Read Online Forbidden by Sophia Johnson - Free Book Online

another man? Why had she not asked Hannah? What would
Ranald do when he bedded her and found she was not intact? Would he
cast her out, disgraced and shamed? Oh my. She wanted to spew.
Trying to swallow bile back, she gurgled.
    “Have no fear, Catalin. Ranald will be a
kindly husband to you.” De Burgh looked down at her and patted her
hand.
    Oh, for shame! Was her fear so easy to
see?
    Two of Broccin’s squires held the church
doors wide for them to step through. They would hold the ceremony
inside. Not all the guests that had come for her wedding to Moridac
three sennights ago had the means to return. When her eyes adjusted
to the dimness, she saw rows of people stood, craning their necks
to look at her.
    All she could spy at the end of the aisle
were flowers decorating the railing before the altar and Father
Martin who waited there. Raik stood to the right. Was that Ranald
between him and Father Martin? The nearer they approached, the
better she could see him.
    Saints! She moved three steps closer. The
guests swarmed around, jostled each other, their murmurs loud. So
many eyes inspected her face. What did they hope to see?
    She caught glimpses of Ranald again. Why had
he dressed in black? His hair was cut short. Why did he not turn to
greet her?
    Three more steps. That was all that remained.
Those standing in the first two rows of benches swayed back,
allowing her eyes better access to her husband-to-be.
    He must have noted them stirring about, for
he started to turn. She took another step. Outside, the clouds
shifted from the sun, sending a shaft of light through the window
beside him.
    Her right foot lifted to step forward then
jerked to a halt. The tall man awaiting there, his back to her, had
hair as black as Moridac’s, aye, but it surrounded a tonsure! ‘Twas
not her groom but the monk from the garden. It had to be. Was he to
be part of the ceremony? Did he stand in for Ranald? Was it to be a
wedding by proxy?
    She tugged on the baron’s sleeve until he
leaned close enough she could whisper in his ear.
    “My lord, why is Ranald not here?”
    “Catalin, Ranald stands afore you.” De Burgh
nodded and patted her shoulder.
    Her eyes felt near to bursting from their
sockets. God in heaven! They could not mean it. The man standing
there was a monk. Were they daft? She caught her breath as he
stated to turn. She jerked hard on de Burgh’s tunic. He leaned down
again.
    “That is not Ranald. Can you not see a monk
stands there? Though he looks like Moridac, he cannot be. This is a
man of the cloth. I saw him last eve, and he wore the cassock of
the brotherhood.” Catalin forgot to whisper.
    Snickers filled the air, floated clean to the
rafters. Catalin turned to scowl around her. Were they in her
shoes, she’d like to see how they would react!
    “‘Tis all right, my dear. Truly, Ranald
stands there. Though he has been a monk, he is one no longer.”
    “Nay, nay.” She shook her head. This was not
Ranald, but the monk she had spoken to not many hours before. “I
talked to him. They would not toss him from the abbey because he
committed a sin against,” she rose high on tiptoes, her lips near
brushing de Burgh’s ear as she gulped and whispered,
“celibacy.”
    “Nay, Catalin. He committed no sin. The Pope
has forgiven him his vows. ‘Tis why he is free to come here to wed
you.”
    The man in black had turned to face her. Her
first full sight of him held her speechless. How could this happen?
He had to be Ranald, for the left side was the same as Moridac. A
black mask covered the right.
    She swallowed, remembering last eve. As she
had approached him, graceful, long fingers had tugged his hood low
to cover his face.
    Saints! It
was
Ranald.
    What secret lay beneath the black leather? A
terrible one, of course. Else, why would he need to hide it? Oh my.
Was she going to faint like some spineless ninny? She feared so.
Spots swam in front of her eyes. The floor shifted. Her knees
started to buckle. De Burgh