Excerpt #3
Grace
As
relative silence filled the hall, Silas, Faramond, and the stranger all
approached the bottom of the stairs where the dog and I waited. The animal at
my feet wiggled in anticipation of the squat man’s
approach. I was tempted to release the dog, but a glare from Faramond made it
clear that he would give me a piece of his mind if I did.
“Stay, Whip. Don’t pull that poor
lady’s arms off, foolish beast.” The man turned to Faramond. “The dog is worth his feed and housing.”
“He herded the sheep
into my keep,” Silas pointed out calmly. “That is hardly a
mark of a sensible field dog.”
“Only because your
lads gave him mixed signals.” The shepherd leaned on his staff. “He is eager to please as the next dog and a hair younger than most in
the job, but I figured that you could train him to your needs. He comes from a
long line of faithful creatures.”
Faramond grunted, arms crossed over his chest and tension in his
stance clearly communicating his irritation. He had been much more ill-tempered
of late. I wondered if he ever recovered the item stolen from his room.
Silas didn’t even look at his steward, though.
Instead, he calmly thanked the stranger, arranged for the man’s accommodation with
a passing servant, and assured him of payment come morning. Once the man was
dismissed and safely out of hearing range, Faramond didn’t wait to share his
opinion.
“Useless,
good-for-nothing, flea-bitten mongrel—”
“Enough.” Silas’ firm order stopped Faramond cold, but still the man visibly struggled
to keep his temper.
“It sounds as though
the dog was only following orders,” I offered quietly.
“It does.” Silas
offered the pup his hand, which was eagerly slobbered. “He obviously needs
training, but if his heritage is as claimed, it might be worth the effort.”
“No.” Faramond shook his head. “I refuse to take
the beast on as a sheepdog.”
“I refuse to take an
animal on without him earning his keep,” Silas replied.
“Have him guard your
workroom, give him to the gatehouse keeper, just please give him any job other
than the sheep,” the steward pleaded.
The dog nuzzled Silas’ fingers as though asking
for a scratch, which Silas absentmindedly gave.
“I will find him a
place, then.” The duke eyed me for an inordinately long time. “For now, he needs feeding and training. What say you, Grace? Do you
think you can harness his energy into obedience?”
As though knowing that he was being discussed, the large puppy
launched himself at me. Planting paws on my skirts, he attempted to lick my
face. I laughed, fending him off with my hands.
“I will take that as
a yes.” Silas nodded at Faramond. “Leave him with us
and see to the sheep.”
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