Read Online Shackles of Honor by Marcia Lynn McClure - Free Book Online

plucked at long blades of grass from around her, sitting quietly, contemplating her fate—all these and so much more. Could she endure the touch of a man who despised her so? Why did she continue to wonder if she could endure his touch because of his loathing of her? Why did she not plainly wonder about simply being able to endure his touch because it was his? What matter was it that he despised her? He was a complete stranger to her. Of course she should not be able to endure his touch. Yet something in her rose to excitement at the thought of being at his leisure. He was the most handsome and attractive of men! She scolded herself in the next instant for thinking on him so positively even in brevity.
    Having missed dinner, and not caring a whit about it, Cassidy waited until dusk before she returned to the house. All was quiet. It seemed there was not a soul about. As she wearily started for her own chambers, she glanced within upon passing the library.
    The sheer power exuding from Mason Carlisle captured her attention as she watched him, hands clasped at his back, visually sifting through the endless titles of books on the shelves. She found herself studying him meticulously —t he fantastic breadth of his shoulders, the way his hair moved as he tipped hi s head up and down in his study, h ow powerfully the muscles in his legs appeared even as he merely took one step forward. He professed to be a man of honor. Of duty. And so…she would test him.
    Mustering her courage and dignity, she entered the library and plainly asked, “Will you at least tell me what no other, even those closest to me, will reveal?”
    He did not appear startled, for he did not quickly turn to look at her. Rather he paused as if he hadn’t heard her. Then, just when she was deciding whether to turn and flee or represent her question once more, he slowly turned, his piercing gaze fixing on her.
    “That being?” he growled as he studied her from head to toe slowly and with seeming nonchalance.
    “Why?” she asked. “Why is this to be? Who are your parents to mine that this would be so arranged for so long?”
    “Your father refuses you this information still?” he asked angrily.
    “Yes.” She continued quickly . “I am not so witless that I cannot at least discern that there is something anomalous about it. There is much more to this story than persisting of family lines or saving one name or the other from financial ruination. What is so deviant in it…so wicked that I am not to be told?”
    He paused and studied her once more, saying, “You appear as a wilted flower, withering to death after having been torn from your mother plant.”
    She knew he was squandering time as his mind decided what answer to give her. His words were too tempting not to merit rebuke. So she said, “If I appear wilted this day, only wait until I’m harvested on the morrow.”
    His eyes burned with irritated indignation , and drawing in a deep breath, he spoke simply, “It’s not my place to reveal all to you, for it’s not my secret. The burden of revelation rests on the shoulders of your parents…or my own.”
    Cassidy turned to leave, but his words halted her momentarily. “This I can tell you . I n my opinion , you should be told. Should’ve been told long before I arrived here to cut your stem and wither your soul. And I will say that there’s no wickedness in the reasoning. Though I find the reason ironic and questionable because of irony, it is not deemed wicked in my eyes.”
    She turned to face him again , and he strode toward her. “Further, I’ll promise — for it does you credit that you choose to honor your duty on such questionable terms — that has not all been revealed to you before we are wed…then the truth of it will come from me on that very day. For then, I’ll be your husband and you my wife , and there must be nothing but complete honesty betwixt us.”
    “You’re asking me to trust in your word…to trust you? You whom