Saxon Lady by Margo Maguire

Author:Margo Maguire [Maguire, Margo]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9781460854044
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2006-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Mathieu had no intention of relenting. The boy would rub down all the horses and feed them before he was allowed to eat and sleep. And he would do this every night until they reached London.

It came as no surprise when Aelia left her own meal to help him.

“Aelia.” He caught her arm and stopped her before she could move away from the small fire at the center of their camp.

“He’s too small to do such work,” she protested as he directed her back to her place.

It would have surprised Mathieu if Osric tried to run off again. The boy was foolish, but not stupid. He knew how close he’d come to death, and was unlikely to try such a stunt again.

Besides, the men had removed all the saddles before turning their horses over to his dubious care, and they were too heavy for him to lift.

“He’s going to fall.”

“Why? Has he never climbed onto a boulder before?” Mathieu knew his casual tone infuriated Aelia more than she already was.

“You are treating him cruelly.”

Mathieu looked ’round at his men. “What do you think? Am I a cruel master?”

“No, my lord.”

“’Tis no more than the boy deserves.”

“What do you think, Halig?” Mathieu asked.

The Saxon lad gave a furtive look toward Aelia, then replied quietly. “My father would whip me for what Osric did.”

Mathieu felt Aelia stiffen beside him, but he continued eating.

“Shall we set up tents tonight?” Gerrard asked Mathieu.

He intended to keep Aelia and Osric separated, but he would not allow Aelia to sleep in a tent alone. ’Twould be too easy for her to slip out under one of the canvas sides and cause some kind of mischief.

“No. We’ll sleep in the open.”

He dreaded the night when he would be compelled to set up tents. As long as they slept outside among the men, Mathieu would not be so tempted to touch Aelia, to kiss her mouth, to make love to her as his body had been demanding for days. But he could not leave her unattended in a tent. Someone would have to sleep with her.

He stood abruptly and left the circle.

Picking up his pack, he took out the wood-carving tools and the thick block of wood that he’d taken from Beorn’s widow. He kicked a heavy log close to the fire and sat down with his back against it, then lay the wood across his lap and started to carve. ’Twas the best distraction to keep from thinking of the nights he would likely have to spend with Aelia.

As the first Norman lord of Ingelwald, he had decided upon a mighty stag for the symbol of his house. He would carve a crest using this image of strength, speed and endurance, and present it to Lady Clarise when they wed, as a symbol of all that he was, of all that he possessed.

In the flickering firelight, he gave his full attention to his work, carving the shallow lines that would guide his hand when he made the deeper gouges in the wood.

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