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

her
this night? Had no one told her what passed between a man and woman
in the marriage bed? Or, mayhap they had?
    After they repeated the vows, Father Martin
kept the mass brief. No doubt at Broccin’s orders. His sire had
never entered the small church unless it was of such import that he
must do so, preferring short visits to the chapel within the
tower.
    “Well now, man, are ye not going to kiss yer
bride so we may have a turn?”
    Raik’s chuckle behind him was a reminder he
had not yet given his bride the expected kiss. His lips had not
caressed a woman’s for so long a time. Did he remember how? He
grasped her shoulders. He hesitated. Would she pull away? Turn her
face from him?
    He worried for naught. He glanced down to see
Catalin, her chin lifted high, eyes tightly shut and lovely lips
pursed, awaiting him. Mayhap he was too hesitant, for one eyelid
fluttered open enough for a curious eye to peer through gold-tipped
lashes at him.
    He couldn’t stifle a chuckle as he lowered
his head. As his lips met hers, a long-held burst of air passed
through her lips into his mouth. Nay, he had not forgotten how to
kiss. But he had forgotten how soft, how sweet a woman’s lips were.
His loins stirred in the way that had plagued his memory, his
dreams, that had caused him to seek penance more times than he
could count.
    “Hmpf! Devour the girl later. ‘Tis hot in
here.”
    Feeling Catalin startle, Ranald raised his
head to glare at his father.

    Raik felt static air coming from Ranald, and
knew he fought to keep his temper leashed. He shouldered Broccin
aside to step between them.
    “We are kissin’ cousins now, Catalin.” With a
smile for Ranald, he bent to place a loud, smacking kiss on her
pale cheeks. She blinked. A small smile tilted her lips.
    Ranald stood back as men took this one
opportunity to place a kiss on the bride’s face. Most were content
to kiss her forehead, her cheek, but one brazen young knight stole
a quick kiss on her lips. He pulled a long face and hurried away
when Ranald glared at him.
    Feeling eyes boring into him, the hair on
Raik’s neck prickled. He moved back a pace and surveyed those
standing nearby. Ah. It was the man who had walked with Catalin.
Their eyes met. His eyes were the same blue as Raik’s own. He
frowned. Why did this man watch him so closely? What had Catalin
called him? Warin?
    Was the woman beside him his daughter? Hm, a
beauty. She had felt his thoughts, for she pressed against this
Warin. Not a daughter then, but a wife half his age? Now he
remembered!
    It was Warin de Burgh of Seton Castle. They
had met when Raik crossed the border to retrieve cows taken from
Douglas lands and ran into a patrol. He had given de Burgh that
scar on his jaw. Aye. And the baron had returned the favor when he
rode to take them back. The wound on his thigh had putrefied, had
been the reason his men had taken him to Ranald for healing. He
should thank him for it else he never would have known his cousin
lived.
    He nodded at de Burgh then bowed to the man’s
wife. While at Castle Raven, they would act as strangers. No doubt,
they would meet again in the dead of night.

    “Enough kissin’ the bride,” Broccin ordered.
“Cook has prepared a feast. ‘Tis well past time for the evening
meal.” He gave a pointed look to Catalin, blaming her for the delay
that day.
    Catalin stuck her chin out and refused the
guilt her father-by-law tried to force on her. The man was hateful.
She had seen the looks he cast at Ranald. Like he resented him.
Hated him, even. Did he wish Ranald was the son lying in the tomb
beneath the castle?
    The sun shone bright, bathing her in warmth
as they walked toward the keep. She glanced up at Ranald, at his
beautiful profile. Such a strong, masculine jaw, bronzed like he
was often out of doors. Did monks spend so much time in the open?
She peeked again and near stopped in her tracks. She had not noted
it before, but when he looked to the right, the top of his