Read The Lord of Ireland (The Fifth Knight Series Book 3) for Free Online Page A

led her group of nuns off onto one of the best landings. Greetings floated on the still air as bundles and baskets were stacked off to one side, ready to be brought with her to the abbey that was her place of pilgrimage.
    One of the nuns went to the pile and bent to untie a string that held two bags together, her pale hands working steadily in her determination to unknot the thing. For a moment, the nun could have been his Theodosia, as he’d first encountered her all those years ago, robed in the dress of the Church. His Theodosia, who’d claimed his heart and who still stirred desire in him with a look, a touch. He smiled to himself, even as tears stung his eyes. He took a huge gulp of beer to banish them. Any more feebleness and he’d stick his face in the seaweed-filled harbour instead.
    Dymphna walked over to speak to the nun, who turned to answer.
    Half the beer shot down Palmer’s nose. Forcurse it to hell. The woman didn’t only look like Theodosia: she was Theodosia.
    Palmer thrust the cup back at the beer seller and marched over to his wife and Dymphna, careless of whom he pushed aside.
    ‘Can I help you with anything, sisters?’ His question came through clenched teeth.
    Dymphna wouldn’t meet his eye. ‘I don’t think so, sir.’
    ‘No, thank, you, sir knight.’ Framed by her dark veil, Theodosia’s pale face flushed at his discovery of her even as joy lit her grey eyes. ‘We have all the assistance we need.’
    ‘Sisters.’ Palmer kept his tone low, polite, desires waging war within him. All he wanted was to pull her into his arms, crush her to him. Let loose a string of oaths at her foolhardiness. ‘If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll put you over my shoulder and row you back to Milford Haven myself. And you will be with her, Abbess. King’s pilgrimage or not.’
    ‘You do not have to threaten me like a barbarian, Benedict.’ Theodosia’s voice came steady with defiance. ‘Or the Abbess. It is perfectly simple. I am not going to be left behind this time while you run into peril on behalf of the King, leaving me frantic with worry and not knowing if you are alive or dead, day in, day out.’
    ‘What of our children?’ A low blow, and he knew it.
    She levelled her chin. ‘They are out of harm’s way and are surrounded by the most loyal protectors. And Tom knows how to wield a sword.’
    ‘Then your plan is to – what ?’ he hissed. ‘To ride out for the Lord John, a holy sister on horseback, with a blade at the ready?’
    ‘Oh, Jesu Christus !’
    The scream cut through every noise on the dockside, interrupting Theodosia’s response.
    ‘Who in God’s name is that?’ said Dymphna.
    Palmer looked too.
    A familiar robed figure writhed at the foot of the nearby gangplank , yelling out a stream of pleas to God for help.
    Theodosia grimaced. ‘It is the King’s clerk, Gerald.’
    Gerald yelled louder. ‘My arm! Oh, Blessed Virgin and the choir of saints! My arm!’
    One of the dockers bent to help him, but Gerald shoved the man away with his good hand. ‘Stay away. It was your plank that turned under my feet and sent me tumbling. Away, I tell you, away! You’ll not get the chance to harm me more.’ He shrieked again. ‘You there!’ He stretched a hand out to a group of open-mouthed knights who had stepped off another ship. ‘Protect me, bring me to the safety of Regnall’s Tower. Quickly.’
    The knights complied, accepting an offer of an old sail from the docker. Manoeuvring a still shrieking Gerald onto it, they bore him away and headed off for the town gate.
    Dymphna crossed herself. ‘The poor man. We shared his ship, and it could so easily have been one of us who fell and hurt ourselves .’
    ‘See?’ said Palmer to Theodosia. ‘What if it had been you?’ His heart quailed even at the thought of her injured, but he’d not show her. ‘This is no place for you.’
    ‘As I feel about you being here,’ said Theodosia, her respon se firm.
    ‘Theodosia