Lord of the Manor (Trysts and Treachery Book 5) Elizabeth Keysian (pocket ebook reader txt) 📖

mind for you. I only asked to share a pitcher of ale with you. This tavern is no bawdy house, so why are you so unwilling?”

Fear trickled down her spine. There was something she didn’t like about this man, something more than the fact that he was taking liberties.

She endeavored to be polite. “I thank you for your kind offer, sir, but my time at the market is done, and I must be getting home.”

“To whom do you hurry home?” Clark chuckled. “From what I hear, there’s naught to greet you there save a group of middle-aged uncles. I can’t believe there is anyone back in the village of greater interest or importance than me.” His grip tightened. “Unless it is that peregrine you want to go back to. Why should a peasant wench own a noble bird such as that?”

She tugged at his hand, but his grasp tightened still further. The bones of her wrist had started to creak. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed their tussle, but no one appeared to be looking their way. Would assistance arrive if she screamed? Would anyone champion her against so important-looking a fellow?

“I found him, sir, unkempt and thin. I fed him up and taught him to hunt again. I did not steal him—if that’s what you’re implying.”

He cocked an arrogant eyebrow at her. “How interesting. Now come within, so we may discuss terms. I can offer you a fair price for your bird. And for your company.”

“Nay!” She wrenched at her wrist, but he didn’t release her. The pain brought tears to her eyes.

“If you would let the lady go, Kennett, I would be much obliged.”

Cecily gasped as she recognized the tall frame of Allan Smythe, standing right beside her attacker. His voice was hard and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Hah! I knew there was something between the pair of you. Only you are too holier-than-thou to admit it, Allan. You can’t blame a fellow for trying after you said you weren’t interested.”

He’d said that? When had these two knaves been having a conversation about her? She didn’t know if she should be offended or furious.

“I said, let her go.” Smythe was a head taller than his business partner, and even without the puffed sleeves and padded doublet of Master Clark, he was much broader in the chest and shoulders. She didn’t fancy Clark’s chances if it came to blows.

Her captor’s mocking grin had faded. “Since when do you command me, Brother-in-law? We are equals, you and I, and partners. Don’t tell me we’re going to fall out over a worthless peasant?”

Smythe’s fist moved so fast that all she saw was a blur. But the next instant, Clark was lying on the cobbles with a bloodied nose, and Smythe was licking his knuckles.

The blow had had the desired effect. She was now free, and hitching her basket over her arm, she rubbed at her sore wrist and stared at her unlikely rescuer.

“Did he hurt you?” Smythe took her gently by the shoulders and leaned in close.

“A little.”

“Never mind her. What about me, you villain?” Clark had scrambled to his feet and now faced Smythe, his knees bent, his hands curled into fists. “You may have broken my nose!”

“Forgive me. I struck harder than I meant to.” Smythe’s white-hot fury had dissolved, to be replaced by a look of contrition. He released Cecily and held a hand out to Clark, but it was slapped irritably away.

She was aware that several of the market-goers had noticed the altercation and were gathering around to watch the proceedings. She was also aware that Smythe had put a protective arm around her waist. Her breath started coming quick and shallow.

“You think an apology is enough?”

Master Clark was not, fortunately, wearing a sword. If he had been, he looked angry enough to run Smythe through. She had never seen a man so furious that spittle wet the corners of his mouth. Smythe remained still, keeping his body between Cecily and the man who’d accosted her.

He sucked in a breath. “Do you wish to dispute with me in front of the entire population of Bulforde? Let us walk home, Brother, so your temper can cool, and we can mend matters between us.”

“Nay.” Clark spat at the hand that was extended to him again. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to get out of our foolish bargain and free myself from the shackles of a failing enterprise. Your assault on me has proved what your opinion is of me. I have no intention of putting any more of my coin into that accursed commandery. Indeed, I have every intention of going to the law and seeking the return of my investment.”

“Kennett, you’re not yourself. I must have sent your wits begging with that blow. As I said, it came much harder than I meant it to. I don’t know my own strength.”

There was a murmur of approval from the onlookers. Cecily pulled her straw hat down to hide her face and wished she could just melt into the cobbles. She had never expected her rejection of Master Clark’s advances to turn into a public spectacle.

“There are many witnesses to the power of that blow. Yet, I had not laid a finger on you, Allan. If you want to jeopardize all we have worked for, for the sake of a skinny peasant girl, then more fool you. I’ll have none of it. And don’t expect to see me at the commandery. I won’t set foot there until our dispute is resolved.”

With that parting blow, Master Clark stomped back into the inn. Cecily heard one of the onlookers whistle between his teeth. Smythe’s head snapped up, and he glared at the crowd. Gradually, one by one, the people nodded and went about their affairs.

He reached for her empty basket. The comforting, unsettling arm around her waist was gone. With the removal of that contact, her common sense returned. “Best not, sir, or there will be talk.