Читать книгу Sheltered by the Warrior - Barbara Phinney - Страница 3

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“So, tell me, how did you end up in Dunmow, as guest of my friend Lord Adrien?”

Rowena remained stiff. Finally, she said, “I was not his guest, milord.”

Then, from within the hut, a babe cried loudly. Lifting the damp hem of her cyrtel, Rowena swung past him, and Stephen reached forward to open the door for her.

She flinched at his raised arm. Rowena was scared. Hurt, also, but mostly frightened. Stephen stepped aside as she ducked into the hut.

Wandering from the door, Stephen looked again at the vandal’s work. The cur had crushed an egg, had laid waste to late season herbs and had trampled the roots under his boots. Saxon boots. The simple style was unmistakable.

Why would a Saxon destroy this young woman’s food stocks? Because she was rumored to have allied herself with the Normans? It had been two years since William’s victory at Hastings. This Rowena would have been barely into womanhood back then.

The door behind him opened again. Stephen turned to watch Rowena step outside with a babe in her arms.

The babe had dark hair and olive skin—the father could not possibly be Saxon.

His heart sank. So that was how she was aligned with the Normans.

Sheltered by the Warrior

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