Read Online A Bit of Heaven on Earth by Lauren Linwood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lauren Linwood
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a few scattered men were here and there, bringing in animals for the night.
One man passed close enough and looked at him oddly, probably due to his unkempt appearance. The scraggly beard and knotted hair, along with clothes that were nearly rags, would frighten off anyone. Gavin hoped he would be recognized despite his disheveled appearance once he arrived home. He imagined trying to convince a new gatekeeper that he was the son of Ashgrove’s lord. The thought caused him to chuckle.
As he approached the castle, excitement replaced trepidation. His heart beat rapidly. Butterflies swarmed his stomach. He could barely swallow, so dry was his mouth. Homer seemed to sense his emotions and began to purr loudly, seeking to give him comfort.
At the gates, Gavin signaled to the men on duty and shouted at them, “’Tis I, Lord Gavin, come home from the wars in France. Open up.”
Nothing happened. Surely the watchmen had heard him?
He tried again, raising his voice in case it had been lost in the wind. “I say, open these gates. ‘Tis Lord Gavin. I know you surely recognize my voice if not my face.”
He watched as the two guards conferred. One disappeared. Gavin saw him seconds later when the gates opened slightly. He rushed over as the man stepped outside to greet him. The guard’s eyes were wary, but he spoke to him all the same.
“’Tis good to see you alive, my lord.”
He laughed and slapped the man on the back. “’Tis even better to be home. I know ‘tis late, but please send a runner to awaken my mother. I would see her first and then speak with my father.”
He started to walk toward the gate, but the guard stepped back, blocking his entrance. “You . . . you don’t know?” The man began muttering and then turned quick as lightning, slipping through the gate.
Gavin reacted immediately and raced the few steps as the opening began to vanish. “What’s gotten into you, man? You can’t keep me from my own home.”
He pushed with all his remaining strength and forced the gate open. The guard pulled his sword and made an effort to stop him, but Gavin quickly grabbed the man’s wrist and wrenched the blade from his hands.
“Out of my way!” he roared. He would go to his father instead. This mess must be sorted out at once.
He crossed through the outer and inner baileys. No one followed him. All was quiet. He ran up the stairs, his heart hammering, unanswered questions filling his head. Silence blanketed the castle. He passed the Great Hall and saw a few servants bedded down by the fire, their bodies still in sleep. He finally passed one servant on the stairs. His face held what could only be described as a look of shock the moment he recognized Gavin. The man turned and raced back up the stairs and down the hallway. He assumed the servant went to awaken Berwyn.
He steeled himself for whatever showdown lay ahead. For a reason he didn’t understand, he placed the sword against the wall when he reached the solar’s door. He decided against knocking and threw open the door.
Firelight bathed the room in a golden glow. His father stood in a robe, his back to the fire, his own sword drawn. The curtains were pulled from the bed. Gavin saw a young woman peering out. Berwyn’s women seemed to get younger each time. Gavin felt sorry for this girl and for his mother. He understood, though. Men had their needs. Gillian was very spiritual. He doubted his parents’ relationship had remained physical for very long, especially since he lacked siblings.
He held his hands out, palms up. “I come unarmed, Father.” He took a step forward and watched Berwyn raise his sword, its tip pointed at Gavin’s heart.
“What the Devil gives?” he demanded, his temper rising. “I almost died at the hands of those French bastards. Why did you not help me? Why do you stand there as if I am your sworn enemy? What’s wrong, Father?”
“Leave at once,” Berwyn said, his eyes full of hate. “You are no longer welcome
One man passed close enough and looked at him oddly, probably due to his unkempt appearance. The scraggly beard and knotted hair, along with clothes that were nearly rags, would frighten off anyone. Gavin hoped he would be recognized despite his disheveled appearance once he arrived home. He imagined trying to convince a new gatekeeper that he was the son of Ashgrove’s lord. The thought caused him to chuckle.
As he approached the castle, excitement replaced trepidation. His heart beat rapidly. Butterflies swarmed his stomach. He could barely swallow, so dry was his mouth. Homer seemed to sense his emotions and began to purr loudly, seeking to give him comfort.
At the gates, Gavin signaled to the men on duty and shouted at them, “’Tis I, Lord Gavin, come home from the wars in France. Open up.”
Nothing happened. Surely the watchmen had heard him?
He tried again, raising his voice in case it had been lost in the wind. “I say, open these gates. ‘Tis Lord Gavin. I know you surely recognize my voice if not my face.”
He watched as the two guards conferred. One disappeared. Gavin saw him seconds later when the gates opened slightly. He rushed over as the man stepped outside to greet him. The guard’s eyes were wary, but he spoke to him all the same.
“’Tis good to see you alive, my lord.”
He laughed and slapped the man on the back. “’Tis even better to be home. I know ‘tis late, but please send a runner to awaken my mother. I would see her first and then speak with my father.”
He started to walk toward the gate, but the guard stepped back, blocking his entrance. “You . . . you don’t know?” The man began muttering and then turned quick as lightning, slipping through the gate.
Gavin reacted immediately and raced the few steps as the opening began to vanish. “What’s gotten into you, man? You can’t keep me from my own home.”
He pushed with all his remaining strength and forced the gate open. The guard pulled his sword and made an effort to stop him, but Gavin quickly grabbed the man’s wrist and wrenched the blade from his hands.
“Out of my way!” he roared. He would go to his father instead. This mess must be sorted out at once.
He crossed through the outer and inner baileys. No one followed him. All was quiet. He ran up the stairs, his heart hammering, unanswered questions filling his head. Silence blanketed the castle. He passed the Great Hall and saw a few servants bedded down by the fire, their bodies still in sleep. He finally passed one servant on the stairs. His face held what could only be described as a look of shock the moment he recognized Gavin. The man turned and raced back up the stairs and down the hallway. He assumed the servant went to awaken Berwyn.
He steeled himself for whatever showdown lay ahead. For a reason he didn’t understand, he placed the sword against the wall when he reached the solar’s door. He decided against knocking and threw open the door.
Firelight bathed the room in a golden glow. His father stood in a robe, his back to the fire, his own sword drawn. The curtains were pulled from the bed. Gavin saw a young woman peering out. Berwyn’s women seemed to get younger each time. Gavin felt sorry for this girl and for his mother. He understood, though. Men had their needs. Gillian was very spiritual. He doubted his parents’ relationship had remained physical for very long, especially since he lacked siblings.
He held his hands out, palms up. “I come unarmed, Father.” He took a step forward and watched Berwyn raise his sword, its tip pointed at Gavin’s heart.
“What the Devil gives?” he demanded, his temper rising. “I almost died at the hands of those French bastards. Why did you not help me? Why do you stand there as if I am your sworn enemy? What’s wrong, Father?”
“Leave at once,” Berwyn said, his eyes full of hate. “You are no longer welcome
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