Born in Deception (Brides of Northumbria #1) - Cate Melville Page 0,2

grew amongst the trees in the orchard.

Sometime later, with her basket full, she walked back towards the only home she knew—a haven in a world where she was no longer safe.

Isabeau was in her small stillroom hanging the white goosefoot she had gathered earlier. Careful not to damage the unopened flower buds, she removed them from the stems and leaves. The flowers she would hang to dry, but the lush green leaves would be used to prepare a poultice. Engrossed in her work she yelped and dropped her pestle to the floor when she heard footsteps at the door. It landed with a crash. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she shouted.

“Sorry, m’lady, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The little girl didn’t meet Isabeau’s gaze; rather she kept her pale blue eyes focused upon her own bare feet.

Isabeau was immediately aware that her outburst had caused a fearful response in Tillie. She put down her mortar, and walked around the pestle, to where Tillie stood. With infinite care she raised the girl’s chin, forcing her to look at her, offering her a smile she hoped would calm her. “Tillie, I’m sorry to scare you, and I’m not angry,” she said quietly. “Tell me why I have the pleasure of your company twice in one afternoon.” Isabeau lifted her eyebrows in question. “And what have you done with that great beast of mine?”

The little girl took a shuddering breath and offered a tentative smile. “Mistress Bride gave him his supper. He’s by the hearth.”

“What induced her to be so generous, do you think?” Isabeau was sure it was Tillie’s doing. Bride could never deny the child.

Tillie offered Isabeau a radiant smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I told her he had been so good, and that he deserved a special supper.”

Isabeau ruffled the child’s hair. “You are a little minx.”

Tillie must have remembered why she’d come to the stillroom; her expression became serious. She puffed herself up to her full height and declared in a very pompous tone, “Mother Hild asked me to fetch you.” Her expression was so earnest Isabeau tried to hide her amusement.

“Thank you, Tillie.”

With the message delivered, the child spun around and scampered out the door. Isabeau didn’t have to guess where she was off to in such haste. Tillie would spend every waking moment she could with Flea.

Knowing how lonely it could be growing up without friends or family, especially in the abbey where the nuns kept to themselves, she didn’t begrudge Tillie the dog’s company. Tears burned at the back of her eyes; Flea was, in fact, her only family too.

Isabeau watched as the older woman paced the floor. Mother Hild’s solar was situated on the first floor of the house where the abbess lived. It was a beautiful room, with high windows facing southwest to take advantage of the afternoon sun. The whitewashed walls reflected the sunlight, giving the room a warm, airy feeling. She loved this room and had spent hours here as a child.

The abbess would speak when she was ready, so Isabeau waited. As the silence continued, she tried desperately to control her mounting anxiety. Her thoughts raced among her encounter with the lecherous bishop, her dream from the previous night, and the purpose of the visitors. Moisture trickled between her breasts and down her stomach. Trying to relieve her discomfort, she loosened her shoulders and licked her dry lips. A cold, clammy feeling traveled up her neck, and worked its way around her face. Oh no, she was going to be sick!

“You look pale, child, are you unwell?” Mother Hild’s voice was not uncaring, but it held a note of impatience.

Swallowing the excess fluid in her mouth, she fought to control the urge to retch. “I am well, Mother.”

Hild walked to the table and poured a cup of wine and brought it back to where Isabeau sat.

Without a word, she resumed her pacing. Isabeau wanted to scream, but instead took small sips from the cup. It wasn’t the usual vintage served with meals; this had a rich, almost spicy taste that left her mouth tingling. It was rather pleasant, so she continued to take small sips, enjoying the feel of liquid velvet sliding down her throat, and pooling in her stomach.

“You will be aware I received a missive this morn?” Isabeau was about to reply, but the abbess continued. “It was from that viper Hexham. He meant to warn me of some most distressing news,” Hild spat, almost choking over the