Forsaken Soul Read Online Free Page B

was a coward when attacked. Hob, it was, who had to protect his elder brother with his fists.
    Signy slammed the jug down on a table. If she ever did inherit this inn from her childless uncle, as he had promised, she would hire a strong man to throw such fellows out. “Under my ownership,” she muttered softly, “this inn will countenance neither harlots nor fights.”
    “A bowl of your fine stew, served with your pretty hands, would be a pleasure, lass!” shouted a man nearby, his gaze savoring the curves of Signy’s heavy breasts.
    “Would your wife like to know how our cook prepares it?” the innkeeper’s niece replied with forced humor, softening it with a dazzling smile.

Chapter Four
    Crowner Ralf wiped his hand across his mouth. “Not drunk enough to feel happy,” he muttered, staring into the brown liquid that still half-filled his leather jack as if accusing the ale of some crime. Were he to think more on that, he might have confessed that little had ever brought him profound contentment until recently, but he was rarely in the mood for contemplative debates. Tonight was no exception.
    Earlier, he and Tostig had met at the inn to celebrate the crowner’s return from court. That they had done with pleasure enough, but his friend from childhood was a prudent man and left, like any responsible merchant, at a sensible hour. Thus Ralf was left alone, accompanied only by all the reasons why he had not been in the village for over a year.
    Some time ago, he had glanced up to see Signy climb the stairs to the private rooms above. Resting his bristling chin on his hand, he let himself enjoy the sight of her soft buttocks swaying under the fabric of her robe. A tall and buxom woman, she gave this inn its especial brightness and had once shared his bed with ardent willingness.
    He sighed and stroked the tabletop with lingering remorse. Had he not called her by another woman’s name when he was riding her, she might have continued to pleasure him, but his mistake had quickly cooled her eagerness. Since Ralf was not a complete boor, he did understand why and had even apologized, but all efforts to make amends were greeted with a broom to his head. He had not approached her since. After that night, she always sent another wench to serve him whenever he visited the inn.
    This evening, although she stopped to speak to Tostig, she had turned her back on the crowner, ignoring him as if he did not exist and had not been absent from the area for well over a year. He had been hurt at the snub, and, when she disappeared through the crowd of men, Ralf realized he still regretted what had occurred between them. Although much had happened since he tried to escape his especial grief in mindless service to his unpleasant elder brother, he had retained a fondness for a woman he believed to be kind and sweet-tempered—unless provoked, of course. Now, he suspected she might have transferred her affections to Tostig, a pleasing thought overall.
    Or was it? He frowned.
    In any event, Tostig had said nothing about any feelings for Signy. He had not even spoken her name after the innkeeper’s niece left them. The man instead had amused the crowner pleasantly with village news and asked about Ralf’s brief marriage as well as tales from court.
    Did that mean Signy had not captured his heart?
    Perhaps he should simply overlook Tostig’s reticence to talk of any woman. The man had rejected all idea of marriage when his parents died and he chose to raise his younger sister, Gytha. The girl herself was now of marriageable age, but her doting brother had given her more choice about a husband than was considered wise. Since she had yet to settle on anyone, a few eager suitors now urged Tostig to simply decide for her, as was more proper. He ignored them.
    “There’s a spirited girl,” Ralf said with a grin when Tostig told him that she had just rejected a goldsmith of acceptable means. “When she finds a husband she likes, he had better