Patricia Ryan - [Fairfax Family 01] by Falcons Fire

Author:Falcons Fire
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Thorne, on horseback, watched from far up the road as the wedding procession approached the barony chapel, cheered on by an enormous crowd of villeins. First came the hired musicians strumming their lutes and pounding their Spanish drums, their multicolored costumes exceptionally bright under the harsh noon sun...

And then came Martine, seated sidesaddle on a gaily decorated mule led by her brother. At the church door, Rainulf lifted her down from her mount and presented her to Father Simon. Edmond, his family, and all of the knights and retainers of Harford followed and dismounted, but Thorne spared them not a glance; his gaze was riveted on the bride.

She looked like a goddess of the North in ermine-trimmed gold brocade, her hair plaited in two long braids interwoven with gold threads. A veil of tissue-thin sendal silk floated around her, secured by a jeweled coronet. She was regal, ethereal... and haunting.

It was her eyes that made her so, eyes glazed with a kind of dreamlike melancholy, as if she had been drained of all of life’s pleasures and had resigned herself to its woes.

It wasn’t until Edmond joined Martine on the church steps and took her hand in his that Thorne was able to wrest his gaze from her. With an angry yank on the reins, he swung his mount around and galloped full speed away from Harford.

He’d go to Hastings, that’s what he’d do. He’d go to Hastings and make himself forget.

* * *

The whores all brightened when Thorne walked into the brothel. Those without customers, and even a few with, swarmed to him like bees to sweet balm, taking his mantle, bringing him mead, and vying noisily for his patronage.

Fat Nan soon took matters in hand, grabbing girls by their hair and yanking them aside to clear a path for her formidable girth. “Back off, you squawking hens!” she berated them in English. “He’ll make his choice in due time. Let the man breathe!”

Smiling sweetly, she offered Thorne her plump hand, and he kissed it. “Haven’t seen you in some time, Sir Falconer,” she said. “And I must say I’m surprised you picked this afternoon to pay us a visit. Ain’t there a wedding at Harford Castle today?”

He drained his cup. “Weddings bore me.”

Nan locked her arm with his. “Well, we ain’t boring. Are we, girls?”

“Nay! Nay!” they chorused, crowding around again to offer their services.

Freckle-faced Tilda, whom Thorne had tupped once last summer and avoided since, called to him from the lap of her customer. “What about me, Sir Falconer? I got rid of them bugs.”

“I liked them bugs,” said the customer, one of the regulars, a red-faced wool boiler. “They made you frisky! For once you didn’t just lie there like a bag of turnips.”

Tilda looked bored. “Did you ever stop to wonder why a girl’s gotta have a crotchful of insects before you can get her to squirm?”

A black-haired girl trailed her fingers through Thorne’s hair. “This one just looks at me and I squirm!”

Thorne saw that his cup had been refilled, and he quickly drank it down.

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