Read Online Archangel by Kathryn Le Veque - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
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it. Julian was in the process of pounding again when the panel jerked open and Romney stood in the doorway.
He scowled at his son. “Why did you lock the door, boy?”
He didn’t give Romney a chance to answer before he pushed into the cluttered chamber, his gaze falling on the mussed bed where Emberley and his other three children were. He didn’t seem to notice their fearful expressions but if he did, he didn’t care. His countenance was unrepentant as he stood over the bed, inspecting Emberley as she lay wounded. He looked her over and finally shook his head.
“I hope you have learned your lesson this time,” he told her. “Were you not disobedient, I would not have to punish you.”
Emberley would not look at him; she clutched Lacy up against her, knowing Julian wouldn’t try to hurt her with the baby in her arms. Julian could beat her from morning to night but, strangely, he wouldn’t touch the children. Still, the tension in the room was palpable and the small family tensed, waiting for Julian to take notice of the enormous knight hiding behind the door panel and terrified of the consequences.
“Aye, Julian,” she replied softly. “I understand.”
Julian just stood there, eyeing her; he was finely dressed for his trip, wearing his standard colors of dark green, white and gray. When he seemed satisfied that his wife was adequately wounded from his thrashing, he began to pull on his fine leather gloves.
“I am leaving for London this morning,” he told her. “The Queen’s requirements may keep me in London for quite some time, so I do not know when I will return. It could be months.”
“ Bon voyage , Julian,” Emberley murmured.
He paused, irritated, still clutching one of his gloves in his hand. “Is that all you will say?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling the familiar fear at his tone. “We will look forward to your return, my lord.”
That seemed to satisfy him. The man had no use for her but he wanted to feel appreciated and wanted, as if she was completely dependent upon him and longed for his return. The wrong words would result in another thrashing and Emberley was in no condition to receive another beating. She had to make him feel as if they loved him if there was any hope of her survival.
Julian lingered, eyeing her and the children, before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. Romney was standing there, holding it open for his father, and Julian paused in front of the boy, gazing down into his sweet little face.
“Perhaps I shall take you to London with me someday,” he put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It is time you are introduced to Court. While I am there, I shall also make arrangements for you to foster. The time has come.”
Romney looked up at him innocently, leaning back against the door and sandwiching Gart between the heavy oak panel and the wall.
“Aye, Papa,” he said.
That was as far as Julian could go in showing his son attention. He went to put on his second glove but it fell from his hands, slipping on the floor and falling partially behind the panel. Emberley, watching the exchange between Julian and Romney, was seized with terror as Julian bent over to pick it up. It was very close to Gart’s boot, the toe of which she could see a couple of inches from the glove in the shadow of the open door. But Romney was fast and he picked up the glove and handed it to his father before the man could make a reasonable effort.
“Here, Papa,” he pushed the glove at the man. “Will it take you a long time to get to London?”
Sharp even at his young age, Romney was trying to divert his father’s attention and get him out the door. The situation was becoming too uncomfortable for the young man and he knew what his father was capable of. He wasn’t fearful for Gart as much as he was fearful for his mother. But Julian didn’t know his son very well. He’d spent the majority of the boy’s life ignoring him
He scowled at his son. “Why did you lock the door, boy?”
He didn’t give Romney a chance to answer before he pushed into the cluttered chamber, his gaze falling on the mussed bed where Emberley and his other three children were. He didn’t seem to notice their fearful expressions but if he did, he didn’t care. His countenance was unrepentant as he stood over the bed, inspecting Emberley as she lay wounded. He looked her over and finally shook his head.
“I hope you have learned your lesson this time,” he told her. “Were you not disobedient, I would not have to punish you.”
Emberley would not look at him; she clutched Lacy up against her, knowing Julian wouldn’t try to hurt her with the baby in her arms. Julian could beat her from morning to night but, strangely, he wouldn’t touch the children. Still, the tension in the room was palpable and the small family tensed, waiting for Julian to take notice of the enormous knight hiding behind the door panel and terrified of the consequences.
“Aye, Julian,” she replied softly. “I understand.”
Julian just stood there, eyeing her; he was finely dressed for his trip, wearing his standard colors of dark green, white and gray. When he seemed satisfied that his wife was adequately wounded from his thrashing, he began to pull on his fine leather gloves.
“I am leaving for London this morning,” he told her. “The Queen’s requirements may keep me in London for quite some time, so I do not know when I will return. It could be months.”
“ Bon voyage , Julian,” Emberley murmured.
He paused, irritated, still clutching one of his gloves in his hand. “Is that all you will say?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling the familiar fear at his tone. “We will look forward to your return, my lord.”
That seemed to satisfy him. The man had no use for her but he wanted to feel appreciated and wanted, as if she was completely dependent upon him and longed for his return. The wrong words would result in another thrashing and Emberley was in no condition to receive another beating. She had to make him feel as if they loved him if there was any hope of her survival.
Julian lingered, eyeing her and the children, before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. Romney was standing there, holding it open for his father, and Julian paused in front of the boy, gazing down into his sweet little face.
“Perhaps I shall take you to London with me someday,” he put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It is time you are introduced to Court. While I am there, I shall also make arrangements for you to foster. The time has come.”
Romney looked up at him innocently, leaning back against the door and sandwiching Gart between the heavy oak panel and the wall.
“Aye, Papa,” he said.
That was as far as Julian could go in showing his son attention. He went to put on his second glove but it fell from his hands, slipping on the floor and falling partially behind the panel. Emberley, watching the exchange between Julian and Romney, was seized with terror as Julian bent over to pick it up. It was very close to Gart’s boot, the toe of which she could see a couple of inches from the glove in the shadow of the open door. But Romney was fast and he picked up the glove and handed it to his father before the man could make a reasonable effort.
“Here, Papa,” he pushed the glove at the man. “Will it take you a long time to get to London?”
Sharp even at his young age, Romney was trying to divert his father’s attention and get him out the door. The situation was becoming too uncomfortable for the young man and he knew what his father was capable of. He wasn’t fearful for Gart as much as he was fearful for his mother. But Julian didn’t know his son very well. He’d spent the majority of the boy’s life ignoring him
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