Read Online Love Thine Enemy by Carolyne Cathey - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyne Cathey
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lungs and paralyzed her limbs.
A roar echoed from the hallway.
Gaston barged into the chamber, sword raised.
"Where's the bastard who steals my land? I'll kill him!"
C HAPTER F OUR
R ochelle stumbled and grasped the emerald
velvet bedhanging as Becket pushed her behind him in a protective gesture.
In blurring swiftness he unsheathed his sword and spun
to face Gaston. "At long last, Butcher. I've hungered a lifetime for
this battle."
Gaston threw a glance over his shoulder as Henri
blocked the doorway, then he shot his attention back to Becket. He stilled on
the other side of the center table, his bushy brows drawn together in a frown,
his attention a studied focus on Becket's jupon. "Who are you?"
"Is the crest familiar, Gaston? Dig through the
rotten sewage of your memories. Think fire, treachery, greed. Shall I show
you the burns on the left side of my body?"
The mysteries streaked through Rochelle's mind like
lethal lightning. A past altercation between Gaston and Becket. Becket's
hatred. Knowledge of her chamber. Lifetime of planning. A connection
with the secret bargain? Cold doom squeezed her lungs and froze her
breath.
Gaston's pewter eyes widened in recognition before they
narrowed. "The boy. I thought you---"
"Dead? I survived hell for this moment, Gaston.
'Twas what kept me alive. Hatred burned more intense than pain. Revenge lured
stronger than death."
"Then die by my sword, Becket. You'll not have
DuBois!"
"As empty a threat as your soul." Becket grabbed
the center table with one hand and flung it into splinters against the wall.
Gaston lunged and thrust, but Becket spun aside in a blur of red, silver and
gold, then jabbed and feinted with the speed of a wolf after a kill. Gaston
shouted in rage and slammed his sword against Becket's chest.
Rochelle screamed in fear for Becket's safety, then
wondered why. Most likely because Gaston posed a crueler threat. Even so, her
heart wedged in her throat as she waited for Becket to fall.
Becket merely shoved Gaston backward and slashed with
the force of a pagan god. Gaston swung again, but Becket deflected the blade;
the clang echoing within the walls.
Her knights! She should be worried about DuBois, not
Becket. Unable to escape past Henri who barred the doorway, Rochelle darted
toward the window to yell a warning about Becket's army.
Gaston leapt at her; he meant to grab her for a
shield! She twisted, but not fast enough. Gaston grabbed her arm!
Becket snatched her from Gaston's grip and tossed her
on the foot of the bed as if but a passing thought.
"Stay back, Lady Rochelle. Gaston doesn't care if
you're caught between enemies. And stay away from the window. At your first
cry, hell will swarm through the gates like an unwelcome plague."
As she scrambled to her feet at the side of the bed,
Gaston charged at Becket, his sword aimed at Becket's heart. Before she could
scream, Becket ducked and slashed, then stepped on the chalice she had swept
from the table in her anger! He sprawled in the shattered crystal. Gaston
charged for the fatal stab, but Becket rolled to his feet with a speed she
couldn't believe possible and thrust through Gaston's armor into his side.
Gaston groaned but remained on his feet, hunched forward, blood covering the
hand he pressed to his side, his sword clutched in his other hand as if
refusing surrender.
Becket kicked the chalice aside and resumed a fighter's
stance, the tip of his sword dark with Gaston's blood.
Rochelle dug her nails into her palms to bolster her courage,
knowing she must ask, frightened of the answer. "'Tis time for truth,
knight. Who are you?"
Becket dipped his head in a slight bow, then
straightened his shoulders as if with pride.
"I am Sire Becket de DuBois, the rightful heir,
the son whom the Unholy Trinity thought long dead."
"Explain yourself, Sire. I realize you've pledged
marriage vows and, thus,
A roar echoed from the hallway.
Gaston barged into the chamber, sword raised.
"Where's the bastard who steals my land? I'll kill him!"
C HAPTER F OUR
R ochelle stumbled and grasped the emerald
velvet bedhanging as Becket pushed her behind him in a protective gesture.
In blurring swiftness he unsheathed his sword and spun
to face Gaston. "At long last, Butcher. I've hungered a lifetime for
this battle."
Gaston threw a glance over his shoulder as Henri
blocked the doorway, then he shot his attention back to Becket. He stilled on
the other side of the center table, his bushy brows drawn together in a frown,
his attention a studied focus on Becket's jupon. "Who are you?"
"Is the crest familiar, Gaston? Dig through the
rotten sewage of your memories. Think fire, treachery, greed. Shall I show
you the burns on the left side of my body?"
The mysteries streaked through Rochelle's mind like
lethal lightning. A past altercation between Gaston and Becket. Becket's
hatred. Knowledge of her chamber. Lifetime of planning. A connection
with the secret bargain? Cold doom squeezed her lungs and froze her
breath.
Gaston's pewter eyes widened in recognition before they
narrowed. "The boy. I thought you---"
"Dead? I survived hell for this moment, Gaston.
'Twas what kept me alive. Hatred burned more intense than pain. Revenge lured
stronger than death."
"Then die by my sword, Becket. You'll not have
DuBois!"
"As empty a threat as your soul." Becket grabbed
the center table with one hand and flung it into splinters against the wall.
Gaston lunged and thrust, but Becket spun aside in a blur of red, silver and
gold, then jabbed and feinted with the speed of a wolf after a kill. Gaston
shouted in rage and slammed his sword against Becket's chest.
Rochelle screamed in fear for Becket's safety, then
wondered why. Most likely because Gaston posed a crueler threat. Even so, her
heart wedged in her throat as she waited for Becket to fall.
Becket merely shoved Gaston backward and slashed with
the force of a pagan god. Gaston swung again, but Becket deflected the blade;
the clang echoing within the walls.
Her knights! She should be worried about DuBois, not
Becket. Unable to escape past Henri who barred the doorway, Rochelle darted
toward the window to yell a warning about Becket's army.
Gaston leapt at her; he meant to grab her for a
shield! She twisted, but not fast enough. Gaston grabbed her arm!
Becket snatched her from Gaston's grip and tossed her
on the foot of the bed as if but a passing thought.
"Stay back, Lady Rochelle. Gaston doesn't care if
you're caught between enemies. And stay away from the window. At your first
cry, hell will swarm through the gates like an unwelcome plague."
As she scrambled to her feet at the side of the bed,
Gaston charged at Becket, his sword aimed at Becket's heart. Before she could
scream, Becket ducked and slashed, then stepped on the chalice she had swept
from the table in her anger! He sprawled in the shattered crystal. Gaston
charged for the fatal stab, but Becket rolled to his feet with a speed she
couldn't believe possible and thrust through Gaston's armor into his side.
Gaston groaned but remained on his feet, hunched forward, blood covering the
hand he pressed to his side, his sword clutched in his other hand as if
refusing surrender.
Becket kicked the chalice aside and resumed a fighter's
stance, the tip of his sword dark with Gaston's blood.
Rochelle dug her nails into her palms to bolster her courage,
knowing she must ask, frightened of the answer. "'Tis time for truth,
knight. Who are you?"
Becket dipped his head in a slight bow, then
straightened his shoulders as if with pride.
"I am Sire Becket de DuBois, the rightful heir,
the son whom the Unholy Trinity thought long dead."
"Explain yourself, Sire. I realize you've pledged
marriage vows and, thus,
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