Read Online Bride for a Knight by Sue-Ellen Welfonder - Free Book Online
Authors: Sue-Ellen Welfonder
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his smug-looking host. The ever-growing circle of grinning, sword-hung Matheson henchmen crowding around them. Most especially, the Lady Aveline. Saints, the maid was tiny enough to ride a milkweed for a steed. And she had the most lustrous hair he’d ever seen.
Jamie took a deep breath, deliberately turning his mind from her beauty. At the moment he needed his wits about him.
Refusal or chivalric duty.
Those were his choices.
And if his guess about the holy man’s presence proved accurate, he’d need to decide soon.
Unfortunately, his annoyance at being duped must’ve shown because his bride-to-be’s eyes rounded as her gaze flitted between him, her da, and the monk. And unless his own eyes were failing him, she even looked a little faint, all color draining from her face.
Worse, she’d begun to tremble.
But she surprised him by leaping to her feet and wheeling on her father. “You swore he knew the betrothal ceremony was this noon!” she accused him. “You’ve made a fool of me—letting me dress in my best gown and braid silver ribbons into my hair! You looked on when Sorcha left the hall, telling her you understood why she couldn’t bear to be a witness, reminded of the day she pledged herself to Neill.”
“Now, lass.” Her father raised a hand. “You ken I ne’er do aught without good reason.”
Ignoring him, Aveline jammed her hands on her hips and aimed an equally livid glare on Brother Baldric. Likewise the rough-looking clansmen who’d crowded onto the dais.
“All of you knew!” she railed, her blue eyes snapping. “Everyone knew save the most important soul beneath this roof. James of the Heather!”
She glanced at him then, both sympathy and agitation pouring off her.
“He wasn’t told. Just look at him. ’Tis plain to see he knew naught of this.” She pressed a hand to her breast, drew a great breath. “I will not be party to such a deception! I—”
“You are beset by the womanly fears that seize every bride on such a day,” Jamie declared, her distress making his decision for him.
That, and the endlessly heavy weight of his spurs.
Feeling that weight pressing on him, he stepped closer to her, using the width of his back and shoulders to shield her from curious stares. If there was one thing he couldn’t tolerate it was seeing a woman mistreated or shamed. Blessedly, in this instance, he had the means to salve her embarrassment.
He straightened his back, steeling himself to lie for the second time since entering Fairmaiden’s hall.
“For truth, I swear to you I knew about the betrothed ceremony,” he vowed, certain a lightning bolt would strike him dead on his ride back to Baldreagan. “My da told me of it when I arrived yestereve.”
She looked at him, disbelief clouding her eyes.
Jamie slid a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face toward his. “Think, lass. Why else would I have brought you a fine mirror and comb as betrothal gifts?”
On his words, she bit her lip and blinked, clearly struggling to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks.
And just looking at her, Jamie knew himself lost.
Knew he’d made the right choice.
Even if the lie someday found him sharing a pool o’ brimstone with Alan Mor and his shifty-eyed monk.
He narrowed his eyes on them now, not at all surprised when they squirmed. For truth, they had good reason to do so. If either of them e’er exposed him for speaking falsely, he’d forget his size and strength and give them such a pounding they’d wish they’d ne’er been born.
Unfortunately, Lady Aveline still looked doubtful.
And more than a shade unhappy.
“Is this true?” She slipped from Jamie’s grasp and turned back to her father. “He did know the ceremony was set for today? This is not one of your schemes to force him into a plight troth he doesn’t want?”
Before Alan Mor could respond, James Macpherson stepped close and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I would not be here did I not wish to bind myself
Jamie took a deep breath, deliberately turning his mind from her beauty. At the moment he needed his wits about him.
Refusal or chivalric duty.
Those were his choices.
And if his guess about the holy man’s presence proved accurate, he’d need to decide soon.
Unfortunately, his annoyance at being duped must’ve shown because his bride-to-be’s eyes rounded as her gaze flitted between him, her da, and the monk. And unless his own eyes were failing him, she even looked a little faint, all color draining from her face.
Worse, she’d begun to tremble.
But she surprised him by leaping to her feet and wheeling on her father. “You swore he knew the betrothal ceremony was this noon!” she accused him. “You’ve made a fool of me—letting me dress in my best gown and braid silver ribbons into my hair! You looked on when Sorcha left the hall, telling her you understood why she couldn’t bear to be a witness, reminded of the day she pledged herself to Neill.”
“Now, lass.” Her father raised a hand. “You ken I ne’er do aught without good reason.”
Ignoring him, Aveline jammed her hands on her hips and aimed an equally livid glare on Brother Baldric. Likewise the rough-looking clansmen who’d crowded onto the dais.
“All of you knew!” she railed, her blue eyes snapping. “Everyone knew save the most important soul beneath this roof. James of the Heather!”
She glanced at him then, both sympathy and agitation pouring off her.
“He wasn’t told. Just look at him. ’Tis plain to see he knew naught of this.” She pressed a hand to her breast, drew a great breath. “I will not be party to such a deception! I—”
“You are beset by the womanly fears that seize every bride on such a day,” Jamie declared, her distress making his decision for him.
That, and the endlessly heavy weight of his spurs.
Feeling that weight pressing on him, he stepped closer to her, using the width of his back and shoulders to shield her from curious stares. If there was one thing he couldn’t tolerate it was seeing a woman mistreated or shamed. Blessedly, in this instance, he had the means to salve her embarrassment.
He straightened his back, steeling himself to lie for the second time since entering Fairmaiden’s hall.
“For truth, I swear to you I knew about the betrothed ceremony,” he vowed, certain a lightning bolt would strike him dead on his ride back to Baldreagan. “My da told me of it when I arrived yestereve.”
She looked at him, disbelief clouding her eyes.
Jamie slid a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face toward his. “Think, lass. Why else would I have brought you a fine mirror and comb as betrothal gifts?”
On his words, she bit her lip and blinked, clearly struggling to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks.
And just looking at her, Jamie knew himself lost.
Knew he’d made the right choice.
Even if the lie someday found him sharing a pool o’ brimstone with Alan Mor and his shifty-eyed monk.
He narrowed his eyes on them now, not at all surprised when they squirmed. For truth, they had good reason to do so. If either of them e’er exposed him for speaking falsely, he’d forget his size and strength and give them such a pounding they’d wish they’d ne’er been born.
Unfortunately, Lady Aveline still looked doubtful.
And more than a shade unhappy.
“Is this true?” She slipped from Jamie’s grasp and turned back to her father. “He did know the ceremony was set for today? This is not one of your schemes to force him into a plight troth he doesn’t want?”
Before Alan Mor could respond, James Macpherson stepped close and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I would not be here did I not wish to bind myself
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