Read Online Demetrius (Brethren Origins Book 2) by Barbara Devlin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Devlin
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through which he viewed the world no doubt inspired many a breathless sigh at court, and as he stared at her, she could not escape the lure he presented, though she understood it not. “Until then, we shall limit our contact to that which is necessary to maintain the ruse, and if I do otherwise, pray, thou must tell me.”
“Art thou always so noble, Demetrius?” In light of all she had heard of arranged unions, she counted herself fortunate, as he could take her with or without force, despite her preferences, and the law supported him. “Wherefore dost thou indulge me?”
“Because I am no heathen to assault ye.” He drained the last of his ale from his glass. “My conviction is such that I cannot abide the violence visited upon women in this land, which I have witnessed for myself.”
“Oh?” After collecting some fruit, she folded the meager fare in a handkerchief, for later. “When did ye observe the sad sight, and what were the circumstances, if ye art of a mind to share the details?”
“I would have thy discretion, but it involved Lady Isolde.” The palpable melancholy in his guise gave her pause, and she struggled to reconcile the devoted couple she had just met with the abuse that often marked an arranged marriage, which did not bode well for her. “Despite my service and years spent defending pilgrims, never have I beheld the brutality inflicted upon Isolde.”
“So Arucard beats her?” At the prospect, Athelyna gulped. “They seem so happy.”
“Thou dost mistake my words, as Arucard would never strike Isolde.” Demetrius cleaned his trencher of the last drop of the thin sop and cleared his throat. “To my everlasting astonishment, she was betrayed by those who should have championed and defended her, a father and a brother.”
“What?” A chill shivered over her flesh, and she hugged herself. “Wherefore would—”
A loud pounding on the door had her jumping, but her husband pressed a finger to her lips, quieting her. “Shh.” In an instant, he grabbed his sword and approached the portal. “Thither who goes?”
“It is thy savior, come to deliver ye from thy night of toil and strife.” The high-pitched tone did not disguise the intruder’s identity, as he knocked on the wood panel. “The King commands thy presence, Sir Demetrius, and it is never advisable to keep him waiting.”
“Quick, collect thy belongings.” Her husband snatched his bag and the sheet, while she retrieved her small sack. “Remember, when I divert to the audience with His Majesty, thou must continue to the bailey, whither Arucard and Isolde assemble.”
“Aye, my lord.” Tension invested her shoulders, her gut clenched, and she balled her hands, as he opened the door.
“Ah, good Briarus.” Demetrius chuckled. “And how art thee this fine morrow?”
“Well rested.” The King’s guard snorted. “But I would wager the same cannot be said of thee.” He swiped the soiled bed cloth and displayed the stain. “It appears ye enjoyed an eventful night, and how did thy wife sleep?” The insufferable rabble had the audacity to wink at her. “Or did she, given the lady blushes?”
“That is enough.” Stretching to full height, Demetrius scowled. “Do not embarrass my bride, else I shall separate thy head from thy neck.”
“What is a bit of fun between friends, sirrah?” Now Briarus elbowed Demetrius. “And if thou dost inflict violence upon a servant of the realm, without permission, Sire will do the same to ye. Wilt thou widow thy beauteous young bride, when thou hast just sampled all she has to offer ye?”
If possible, Athelyna would have shriveled into naught, on the spot.
“Allay thy fears, as I would not surrender my charming wife for naught in the world.” Her husband offered his escort, and she clutched his arm. Beneath her grip, his muscles flexed, belying his serene exterior, and she swallowed her
“Art thou always so noble, Demetrius?” In light of all she had heard of arranged unions, she counted herself fortunate, as he could take her with or without force, despite her preferences, and the law supported him. “Wherefore dost thou indulge me?”
“Because I am no heathen to assault ye.” He drained the last of his ale from his glass. “My conviction is such that I cannot abide the violence visited upon women in this land, which I have witnessed for myself.”
“Oh?” After collecting some fruit, she folded the meager fare in a handkerchief, for later. “When did ye observe the sad sight, and what were the circumstances, if ye art of a mind to share the details?”
“I would have thy discretion, but it involved Lady Isolde.” The palpable melancholy in his guise gave her pause, and she struggled to reconcile the devoted couple she had just met with the abuse that often marked an arranged marriage, which did not bode well for her. “Despite my service and years spent defending pilgrims, never have I beheld the brutality inflicted upon Isolde.”
“So Arucard beats her?” At the prospect, Athelyna gulped. “They seem so happy.”
“Thou dost mistake my words, as Arucard would never strike Isolde.” Demetrius cleaned his trencher of the last drop of the thin sop and cleared his throat. “To my everlasting astonishment, she was betrayed by those who should have championed and defended her, a father and a brother.”
“What?” A chill shivered over her flesh, and she hugged herself. “Wherefore would—”
A loud pounding on the door had her jumping, but her husband pressed a finger to her lips, quieting her. “Shh.” In an instant, he grabbed his sword and approached the portal. “Thither who goes?”
“It is thy savior, come to deliver ye from thy night of toil and strife.” The high-pitched tone did not disguise the intruder’s identity, as he knocked on the wood panel. “The King commands thy presence, Sir Demetrius, and it is never advisable to keep him waiting.”
“Quick, collect thy belongings.” Her husband snatched his bag and the sheet, while she retrieved her small sack. “Remember, when I divert to the audience with His Majesty, thou must continue to the bailey, whither Arucard and Isolde assemble.”
“Aye, my lord.” Tension invested her shoulders, her gut clenched, and she balled her hands, as he opened the door.
“Ah, good Briarus.” Demetrius chuckled. “And how art thee this fine morrow?”
“Well rested.” The King’s guard snorted. “But I would wager the same cannot be said of thee.” He swiped the soiled bed cloth and displayed the stain. “It appears ye enjoyed an eventful night, and how did thy wife sleep?” The insufferable rabble had the audacity to wink at her. “Or did she, given the lady blushes?”
“That is enough.” Stretching to full height, Demetrius scowled. “Do not embarrass my bride, else I shall separate thy head from thy neck.”
“What is a bit of fun between friends, sirrah?” Now Briarus elbowed Demetrius. “And if thou dost inflict violence upon a servant of the realm, without permission, Sire will do the same to ye. Wilt thou widow thy beauteous young bride, when thou hast just sampled all she has to offer ye?”
If possible, Athelyna would have shriveled into naught, on the spot.
“Allay thy fears, as I would not surrender my charming wife for naught in the world.” Her husband offered his escort, and she clutched his arm. Beneath her grip, his muscles flexed, belying his serene exterior, and she swallowed her
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