Read Online Fairest Of Them All by Teresa Medeiros - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Teresa Medeiros
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speed and thunder of the magnificent beast. Holly clenched the gallery rail, her heart racing in her parched throat with involuntary suspense.
Gavenmore lifted his lance. Lord Fairfax went tumbling head over heels off the back of his mount.
Holly squinted in confusion. As Fairfax clambered sheepishly to his feet, dusting off the plume of his fallen helm, the chorus of jeers and boos that greeted him confirmed her suspicions. Gavenmore’s lance had never touched him. She doubted he’d even remained mounted long enough to feel its wind whistle past.
Dispatching the next challenger required even less of the knight’s effort. Sir Henry of Sovermoth launched himself off his horse before Gavenmore could so much as raise his lance. Holly’s horror mounted as she realized that not a single one of her former admirers was willing to risk his neck to rescue her from the Welshman’s clutches now that her legendary beauty appeared to have deserted her.
Gavenmore was more exasperated by their cowardice than she was. After his third opponent managed to fall off his horse before the heralds could even sound the call to battle, he hurled his shield, tore off his helm, and plunged down from his own mount Shaking off the restraining hand of his man-at-arms, he strode toward the center of the list, no less threatening without destrier or lance.
A terse silence fell over the crowd, broken only by the snap of his dark hair whipping in the wind. He slammed back the faceplate of his helm, condemning them all with his unflinching gaze.
Drawing his broadsword, he hefted it in the air with both hands. “English curs! Is there not one among you man enough to offer me a fair fight?”
As her papa slowly rose, Holly resisted the urge to jerk him back down. The shameful proceedings seemed to have sapped him of his ability to feign even feeble enthusiasm. “If there are no other challengers, I am forced to pronounce Sir Austyn the vie—”
An imperious voice rang out. “Stay your hand, my lord. I’m more than prepared to offer this Welsh savage a fair fight for the lady’s hand.”
A cloaked figure at the edge of the crowd eased back his elegant damask-trimmed hood. His mocking gaze was not fixed on Sir Austyn or her father, but on Holly. She rose, blinking the sunlight out of her eyes to find herself staring into the dark, malevolent eyes of Eugene de Legget, baron of Montfort.
CHAPTER 6
Eugene wove his way through the muttering crowd, his serpentine grace a jarring contrast to the leashed power of Gavenmore’s stance. Betrayed by her trembling knees, Holly sank into her chair as Eugene climbed the steps to the gallery. Unlike every other man in the assembly, he looked her full in the face as he dropped to one knee at her feet and brought her icy hand to his lips.
“You sly little minx,” he murmured beneath the guise of kissing her hand. “You might have fooled these dunderheads with your mummery, but I’ll not be duped so easily. You’ve made my task all the easier. After I best this Welsh whelp, you shall have only the role of my bride to play and only the stage of my bed for your performance.”
His tongue flicked out to lash her knuckles. Holly snatched her hand back, wiping it on her skirt in deliberate insult “ Twould be a performance indeed, my lord, for I’d be unable to summon even a trace of genuine sentiment for the duty.”
Eugene’s smile grew frigid, sending a chill of foreboding down her spine. As he backed away, bowing with each step, she thought it ironic that she had never before been more in need of a champion.
Her desperate gaze was drawn back to Gaven-more. He had been watching the odd exchange through narrowed eyes, his sword still held ready in his hands.
She almost jumped out of her skin when her father reached over to give her hand a benevolent pat. “Should have known Montfort would deliver us from this disaster. He’ll make you a fine husband, child, see if he doesn’t.”
Holly could
Gavenmore lifted his lance. Lord Fairfax went tumbling head over heels off the back of his mount.
Holly squinted in confusion. As Fairfax clambered sheepishly to his feet, dusting off the plume of his fallen helm, the chorus of jeers and boos that greeted him confirmed her suspicions. Gavenmore’s lance had never touched him. She doubted he’d even remained mounted long enough to feel its wind whistle past.
Dispatching the next challenger required even less of the knight’s effort. Sir Henry of Sovermoth launched himself off his horse before Gavenmore could so much as raise his lance. Holly’s horror mounted as she realized that not a single one of her former admirers was willing to risk his neck to rescue her from the Welshman’s clutches now that her legendary beauty appeared to have deserted her.
Gavenmore was more exasperated by their cowardice than she was. After his third opponent managed to fall off his horse before the heralds could even sound the call to battle, he hurled his shield, tore off his helm, and plunged down from his own mount Shaking off the restraining hand of his man-at-arms, he strode toward the center of the list, no less threatening without destrier or lance.
A terse silence fell over the crowd, broken only by the snap of his dark hair whipping in the wind. He slammed back the faceplate of his helm, condemning them all with his unflinching gaze.
Drawing his broadsword, he hefted it in the air with both hands. “English curs! Is there not one among you man enough to offer me a fair fight?”
As her papa slowly rose, Holly resisted the urge to jerk him back down. The shameful proceedings seemed to have sapped him of his ability to feign even feeble enthusiasm. “If there are no other challengers, I am forced to pronounce Sir Austyn the vie—”
An imperious voice rang out. “Stay your hand, my lord. I’m more than prepared to offer this Welsh savage a fair fight for the lady’s hand.”
A cloaked figure at the edge of the crowd eased back his elegant damask-trimmed hood. His mocking gaze was not fixed on Sir Austyn or her father, but on Holly. She rose, blinking the sunlight out of her eyes to find herself staring into the dark, malevolent eyes of Eugene de Legget, baron of Montfort.
CHAPTER 6
Eugene wove his way through the muttering crowd, his serpentine grace a jarring contrast to the leashed power of Gavenmore’s stance. Betrayed by her trembling knees, Holly sank into her chair as Eugene climbed the steps to the gallery. Unlike every other man in the assembly, he looked her full in the face as he dropped to one knee at her feet and brought her icy hand to his lips.
“You sly little minx,” he murmured beneath the guise of kissing her hand. “You might have fooled these dunderheads with your mummery, but I’ll not be duped so easily. You’ve made my task all the easier. After I best this Welsh whelp, you shall have only the role of my bride to play and only the stage of my bed for your performance.”
His tongue flicked out to lash her knuckles. Holly snatched her hand back, wiping it on her skirt in deliberate insult “ Twould be a performance indeed, my lord, for I’d be unable to summon even a trace of genuine sentiment for the duty.”
Eugene’s smile grew frigid, sending a chill of foreboding down her spine. As he backed away, bowing with each step, she thought it ironic that she had never before been more in need of a champion.
Her desperate gaze was drawn back to Gaven-more. He had been watching the odd exchange through narrowed eyes, his sword still held ready in his hands.
She almost jumped out of her skin when her father reached over to give her hand a benevolent pat. “Should have known Montfort would deliver us from this disaster. He’ll make you a fine husband, child, see if he doesn’t.”
Holly could
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