She sat on the stool and fed the strands into the flyer while her foot pumped the treadle, making the wheel spin round. Gold thread began to coil around the first empty bobbin. She fed her lapful of straw into the machine and reached for more, all the while rhythmically pumping her foot up and down. It was impossible to see at what point the strands of straw became metallic gold. The wheel was a blur, the distaff spun and Gwyneth gave up trying to see the moment of change, accepting the magic as she did the mysterious wizard himself.
She hummed softly and rocked in time to the rhythm of her foot on the treadle. All the while she was acutely aware of the man who watched her.
“Do you enjoy spinning?” he suddenly asked.
“When I’m not doing it to save my life, yes.”
“What is that song you hum?”
“An old spinning song one of the women in the village taught me. It helps me keep a rhythm so the thread is spun evenly.”
“Your mother didn’t teach you?”
“No. She died when I was very young.”
“I see.” He had moved to stand beside her, watching her hands move and standing with his own clasped behind his back. “And what of your father?”
“He raised me the best way he could, I believe.”
“The way one would raise a prize calf for the market.” His tone was as sour as week old milk.
She stopped spinning and turned to him, glaring. “My father loves me. He wants the best for me. Is there any harm in that?”
“When it puts you at the king’s mercy? Yes.”
Gwyneth nearly knocked her stool over as she rose and marched over to fetch another bale of straw. She was sweating as she dragged the heavy load past the dark-cloaked man.
With a swirl of his hooded cape, he turned from her and brought over another bale of straw. He handed her bundles of straw and replaced her distaff each time it was full of gold. Gwyneth’s hands flew as she fed straw into the flyer, her foot was a blur operating the treadle and the wheel spun so fast it made her dizzy. She was fairly certain the stranger was responsible for this increased speed with his mysterious magic.
Much sooner than the previous evening, or at least she thought so, although she had no timepiece with which to measure the night, the seemingly insurmountable task was finished. Rows and rows of golden thread sat on the floor. Only a few bobbins were still empty, and there was no straw left except for chaff and dust that littered the floor.
Her back stiffened as Gwyneth became aware of the stranger standing behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders, heavy and warm. She was torn between pulling away from the unfamiliar touch and purring like a cat as he kneaded her muscles lightly.
“Are you ready to pay my price?” The low rumble of his voice set her very bones trembling in a not entirely unpleasant way.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
It’s all about the story…
Action/Adventure
Fantasy
Historical
Horror
Mainstream
Mystery/Suspense
Non-Fiction
Red Hots!
Romance
Science Fiction
Western
Young Adult
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
About the Author
Look for these titles by Renee Wildes