The Conquest Read Free Page B

“Indeed, the craftsmanship is exceptional.”
    “Perhaps one day we shall both have fiefs as fine as this one.”
    Laird MacKay, obviously pleased by Jorden’s compliment, genuinely smiled for the first time since Adelstan and his men had arrived. Jorden was a master at charming anyone, both men and women. His silver tongue had gotten them out of more than one scrape. Adelstan’s foot soldiers broke away, led by Jorden, who sat at one of the lower tables near the high dais.
    When the day came that Adelstan was awarded his own fief, Jorden would be his trusted sergeant-at-arms, and he would take his place at the high table, too.
    On the dais, Laird MacKay took a seat in a large chair, and directed Adelstan to take the seat to his right. A woman with long auburn hair approached the table, staring at Adelstan with obvious interest.
    Adelstan tried to hide his surprise. Surely this could not be Rhiannon? The woman had to be at least Adelstan’s age, and he was just shy of his thirtieth year.
    “Sergeant, please meet my wife, Lady MacKay.”
    Adelstan nodded. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady MacKay.”
    She sat and lifted a jewel-encrusted goblet to her lips, watching Adelstan all the while. Either the woman hid her age well, or she was not Rhiannon’s birth mother.
    Laird MacKay lifted a brow, and placed a hand on his wife’s thigh.
    Lady MacKay set the goblet down, leaned toward her husband, and whispered something in his ear, her large breasts pressing against his beefy arm.
    Adelstan turned his attention away from the couple to the doorway, wondering where Lady Rhiannon was, and if she was going to make an appearance tonight. A sense of foreboding filled the air, making him unsettled.
    A servant approached with warm water. Adelstan glanced at the woman, whose cheeks were flushed a soft pink and grew a shade darker the longer he stared. She gently washed the dirt from his hands, her fingers gentle, taking her time. He guessed her to be younger than himself. Wearing her dark hair up in a tidy bun, she had rough hands that bespoke a life of hard work, the nails cut to the quick, her palms deeply callused.
    In recent years he had gained a greater appreciation for servants and the long, arduous tasks they performed each day. Having been born to Saxon royalty and thereby brought up in a wealthy household, Adelstan had taken those hard working individuals for granted, until his life had changed so drastically as a young man when King William had stripped his family of their lands and titles.
    The woman patted his hands dry, taking far longer than necessary, but he did not mind. In fact, he yearned to ask her to meet him later, to ease the ache in his loins, but would not do so in front of his guest. “Thank you,” he said, and she glanced up, her dark gaze falling away almost immediately, but not before he recognized the desire there.
    “Forgive my daughter for her tardiness,” Laird MacKay said, lifting a handsomely engraved goblet to his lips and taking a long drink. “I am certain it stems from her nervousness at meeting ye, or rather, at meeting her betrothed.”
    “That, or she is out swimming again,” Lady MacKay said, her tone full of exasperation.
    A young boy approached the dais steps, and instantly Adelstan recognized Laird MacKay’s beefy features and Lady MacKay’s eyes. The lad slid into the seat beside his mother, sighed heavily, and immediately started tapping his nails on the table.
    Adelstan was surprised when both father and mother ignored him, doing nothing to reprimand the boy.
    “Father, forgive me for having arrived late.”
    Adelstan looked up at a young woman with blue, or rather violet, eyes—and his insides coiled. Sweet Jesus, but Rhiannon MacKay was an alluring, exotic creature with long, silky brown hair that fell down her back in thick, soft waves. She wore a kirtle of pale blue linen, which molded nicely to her full, firm breasts and slender waist, and a simple leather