Read Online Knight of Her Heart (Conquering the Heart) by Alyssa James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alyssa James
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father had served as a knight in the former king’s army under the command of the current King Henry, but she had never met either monarch. Why was the king arranging her marriage, and why would he think her prize enough for his favourite knight when her dowry was relatively small?
She stared at the Earl of Romsey and her pulse skipped a beat. This was the man of whom the troubadours sang. The knight whose tactics had been responsible for Henry’s victory at Harfleur, and whose bravery was instrumental in the French defeat at Agincourt.
Lord Rowan, Earl of Romsey.
He truly was a handsome man. The most arrestingly handsome man she’d ever witnessed. A formidable, commanding man, he’d already proved he was more than capable of standing up to her beast of a guardian. This knight had already slain a dragon for her.
Her prayers were answered. Heaven had sent her a champion of the highest order to wed. She was certain this man was a truly worthy knight.
Worthy?
Her head drew back and her mouth fell open as the full horror of her situation slammed into her more forcefully than the blow of a battering ram.
The Earl of Romsey may be worthy of her, but she was certainly not worthy of him.
Panic set her blood racing through her veins. The wicked wrong she had committed in the judgement of the church had returned quickly to haunt her. Deceiving Lord Collins in the marriage bed had been a cross she could bear considering the alternative, but to carry out her deceit with this man who was surely her saviour? A chivalrous knight who had sworn to uphold the values of honour, honesty, valour and loyalty, did not deserve to wed a fallen woman.
The words of the Song of Roland had been sung many times by the troubadours visiting Bridlemere Keep. Some of the words played around now in her head, haunting her. Lord Romsey lived by the code set down by Charlemagne. He was charged to protect the weak and defenceless, live by honour, to respect the virtue of women and at all times to speak the truth.
To deceive this man was unthinkable. She could not do it. The king’s champion surely deserved better.
But what could she do?
In her desperation to find a solution she glanced around the assembled crowd. Finding Ysabel, she saw horror reflected on her maid’s face. Ysabel, too, was most likely contemplating the terrible wrongdoing about to be visited upon the Earl of Romsey.
“The papers are in order,” the priest told the gathering in a clear, confident voice. “This wedding ceremony will proceed.”
Lord Blake stepped toward Lisette. Her guardian delivered a withering look that spoke tomes of his fury that she should make such a good match when he had planned a husband who he thought would do naught but visit harm upon her. The visible pounding of his blood through his temple was an indication of his rage, but he was left with no choice other than to place her hand into the keeping of the Earl of Romsey.
First, she steeled herself not to flinch as her guardian took her hand in his clasp. Then the heat of her guilt flushed through her cheeks as Lord Blake moved a little to her right. Lord Romsey had come to stand on the porch in front of the church doors. Lisette was tall and strong for a female, but standing beside this knight she felt diminutive. Lowering her head she saw the large, masculine palm that was held out, ready to accept her hand in holy matrimony. She bit down nervously on her lower lip, unable to meet his gaze.
The moment their hands touched, her body trembled as his heat warmed her. No clammy palms for this warrior. No painful grasp that spoke of a need to dominate her and bend her to his will.
Forgetting the discomfort of her conscience, she raised her head until she looked into the most intense, moss-green eyes she’d ever encountered. Darts of desire flared through her as his expression willed her to be calm. His other hand closed over the top of hers in a gesture which was surely meant to reassure her. She
She stared at the Earl of Romsey and her pulse skipped a beat. This was the man of whom the troubadours sang. The knight whose tactics had been responsible for Henry’s victory at Harfleur, and whose bravery was instrumental in the French defeat at Agincourt.
Lord Rowan, Earl of Romsey.
He truly was a handsome man. The most arrestingly handsome man she’d ever witnessed. A formidable, commanding man, he’d already proved he was more than capable of standing up to her beast of a guardian. This knight had already slain a dragon for her.
Her prayers were answered. Heaven had sent her a champion of the highest order to wed. She was certain this man was a truly worthy knight.
Worthy?
Her head drew back and her mouth fell open as the full horror of her situation slammed into her more forcefully than the blow of a battering ram.
The Earl of Romsey may be worthy of her, but she was certainly not worthy of him.
Panic set her blood racing through her veins. The wicked wrong she had committed in the judgement of the church had returned quickly to haunt her. Deceiving Lord Collins in the marriage bed had been a cross she could bear considering the alternative, but to carry out her deceit with this man who was surely her saviour? A chivalrous knight who had sworn to uphold the values of honour, honesty, valour and loyalty, did not deserve to wed a fallen woman.
The words of the Song of Roland had been sung many times by the troubadours visiting Bridlemere Keep. Some of the words played around now in her head, haunting her. Lord Romsey lived by the code set down by Charlemagne. He was charged to protect the weak and defenceless, live by honour, to respect the virtue of women and at all times to speak the truth.
To deceive this man was unthinkable. She could not do it. The king’s champion surely deserved better.
But what could she do?
In her desperation to find a solution she glanced around the assembled crowd. Finding Ysabel, she saw horror reflected on her maid’s face. Ysabel, too, was most likely contemplating the terrible wrongdoing about to be visited upon the Earl of Romsey.
“The papers are in order,” the priest told the gathering in a clear, confident voice. “This wedding ceremony will proceed.”
Lord Blake stepped toward Lisette. Her guardian delivered a withering look that spoke tomes of his fury that she should make such a good match when he had planned a husband who he thought would do naught but visit harm upon her. The visible pounding of his blood through his temple was an indication of his rage, but he was left with no choice other than to place her hand into the keeping of the Earl of Romsey.
First, she steeled herself not to flinch as her guardian took her hand in his clasp. Then the heat of her guilt flushed through her cheeks as Lord Blake moved a little to her right. Lord Romsey had come to stand on the porch in front of the church doors. Lisette was tall and strong for a female, but standing beside this knight she felt diminutive. Lowering her head she saw the large, masculine palm that was held out, ready to accept her hand in holy matrimony. She bit down nervously on her lower lip, unable to meet his gaze.
The moment their hands touched, her body trembled as his heat warmed her. No clammy palms for this warrior. No painful grasp that spoke of a need to dominate her and bend her to his will.
Forgetting the discomfort of her conscience, she raised her head until she looked into the most intense, moss-green eyes she’d ever encountered. Darts of desire flared through her as his expression willed her to be calm. His other hand closed over the top of hers in a gesture which was surely meant to reassure her. She
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