Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms Read Free

Melville, whoever he was.
     

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
    Melville was tired and disappointed with this weather. Riding for three days towards a town which he had never heard of, to marry some wench that he imagined dirty and petulant, had not improved his mood. He swept his long dark hair out of his eyes as two of his men returned on horseback from a scouting trip on the area. Rain poured down his face, lining his jawline and causing his clothes to cling to his taut body.
    “Nothing to report, my lord.”
    A curt nod from Melville was enough to prevent the man from speaking any longer. He was not in a temper to hear someone rattle on about pastures and woodland – not until he’d dried off and changed into clean clothes. This country, England. He was sick of it. He had been here three years too long.
    Melville could feel his horse tiring underneath him, and patted his mane encouragingly. Melville’s strong body was highlighted by the rain dripping down along the leather chaps and onto the ground. His horse twitched unhappily, and Melville reached down to calm him.
    “Nearly there,” he murmured – but the platitude to his horse grated on his very soul. The horse could not understand why he was riding so hard and so fast towards a destiny that he did not want.
    But William was the King, and William must be obeyed. The vows a man took when he became a knight were until death, and obedience was not required, but expected. Melville had known that when he agreed to come across from Normandy, to go over to the land where the savages roamed, but he had not believed that he would remain there for very long. Now he had been given English land, and land needed heirs.
    A man near the front of the party hallooed, and Melville started from his reverie, enjoying the time spent with his own thoughts. Looking up, he saw a large manor house. He had arrived.
    A short balding man was waiting outside the building to greet him. As Melville pulled up and dismounted, the man came towards him.
    “Richard, at your service.”
    “Melville, at yours.”
    The two men briefly embraced, and then began to talk about the weather. Anything to pretend that they weren’t two men at a meeting, forced to be there against their will and better judgement. Richard looked over this youth. He was tall, and had clearly fought in many battles. You could tell by the way that he held himself that until he knew he was safe, he would never truly relax. Melville’s dark features gave him the appearance of distrust – but then, Richard thought, Normans did not expect trust in this foreign land.
    “Come inside. We have warmth, and food, and cheer.” Richard gave the offer with a watery smile, and Melville matched it with almost less enthusiasm. They walked into the Great Hall, their men and servants following them at a respectful distance.
    As Richard indicated where Melville was to sit, he called out, “bring in Avis.”
    Avis? thought Melville. It was a Norman name, but an uncommon one. Was Avis a servant girl? But the young lady that gracefully walked into the Great Hall was no servant girl. Her face was frightened, but determined, and it was obvious from her luxurious and tasteful clothes that she was a woman of high standing. A strange veil covered her hair in a manner that Melville had never seen before, but it was not unattractive. He wondered why she covered what was such a beautiful part of a woman, but was pulled back into the moment by Richard’s booming voice.
    “Avis!”
    The girl increased her speed, arriving at a brisk walk in front of Richard. He lowered his voice to speak to her, and she began replying with hurried tones, both of them glancing nervously at Melville. He began to feel uncomfortable, especially when her frosty eyes landed on him. Her frantic but quiet words were spoken in a manner devoid of panic – but her calm words were clearly not being well-received by his host.
    Avis could not believe that this man – this tall, dark man