Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] Read Free Page A

his mistress. A few minutes later he was back and saw that Elizabeth had changed into a blue gown, simple in design yet rich in texture, and of the exact color of her eyes.
    He accepted the bundle of herbs his mistress handed him and helped her into the saddle. He was having second thoughts about his rash plan, and his worry was not missed by his mistress. Elizabeth leaned down and gently patted his wrinkled hand. “Do not worry, Joseph. It is long past the time for action. All will be well.”
    As if to ensure that his mistress’s words would hold true, Joseph again crossed himself. He then mountedthe gelding he had borrowed from Herman the Bald, the assistant stable master, and led the way through the forest, his dagger drawn and ready in case of mischief along the way.
    In less than an hour’s time Elizabeth and Joseph reached the battle-damaged gates to the manor at the top of the winding road. Two burly guards stood back to allow them entrance, standing clear of the menacing wolfhounds that flanked Elizabeth’s horse. Surprise registered on their faces but they kept their silence, only grinning with raised eyebrows at each other when the group had safely passed.
    When the pair reached the inner bailey, Joseph was first to dismount and he quickly rushed to assist his mistress. He felt her tremble when she placed her hand in his, and knew that she was afraid. A surge of pride fairly overwhelmed him when he gazed into her eyes, for her outward appearance showed only a calm and composed exterior. “You do your father proud, my lady,” he whispered as he lifted her from the saddle. Aye, she had inherited her bravery from her father, Joseph knew, and he only wished that Thomas could see her now. For in truth, it was Joseph who was terrified of what was to come, and his gentle mistress was his calming tonic.
    The sounds of men at work had been loud and furious when they first entered the manor, but now an ominous silence descended, chilling in its intensity. A sea of foreign faces stared at her intently. Elizabeth stood next to her horse for a moment and then summoned all of her courage and, head held high, started to walk into the throng of watching men.
    Hadn’t Joseph said that there were barely two hundred of them? she wondered. Well, he was mistaken, she decided, for there were at least two times that number. And all of them were gaping! Their crude behavior didn’t intimidate Elizabeth. Pride straightened her shoulders, giving her a regal appearance. Thewind caught her hood and snatched it from her head, and the heavy mass of sun-lightened curls quickly accepted their freedom, falling in disarray about her shoulders.
    Elizabeth continued to walk with quiet dignity into the great hall, pausing only long enough to remove her cloak and hand it to the hovering Joseph. She noticed that he clutched her bundle of medicines in a tight grip, for the veins in his hands seemed to bulge from the pressure, and she gave him a quick smile in an effort to relieve some of his anxiety.
    Outwardly oblivious to the men’s frank appraisals, and flanked by her loyal wolfhounds, Elizabeth turned and made her way to the great hearth at the far end of the hall. All were silent as she warmed her hands before the roaring fire. She wasn’t really cold, but used the time to compose herself before confronting her audience. When she could delay no longer, she turned and met the gazes staring at her. The dogs sat, one on either side of her.
    Slowly she scanned the room. Home was gone; the banner and tapestry hanging in shreds against the damp stone walls, a reminder that death had entered Mont-wright; no echoed laughter remained in Elizabeth’s memory, only screams and torment filled her soul. This was just a bare room now; she could not even picture her mother sitting next to her father at the long oaken table . . . no, only see again and again the raised sword swinging toward her mother’s neck . . .
    A cough stopped her thoughts. The heavy