Never Love a Lord Read Free

staring up wide-eyed at the castle. From within the embroidered coverlet, Lucy began to fuss, and Murrin bounced on the balls of her feet out of habit. “Shh, kitten. Shh.”
    Julian turned to his men. “Send the first runner with a message stating that I’ve begun negotiations. If you do not have word from me within one hour, send a second, fire the gate, and storm the castle.”
    “Julian—” Erik began.
    But Julian turned away from his friend and general, staring once more at the lofty battlements. The figure was gone. But now, all along the crenellations of Fallstowe, balls of light burst into existence as, one by one, torches were lit. In less than a minute, Fallstowe wore a fiery crown, and the hundreds of shadow figures that were her soldiers stood looking down on the king’s men.
    It was a dangerous situation, yes. And in that briefest moment, Julian considered ordering Murrin to stay behind in the carriage with Lucy. But once inside, Julian had no intention of leaving Fallstowe until he’d brought the lady to heel, and he would not be separated from his daughter in the interim.
    From what Julian had learned about the Foxe women, the heeling could take some time. Perhaps decades.
    “Come along, Murrin,” Julian said mildly, and began walking around the fore of the company toward Fallstowe’s drawbridge.
    “Directly behind you, milord,” the nursemaid chirped.
    The three stood on the road near the edge of the moat when the giant slab of wood began to lower with shuddering creaks. Once it had touched earth, Julian saw the flurry of activity within the bailey as the portcullis was raised. Scores of soldiers were falling into rank in two lines to either side of the barbican, forming an aisle of blade and armor through the bailey, up the steps of the keep, and through the open double doors. Red light from the torches bubbled together with shadows.
    “Fancy,” Murrin whispered.
    “Quite dramatic,” Julian agreed and then stepped onto the drawbridge.
    They walked the predetermined path silently and swiftly, but still did not gain the steps of the keep for several moments. During his march, Julian was silently counting the well-armed soldiers keeping watch over them, and mentally calculating the total with the number of men he had seen atop the castle itself.
    Julian came to the conclusion that Fallstowe had been more than ready for his arrival, and that troubled him. If it came down to a battle, it would not be a short one, and he’d seen enough bloodshed already in the Holy Land to last him three lifetimes.
    Only one more battle, though , he told himself as he stepped into the heart of the Foxe family’s lair. The doors shut firmly behind him, and Julian steeled himself not to turn around, even as he heard the thick beams set in place.
    A thin, gray wraith stood at the top of a set of stone stairs, his posture stiff and formal, his hands clasped behind his back as if in anticipation of Julian’s arrival. Julian noticed the old man’s brief and discreet glance at Murrin and Lucy.
    “Might I have the privilege of announcing His Lordship’s arrival to Madam?” the old man queried.
    Julian felt a faint smile come to his mouth again. “You must be Graves. Your reputation precedes you, even in lands abroad,” Julian offered with a tilt of his head. “Lord Julian Griffin for His Sovereign Majesty, King Edward, to see Lady Sybilla upon her most recent invitation. Also, my daughter, Lady Lucy Griffin.”
    Graves bowed, and Julian could detect neither approval nor scorn in the man’s expressionless face. Fallstowe’s steward was nearly a legend for his poor treatment of his betters.
    “Won’t you follow me, my lord?” Graves turned on his heel and made his way down the dark stairwell.
    The corridor emptied into a hall so large, Julian reckoned it was as grand as any in the king’s own home. The ceiling was high, dark, domed, supported by carved buttresses which wore skirts of balconies and catwalk