Falcon's Honor. Denise Lynn
Hawise finally managed to stop cackling long enough to ask, “What be wrong, little lady? Swallow your tongue?”
Rhian tried to think of a way to make the older woman see the absurdity of the situation. But she could find no excuse that would keep her identity safe from discovery.
Hawise frowned at her in a way that made Rhian nervous. The woman seemed to look through the coarse gown and snarled hair, to Rhian’s soul. Finally, Hawise shook her head before handing Rhian a bowl of sweets. “Take these out to the hall, milady, and bring yourself right back here.”
Oh, heaven help her. Had the woman guessed so soon? “Hawise—” Rhian pleaded.
“Go. Do as I say.”
As Rhian turned to leave, Hawise added, “Right back here. No mincing in front of the men. Leave them for the others.”
Mincing in front of the men, indeed. Rhian looked over those gathered in the hall and curled her lip. There wasn’t a single man here who warranted any sort of attention from her. Mincing.
It would take more than a drunken sot to reduce her to that type of behavior. She approached the head table on the raised dais at the far end of the hall. Not even those seated in this place of honor captured her attention. Least of all the man in charge of the hall, who leaned so heavily on the table that his face was nearly in his food.
Certainly not the man situated to the right of the seat of honor. She wondered if he could see through eyes so red. Rhian gingerly stepped over the man she’d hit earlier and placed the bowl of sweets on the table.
Before she could beat a hasty retreat back to the kitchens, a hand grasped her wrist. “Ah, there you are, my lovely.”
She glared at the man holding her arm. “Let me go. I have work to attend to.”
He towered over her, easily pulling her closer. Close enough to feel the hardness between them. “Yes, my lovely, you do.” The man tightened his hold, grinding his growing manhood against her stomach.
“Sir, do nothing you might regret later.” Her legs shook, but she refused to let him see any fear.
“Regret?” He leaned down. His blue eyes were glazed by drink and a look she recognized as lust. Surely the drink he’d consumed blinded him.
“Oh, aye, regret and more.” Rhian blinked twice to make sure her sight did not deceive her.
Hawise nudged the young blond serving girl closer to the man. “Why would you want a scrawny girl like this?” The older woman nodded toward Rhian, before directing the drunken guest’s attention to the now flirting buxom blonde. “Not when this one here would be more than willing to serve your needs.”
Thankfully, the man’s gap-toothed smile was diverted to the other girl, giving Rhian a chance to pull free. She waited for no orders from Hawise before escaping back to the kitchens.
With Hawise fast on her trail. “I told you to return immediately. Can you not listen?” She dipped a ladle into the water bucket and handed it to Rhian.
“Thank you.” Rhian swallowed deeply, allowing the cool water to wash away the lump that had formed in her throat. “I tried to return. As you could see, I was detained.”
“And I saw that you did little to free yourself.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Kick him. Use your knee. How do you survive on your own?”
Rhian lifted her head. “I have survived quite well until now.”
“Aye. Under your father’s tender care.” Hawise leaned against a support beam before sinking down onto a low stool. “Do not speak lies, I am too old and tired for them. You are no more a servant than I am a lady.”
“You cannot be certain of that.” Rhian paused to weigh her words. She could not afford to give away too much. “It matters little. I will be gone soon.”
Hawise flapped a drying rag in the air and laughed. “Where will you go, child? A woman traveling alone is fair game for all manner of cutthroats and predators.”
“I will manage.” She’d managed so far these last few days. In a manner of speaking. To be honest, she’d happened on Browan Keep quite by accident. At the time it’d been a blessed sight. Now, Rhian wondered if it was more of a curse than blessing. “Perhaps one of the men out there needs another servant.”
Hawise laughed herself breathless. Finally, gasping for air and wiping the tears from her eyes, she asked, “Pray tell, how pleased do you think their womenfolk will be when the lord and master arrives home with a strange female in tow? Not just a female, but an unmarried one such as you?”
“Such as me?”
“Unmarried. Young. Unmarred by pockmarks or worry lines. Just the sight of your smooth face will send the women into fits.”
“What are you yammering about?” Rhian frowned. “I am filthy, ragged. I have nothing to call my own.” She tugged at the high neck of her faded yellow gown. The coarsely spun cotton had not seen a dye bath in more years than she could imagine. It hung on her like the sack it would soon become. “Even this is…borrowed. There is not a lady in the world who would envy me anything.”
Hawise rose and waved her hands in the air. “Girl, you are a fool, nothing but a young fool. I should wash my hands of you and be done with it.”
“Ale!” Shouts for drink echoed down the corridor connecting the kitchens and larder to the hall.
To escape Hawise’s senseless babbling, Rhian grabbed two ewers of ale in each hand, then again headed toward the great hall.
“We will finish this!” The older woman’s warning followed her down the corridor.
Finish it indeed. Rhian knew that Browan Keep would be far behind her by the full light of day. Hawise could finish her lecture alone.
Since many of the men had already fallen asleep in various spots along the floor, Rhian worried only a little about being pawed upon as she deposited the pitchers of ale on the tables. Quickly finishing her task, she turned back to the kitchens, then looked toward the entry chamber at the other end of the hall.
Here was a choice she could make. Return to Hawise’s infernal lecture. Or leave Browan now. The gates were unguarded, she’d not be stopped.
She wiped her suddenly damp palms on the skirt of her gown. She had little else but the clothes on her back. Rhian absently touched the ribbon about her neck. The only item of worth still in her possession hung from the makeshift chain.
The amethyst pendant had been sent to her upon her mother’s death a few short months past. An oddly shaped circle, with a crudely etched dragon in the center. Her breath hitched at the pain of a memory still too new, an ache still too raw and horror that still haunted her dreams.
It would be an easy task to leave the hall. None would notice her absence. Surely she could find the stables once outside. Perhaps if none of the stable lads were about, she could coax a horse to follow her out the gates.
Rhian tugged at her bottom lip. If the horse just followed her out of the stables and gates, would that be considered stealing? She knew the answer the instant the question formed. Yes. If caught, she could very well forfeit her life.
She took a deep breath and decided. A horse would require food she did not have. Instead of burdening herself with the added worry, she would walk. As long as she avoided the road and kept to the forest as she had before, it would be safer and quicker.
The decision made, she straightened her back and walked boldly between the tables toward the hall’s entrance—in her case, an exit.
As she drew closer, the sound of a commotion from beyond the great doors filtered through to the entryway. Rhian slowed her steps. If more men were coming in, she wished not to be caught up in the middle of their arrival. If she hurried, perhaps she could escape