Read Online Heather Graham by Bride of the Wind - Free Book Online Page B

you’re distressing young Miss Woodbine. Perhaps she is upset over the loss of your father. There are those among us who are! And I hardly think, sir, that you’ve really any say over the girl.”
    Rose might have been grateful for the quick way that he came to her defense were he not such an arrogant, detestable rogue.
    “Oh, but I do!” Jamison advised them. Rose didn’t care about any of it anymore. She just wanted to escape.
    “Perhaps we’ll discuss it at a different time,” Rose said. “If you’ll excuse me—” she began again.
    But this time they were interrupted by the Lady Anne. Beautiful, blond, and elegant—and looking just a trifle uneasy—she descended upon the group of them. “Pierce!” she murmured, coming to his side. Her eyes fell upon her brother, and then Jamison Bryant. “Jerome, Jamison, what is going on here? Rose, you are looking greatly refreshed. Are these knaves giving you some difficulty? You mustn’t let them disturb you.”
    “Thank you so much for your concern!” Rose told her swiftly. “But I am really quite all right, m’lady. I was just trying to excuse myself—”
    “But you mustn’t!” Jerome said suddenly. “You must sup with us.”
    “I’m afraid that I—”
    “You needn’t worry about status or position, m’lady,” he whispered, giving her a conspiratorial wink. “You’ll be with us—and with the very great Lord DeForte, His Grace, the Duke of Werthington. Who would think to challenge him?”
    “I have made other arrangements,” she tried to tell him, but Lady Anne was touching her sleeve.
    “You must come with us, Rose. I’d like you at my side!”
    The last thing that Rose wanted to do was dine with Pierce DeForte, yet she found herself being summarily led along with the men and Lady Anne. When they were seated, she was not far from the king, pressed very closely between Jamison and Jerome. She found the meal greatly uncomfortable, for both men gave her the most uneasy feelings, and seemed to assess her with every breath she took. She felt shivers each time she reached for her goblet and brushed fingers with Jamison, and she lost her appetite when she and Jerome reached for the same piece of fowl from a tray offered by a servant.
    Thankfully, Charles was holding a spectacular banquet. He sat with his queen, the ever attentive husband, kind and solicitous throughout the meal. But for her entertainment, and his own, and that of his guests, he had gathered a fine group of players. A masque came first, a quick, somewhat ribald play about a husband who had wronged his wife, and tried to come back within her fold. Then a singer sang and played a plaintive tune upon a lute, and when she finished, it seemed that the banqueting was done. From high atop the minstrels’ gallery, musicians began to play. The king rose, and helped up his queen, then led her past the tables to the floor. And there he bowed to her, low and courtly, and the two began to dance.
    Soon they were being joined on the floor. It would be extremely rude for Rose to refuse Jamison or Jerome if one of the two invited her to dance, and she was poised for the possibility.
    But to her relief, Jamison asked Anne to dance. But as she rose, Anne paused, looking back.
    “Pierce—” she murmured. She hesitated, and Rose watched her a moment, wondering what was going on in her mind. Then she spoke quickly. “Pierce, you and Mistress Woodbine must join us on the floor.”
    “Oh, no!” Rose exclaimed swiftly. Pierce merely cast daggers at her—and then at Anne—with his vivid gaze.
    But despite his apparent annoyance, he stood to the suggestion. “Come then, Mistress Woodbine,” he said. It was a command, not an invitation. She stared at him, feeling a strange cascade of trembling come sweeping down her back.
    No, she couldn’t dance with him. She didn’t want him touching her again. She didn’t want to feel his hands, his fingers, his eyes upon her …
    But Rose had no chance to offer