

Author:Marsha Canham [Marsha Canham]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance, England, Love Story, Romance, Medieval Romance, Knights Templar (Masonic Order)
ISBN: 0451211286
Google: RK6pAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0451211286
Barnesnoble: 0451211286
Goodreads: 891790
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2003-12-31T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Amaranth experienced several harrowing moments through the long, seemingly endless afternoon and evening. The first came the instant she set foot inside the gloomy vault of the great hall. The addition of Odo de Langois and the other five knights did little to alleviate the sense of emptiness, and she was certain all eyes in the room would turn to stare at her as she followed Roland down the stairs and along the length of the room. A step, two at the most, and she would hear the shout that would bring her husband raging toward her, his hand on the hilt of his sword, the promise of all black things in hell gleaming in his eyes.

To her surprise and infinite relief, not one single glance was squandered in her direction. At intervals as they walked toward the rear screen, Roland pretended to cuff her, as if she had been caught shirking her duties. But true to Marak’s prediction, no one gave a thought to a scruffy, ill-smelling stable boy. Even the rotund trio of women who were skewering hens and setting them to roast over the cooking fires did little more than grunt and point at the nearest spit that wanted turning.

From her vantage point at the rear of the hall— when she could see through the smoke—she had a clear view of the dais. Odo’s bright red hair stood out against the stone blocks that composed the wall behind him. He was eating, drinking, talking, laughing with Lord Tamberlane who, by contrast, sat quietly and observed, his smiles as scarce as snow in summer. Odo’s cousin, Sigurd the Oaf, ate with both hands, getting greasy to the wrists. He pinched the maids who brought fresh platters and drank with such gusto the ale splashed over the rim each time he slammed his tankard on the table.

By contrast, Rolf de Langois picked at morsels of food here and there with the point of his knife, trying to make it appear casual as he studied the faces of everyone in the hall.

Amaranth kept her head bowed whenever Rolf’s dark eyes roved the room. Odo was a brute with his contempt and his fists, but Rolf was sly, cunning, and dangerous. He had neatly twisted the story of his attempted rape to place the blame squarely on Amie’s shoulders, convincing Odo with his protestations and, at the same time, letting his gaze promise her he would finish what he started.

The rear of the long hall was where the lowest of the classes sat, the working men, the peasants, the almoners. The men who had accompanied de Langois into the keep sat above the salt but still much closer to where Amaranth worked over the spit than was comfortable. Once, when she looked up, two of them were nowhere to be seen. A moment later, her eye was caught by movement through the haze of smoke, and she saw them walking around the great hall, pausing here and there to exchange a word with someone seated at the board.

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