MORIAH JOVAN

Grinning, Grimme clipped down the stairs and into the great hall and waited for all the women to gather. That, he thought, was the most rousing entertainment he’d had in a while. Grimme, get your arse out of bed! He laughed until he was bent over and started to cough. She’d kicked the door in! He straightened, met Brìghde’s somewhat sheepish expression and started to laugh again. She flushed, huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest, but would not look at him because she was trying not to laugh.

That girl was trouble, and he could not wait to see what she did next.

He inhaled, his chest expanding, then bellowed,

“IF I PAY YOUR WAGES, REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY!” Read more →

Breakfast was long over by the time Brìghde dragged herself out of the earl’s warm bed, the chamberlain nowhere in sight, went across the hall, divested herself of her coverlet and wedding dress, leaving her in her peasant boy’s clothes, pulled on a pair of her new sturdy slippers, then went down to the great hall, which was empty. She continued on down the stairs to the cellar kitchen for food. It was a relaxed chamber of household servants, cooks, and bakers eating and chatting. She cleared her throat, and was cast glances of contempt and suspicion.

“Who are ye an’ where’d ye come from an’ why’re ye dressed like a boy?”

Brìghde, knowing her hair was a mess, said, “New ’ere. Was told to come to the kitchen for a meal ’fore gettin’a work.” Read more →

Grimme was in a terribly good mood. No, Brìghde had not supped with him and so his welcome-home supper was a bit dampened by her absence, but he was so happy his father had taken to her so quickly and easily that he was jubilant anyway.

He made his way up to the third floor and walked into Emelisse’s chambers to find her in the bath, her maidservant washing her hair.

“Leave me,” she said in French.

“I have been gone three weeks,” Grimme said testily, immediately irritated. “Could you not be a little more welcoming?”

“After you brought home a wife?” she snapped. “When you should have married me?” Read more →

The journey from Fàileach to Hogarth, the biggest town closest to Kyneward, took another day, and Brìghde and Lord Kyneward chatted for most of it. He was witty and learned, even for a young man who had spent most of his life on a battlefield, as both his father and the ancient knight he had served as page and squire valued education. Further, Brìghde engaged his man-at-arms in conversation as well, drawing him out, learning of him. It was easier to rule a household when one knew who was in it.

Every night, the earl slept with her for reasons she did not know, but did not mind.

“I’m not going to run away,” she had said testily, although, she thought as he draped his bare arm over her waist, he did make a fine substitute for her dog.

“You’re warm.” Read more →

Grimme remained silent the entire next day, sunrise having made his panicked plan to abduct a bride look utterly foolish. He knew better than to panic and normally, panic was not something he felt. But this was not war; it was politics, about which Grimme knew little. He was a knight, a soldier, and a commander. He need not worry himself with anything but that his men functioned well together, and if they didn’t, to find out why and repair the situation.

The night before, all five of them had taken their meal in the taproom, Lady Brìghde happily eating and drinking all of them to shame. Of the inn’s proprietor, she had requested parchment, quill, ink, and sealing wax.

“Brìghde— By the bye, how in God’s name do you pronounce your name?”

“Bree-juh.”

“In English.”

“Oh. Bridget.” Read more →