Read Online Forbidden by Sophia Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

slipped an arm around her waist. Kept
her from splattering to the unyielding oak floor like an overripe
pear.
    “Give her to me.”
    A deep voice, the tone rich and dark. Strong
arms closed around her. A warm, large hand pressed her head against
a solid chest. How strange. She felt safe. His chin brushed across
the top of her head, his cheek came to rest against hers. She took
a deep breath. His was a remembered scent.
    “Catalin, ye have naught to fear by wedding
me,” he whispered. “I am no longer a monk. I will explain all when
we have privacy.”
    She gurgled. Ha. Little did he know of what
she had to fear from him.
    “Get hold of yerself, lass. Speak yer vows so
we can get on with the feast.”
    Broccin’s booming voice nearby brought her
attention back to the man whose arms surrounded her. His head
jerked up.
    “Enough!”
    She felt as much as she heard it, for the
word vibrated from the firm muscled chest beneath her cheek.
    “Dinna dare order...” Broccin began.
    “Hold…yer…tongue.” Each word slowly and
coldly given. A sharp, inflexible order.
    Anger churned in Ranald as he spat out the
words, for his body tightened against her. Chief Broccin remained
silent.
    “Are ye all right, Catalin?” Ranald held her
shoulders, supported her as he moved back.
    She peered up at the face leaning toward her.
Her breath hitched like she had cried for a lengthy time. ‘Twas
strange to view the eyes of a man behind a mask, though it did not
hinder seeing that eye it surrounded. Compassion looked back at
her.
    She blinked then nodded, too surprised to
speak more.
    “Come.” Ranald took her elbow and led her to
stand before Father Martin. “‘Twould be best to start the ceremony
now, Father.”
    Fearing his frightened bride needed bracing,
Ranald kept a firm hand on her elbow, aiding her as they knelt
before the priest. He couldna blame Catalin’s reaction. She had met
a monk only to learn he was the man she was to marry. A man she
believed dead for many years. A disfigured man, at that. Even a
woman past her prime would be frightened, much less a lass of ten
and eight.
    From the corner of his eye, he watched her
pale face, the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose
prominent. He noted her small, white teeth biting her lower lip
till he feared she would injure herself. She clasped her trembling
hands so tight her knuckles gleamed white. He brought his hand to
cover hers, his fingers patting her hand, as a mother would comfort
a small babe’s back.
    Bit by bit, her trembling eased. He darted a
glance and was glad to see color returning to her face. He squeezed
her hands one last time, before helping her to rise as they
repeated their vows. Her voice was so soft, Broccin objected.
    “Speak up, girl. We must hear if we are to
bear witness yer vows were said.”
    Catalin huffed, her brows creased, her jaw
firmed. He would venture a guess she was getting the measure of his
father and didn’t like what she learned. She had shown spirit as a
child. Mayhap it wouldn’t be too long before she stood up to
Broccin.
    He took his mother’s wedding ring off the
little finger of his right hand, grateful Aunt Joneta had searched
him out after his bath to place it in his palm. “Your mother gave
it into my keeping when she was ill with the fever. She asked that
I keep it safe for the day one of her sons would pass it to his
bride,” she had said.
    As he held it before each of Catalin’s
fingers and said the proper words, he watched her face.
    He held the ring at her index finger. “With
this ring, I wed thee.” He moved the ring to touch the tip of her
middle finger. “With my heart, I honor thee.” As he slid it to rest
firmly on her third finger, he intoned, “With this body, I worship
thee.”
    Her face grew ashen. She watched his hands on
hers with fascinated horror, as if they were some unknown form of
life that she must closely observe to see they meant no harm.
    Did Catalin fear how they would touch