Read Online The Gorgon by Kathryn Le Veque - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Ads: Link
light of the radiant sun;
rivers of sweat bathed his stubbled face as black eyes focused intently upon
their bright green counterparts.
"Instead of naming my
ransom, I would make an additional request that will take the place of any
monetary compensation. If you will not solicit your sister on my behalf, might
I know the reasons behind your decision? Is there something I have done to
offend you and am unaware of the occurrence?"
The heralds were moving toward
the two men to ascertain why they were still lingering on the field. If there
was a dispute, the heralds would be required to settle it. Stephan eyed the men
in the red and white tunics, attempting to formulate a quick reply before there
were more ears upon them.
"You have never offended me
at any time, my lord, and I consider it a great honor that you have expressed
interest in my sister," he said rapidly, quietly. "But I must again
refuse to divulge the reasoning behind my decision, as they are of a private
nature."
Bose's raven's wing eyebrows drew
together in puzzlement. "I do not understand, Stephan. Is she already
pledged?"
The heralds were nearly upon
them. Stephan turned to Bose during the last brief moment of privacy, his green
eyes piercing. "She is not pledged. I would kindly ask that you dismiss
her from your thoughts and seek your attentions with another. Leave my sister
alone."
With that, he turned on his heel
and marched from the arena. The crowd cheered weakly for the loser of the melee
as Bose remained on the field, waving off the urgent queries of the heralds and
entirely consumed with the gist of Stephan's reply. As a noble knight, he
should have respected the man's wishes and simply ridden from the field without
another thought to the lady. But as Stephan's words settled deep, he found he
was more confused than ever.
His black eyes sought the lodges
again, pensively; the lady was still smiling at him. God help him, he should
have turned that moment to retreat from the arena. But the more he stared at
her distant, lovely face, the more he realized that he was unwilling to accept
Stephan's answer. She shall never be pledged. Just what in the hell did that
mean?
Bose was a very private fighter,
well removed from the adoration of the crowd and the praise of his admirers. He
never participated in the parade of knights that usually commenced before the
tournaments, instead, leaving the pomp and circumstance to those more willing
to accept public accolades. Given his pattern, it was unusual for him to turn
his charger in the direction of the lodges. His own men saw him advance toward
the lodges, wondering if he had suddenly gone mad from a blow to the head and
had forgotten which direction to take back to their tent. Other knights saw him
as well, finding it extremely odd that Bose de Moray should bother himself with
a female admirer. For as long as any of them had known the man, he showed
little concern for anyone other than himself or his men.
Summer could hardly believe that
Bose was moving toward the lodges, his visor raised and his black eyes focused
upon her. As he drew near, she found herself studying features that had eluded
her until this moment; they were not as horrible as her brother had described
them to be. She could see his eyes, as sharp and as black as a moonless night,
emerging from beneath ruggedly arched brows. His partially obscured face was
lined with sweat, his nose straight and true, his lips full and masculine.
He moved closer and she was able
to complete her assessment of his physical features; nay, he was clearly not as
unattractive as Stephan had described him. He was terribly masculine in
appearance, brutally handsome in a harsh sort of way. She rather liked looking
at him.
She was so involved with her
observations that she was startled when he drew alongside the raised platform,
the snorts of his charger jolting her from her train of thought. Black eyes
fixed upon those of dark gold and, for a moment, neither one
rivers of sweat bathed his stubbled face as black eyes focused intently upon
their bright green counterparts.
"Instead of naming my
ransom, I would make an additional request that will take the place of any
monetary compensation. If you will not solicit your sister on my behalf, might
I know the reasons behind your decision? Is there something I have done to
offend you and am unaware of the occurrence?"
The heralds were moving toward
the two men to ascertain why they were still lingering on the field. If there
was a dispute, the heralds would be required to settle it. Stephan eyed the men
in the red and white tunics, attempting to formulate a quick reply before there
were more ears upon them.
"You have never offended me
at any time, my lord, and I consider it a great honor that you have expressed
interest in my sister," he said rapidly, quietly. "But I must again
refuse to divulge the reasoning behind my decision, as they are of a private
nature."
Bose's raven's wing eyebrows drew
together in puzzlement. "I do not understand, Stephan. Is she already
pledged?"
The heralds were nearly upon
them. Stephan turned to Bose during the last brief moment of privacy, his green
eyes piercing. "She is not pledged. I would kindly ask that you dismiss
her from your thoughts and seek your attentions with another. Leave my sister
alone."
With that, he turned on his heel
and marched from the arena. The crowd cheered weakly for the loser of the melee
as Bose remained on the field, waving off the urgent queries of the heralds and
entirely consumed with the gist of Stephan's reply. As a noble knight, he
should have respected the man's wishes and simply ridden from the field without
another thought to the lady. But as Stephan's words settled deep, he found he
was more confused than ever.
His black eyes sought the lodges
again, pensively; the lady was still smiling at him. God help him, he should
have turned that moment to retreat from the arena. But the more he stared at
her distant, lovely face, the more he realized that he was unwilling to accept
Stephan's answer. She shall never be pledged. Just what in the hell did that
mean?
Bose was a very private fighter,
well removed from the adoration of the crowd and the praise of his admirers. He
never participated in the parade of knights that usually commenced before the
tournaments, instead, leaving the pomp and circumstance to those more willing
to accept public accolades. Given his pattern, it was unusual for him to turn
his charger in the direction of the lodges. His own men saw him advance toward
the lodges, wondering if he had suddenly gone mad from a blow to the head and
had forgotten which direction to take back to their tent. Other knights saw him
as well, finding it extremely odd that Bose de Moray should bother himself with
a female admirer. For as long as any of them had known the man, he showed
little concern for anyone other than himself or his men.
Summer could hardly believe that
Bose was moving toward the lodges, his visor raised and his black eyes focused
upon her. As he drew near, she found herself studying features that had eluded
her until this moment; they were not as horrible as her brother had described
them to be. She could see his eyes, as sharp and as black as a moonless night,
emerging from beneath ruggedly arched brows. His partially obscured face was
lined with sweat, his nose straight and true, his lips full and masculine.
He moved closer and she was able
to complete her assessment of his physical features; nay, he was clearly not as
unattractive as Stephan had described him. He was terribly masculine in
appearance, brutally handsome in a harsh sort of way. She rather liked looking
at him.
She was so involved with her
observations that she was startled when he drew alongside the raised platform,
the snorts of his charger jolting her from her train of thought. Black eyes
fixed upon those of dark gold and, for a moment, neither one
Similar Books
