Joining by Johanna Lindsey

Author:Johanna Lindsey [Johanna Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780380793334
Google: WibdVjCR1hsC
Amazon: B0049B1VV8
Barnesnoble: B0049B1VV8
Goodreads: 9630727
Publisher: Harper Collins
Published: 1999-10-27T13:00:00+00:00

Twenty-eight

The winter storm howling outside brought with it a marked chill inside the keep. Icy drafts gusted through the Great Hall and the stairwells, entering with each opening of the doors and through the arrow slits in each tower, which were difficult to cover completely. Heavy winter cloaks were worn indoors. More mead was drunk than usual to fight off the chill. And the crowd gathered before the Great Hearth was thrice the normal size.

That evening Lady Anne sent Milisant to her chamber to fetch an extra mantle, since it was too early for her to retire yet and seek the warmth of her bed. And those still in the hall were being entertained by an old Dane with stories from his homeland, so Anne was enjoying herself—except for the cold.

Milisant nearly suggested to the lady that she ought to wear leggings beneath her skirts as she did, but in the end she decided Anne would be shocked. But even more thickly dressed than most, Milisant still raced up the icy stairwell.

She had left Rhiska with Jhone near the fire in the hall, since the bird had been noticeably shivering a lot herself that evening. But Growls padded up the stairs right behind her, unaffected by the cold with his gray coat grown thick for the winter months.

She supposed she could blame the lighting, or lack of it—the torch at the top of the circular stairs had burned out, likely because of the draft—and her haste for her hard collision with the man who was just entering the stairwell from above.

She heard him grunt as they impacted. She heard Growls growl. She turned to quiet the wolf before she apologized, then thought better of it, at least until she knew who she had slammed into.

But the wolf quieted on his own, no doubt because he could smell the man now, and knew him not to be a threat. Would that Milisant felt the same.

But that was not the case at all when she felt those strong hands on her shoulders, steadying her, and heard Wulfric say, “Dare I hope that you followed me up here for a reason I might find to my liking?”

There was light farther down the corridor behind him, so he had had no trouble seeing who she was. The question that came to her mind, though, was how he had known it was she, rather than Jhone, to make a remark like that, when she and her sister had worn matching bliauts today.

However, she addressed his question first. “I am on an errand for your mother. But be assured that if I had seen you come up here—”

“If you say you would have run in the opposite direction, I may thrash you,” he interjected.

Milisant stiffened slightly. She had been about to say something of that sort. Now, instead, she remarked, “Now, why does that not surprise me overmuch?”

Wulfric sighed, very loudly, before he said, “That was a jest, wench.”

She refrained from snorting, just barely, said merely, “Was it?”

But she didn’t want an answer.

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