Read Online Archangel by Kathryn Le Veque - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
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sight of Lacy lying next to her and Orin’s big grin, missing two front teeth. She couldn’t help but smile weakly, reaching out a battered hand to touch Orin’s cheek and realizing there was something smeared all over it. She blinked to clear her vision, looking at the green mess on her hands.
“What is this?” she asked weakly.
Gart stood over her, big hands on his hips as he gazed down at her. “Medicine,” he said. “Your sons were eager to help.”
Her dark blue eyes twinkled faintly at him. “They are not such bad boys after all.”
Gart smiled. “Nay, they are not,” he agreed. “In fact, they are very helpful.”
She returned his smile, prevented by speaking when Lacy suddenly sat up and put her arms around her mother’s bruised neck. Emberley groaned as the little girl hugged her and kissed her cheek with sloppy baby kisses. Gart instinctively moved to lift the little girl up so she wouldn’t hurt her mother, but just as quickly he stopped himself, unsure what to do. Emberley looked up and saw his indecision, and her smile broadened.
“You have not yet met the Lady de Lacy Isadora de Moyon,” she said. “My husband named her for his good friend, Walter de Lacy. She is not yet two years of age and you must be careful that you do not let her too close to you; she will hug you and kiss you until you pull her away.”
Gart watched the little girl smother her mother in kisses, feeling those odd warm feelings swamping him again. In pain and injured, Emberley hugged her baby and let the girl deliver slobbery kisses. It was sweet and touching. Then he looked at Romney, the oldest, stoically putting green slime on his mother’s injured ear while Orin and Brendt put it on the knuckles of her left hand. It tugged at his heart to watch these children, trying so hard to be brave and help their injured mother, strong and intelligent sons of a bastard who did not deserve them. It both deeply touched him and deeply angered him. Something inside him, deep down, was starting to transform.
He couldn’t put his finger on what kind of transformation, but it was something he’d never felt before. He began to suspect it was jealousy but he largely ignored it, unsure how to handle it and not wanting to devote time and energy to it. He was jealous of what Buckland had. As he watched Emberley and the children, he realized it was more than simply taking Erik’s place as an uncle and protector. He wanted this family for himself.
Someone pounded sharply on the chamber door, jolting him from his muddy thoughts. The children froze, terrified, and Emberley looked fearfully to the bolted panel. They could hear Julian yelling on the other side.
“Open this door!” he shouted. “Open it, I say!”
The children looked to Gart, terrified, as he put a calm finger to his lips to indicate silence. He was controlled, which helped the children in their reactions. His influence was calming. Motioning to Romney, he pulled the boy off the bed and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“You will open the door,” he murmured. “I will hide. Do not tell your father I am here; is that clear?”
Romney nodded solemnly. “I will not,” he whispered, turning sternly to the family on the bed. “No one tell Father that Sir Gart is here!”
As Orin and Brendt nodded fearfully, Gart patted Romney’s head. “Good lad,” he hissed. “Go and open the door.”
Romney’s big and anxious eyes were on Gart as he moved for the door. Gart, however, remained composed as he moved to stand next to the door as he had done earlier when the children had entered the room. He was such a big man that there was no other place for him to hide. He had to put himself behind the door when it opened and pray that was enough. As long as the door remained open, he had a chance.
He flattened himself against the wall as Romney put his hand on the latch. Gart nodded confidently to Romney and the boy unbolted the door and opened
“What is this?” she asked weakly.
Gart stood over her, big hands on his hips as he gazed down at her. “Medicine,” he said. “Your sons were eager to help.”
Her dark blue eyes twinkled faintly at him. “They are not such bad boys after all.”
Gart smiled. “Nay, they are not,” he agreed. “In fact, they are very helpful.”
She returned his smile, prevented by speaking when Lacy suddenly sat up and put her arms around her mother’s bruised neck. Emberley groaned as the little girl hugged her and kissed her cheek with sloppy baby kisses. Gart instinctively moved to lift the little girl up so she wouldn’t hurt her mother, but just as quickly he stopped himself, unsure what to do. Emberley looked up and saw his indecision, and her smile broadened.
“You have not yet met the Lady de Lacy Isadora de Moyon,” she said. “My husband named her for his good friend, Walter de Lacy. She is not yet two years of age and you must be careful that you do not let her too close to you; she will hug you and kiss you until you pull her away.”
Gart watched the little girl smother her mother in kisses, feeling those odd warm feelings swamping him again. In pain and injured, Emberley hugged her baby and let the girl deliver slobbery kisses. It was sweet and touching. Then he looked at Romney, the oldest, stoically putting green slime on his mother’s injured ear while Orin and Brendt put it on the knuckles of her left hand. It tugged at his heart to watch these children, trying so hard to be brave and help their injured mother, strong and intelligent sons of a bastard who did not deserve them. It both deeply touched him and deeply angered him. Something inside him, deep down, was starting to transform.
He couldn’t put his finger on what kind of transformation, but it was something he’d never felt before. He began to suspect it was jealousy but he largely ignored it, unsure how to handle it and not wanting to devote time and energy to it. He was jealous of what Buckland had. As he watched Emberley and the children, he realized it was more than simply taking Erik’s place as an uncle and protector. He wanted this family for himself.
Someone pounded sharply on the chamber door, jolting him from his muddy thoughts. The children froze, terrified, and Emberley looked fearfully to the bolted panel. They could hear Julian yelling on the other side.
“Open this door!” he shouted. “Open it, I say!”
The children looked to Gart, terrified, as he put a calm finger to his lips to indicate silence. He was controlled, which helped the children in their reactions. His influence was calming. Motioning to Romney, he pulled the boy off the bed and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“You will open the door,” he murmured. “I will hide. Do not tell your father I am here; is that clear?”
Romney nodded solemnly. “I will not,” he whispered, turning sternly to the family on the bed. “No one tell Father that Sir Gart is here!”
As Orin and Brendt nodded fearfully, Gart patted Romney’s head. “Good lad,” he hissed. “Go and open the door.”
Romney’s big and anxious eyes were on Gart as he moved for the door. Gart, however, remained composed as he moved to stand next to the door as he had done earlier when the children had entered the room. He was such a big man that there was no other place for him to hide. He had to put himself behind the door when it opened and pray that was enough. As long as the door remained open, he had a chance.
He flattened himself against the wall as Romney put his hand on the latch. Gart nodded confidently to Romney and the boy unbolted the door and opened
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