Read Online The Modest and the Bold by Leelou Cervant - Free Book Online Page B

I,
Brother.”
    Richard’s eyes widened,
narrowed, and slid away from her. They settled on Fulke as black
slits then broadened to their normal shape, their brown hue taking
on a glassiness.
    Constance yelped as he
jerked her roughly to his side. “Richard, pray, you do not keen—”
He was not heeding her words.
    “ If you dared to seduce my
sister, I can only fathom what you dared with my own wife during my
absences, sir!”
    Constance winced at her
brother’s mistaken impression of Fulke. Her eyes rounded, her lips
parted, when Fulke accorded the ultimate insult to Richard’s
vanished trust.
    “ You mistake me, sir, for
another. I am not in the habit of bedding proud, unfeeling
creatures such as the one you call ‘wife.’”
    Constance
gasped.
    Richard cast down his
gage.
    All present understood
what the act entailed.
    “ Swords. Outside. Now.”
Richard ordered. Whirling, he yanked the portal open.
    Constance leaped forward
and grasped at his sleeve. “Pray, do not do this, Richard! You do
not—” He ripped his arm from her hold.
    “ Gods Eyes! Clothe
yourself, Constance! And get down to the keep. I will deal with you
later.”
    For the first time in her
life, anger flared within Constance at her brother treating her as
a child. But the hot emotion soon melted into fear when the door
slammed closed and she spun to find Fulke dressing
himself.
    Tearing over to him, she
pleaded, “Pray, do not do this, Fulke. We have done nothing wrong!”
His movements erratic, he seemed not to be listening. Then he
spoke.
    “ You have done nothing, but I have.”
    Heart aching, brows
furrowing, Constance wailed, “ What have you done that I did not seek ?
    “ And therein lies the
fault—I partook when I should never have dared. You are a true lady
and I not save a bastard.”
    When he strode to the door
Constance raced after him, pulling him back, tears streaming down
her cheeks. “No! Do not go out there!” He raised a finger to wipe
at her tears.
    “ Do you have so little
faith in my skill as a knight, then?” he asked flatly.
    Sobbing, Constance pressed
her wet cheek to his hand. “Never that. It is only that he is my
brother, and you are the one who holds my heart. I cannot bear the
idea of either of you coming to harm.”
    In awe of the unexpected
shimmer that came into his eyes, Constance was taken off guard when
he kissed her before spinning round to exit.
    “ NO!” she exclaimed, her
hand going out to grasp air. Fresh tears flowing she rushed to don
her clothing. When she was yanking on her shoes, a distant metallic
clang sounded. She cried all the harder. Cursing her trembling
fingers as she closed the ties of her left shoe, she shot to her
feet and flew out of the room, her wimple and veil
forgotten.
    Holding her skirts high
Constance raced down the stairwell and out of the gatehouse.
Shoving through the crowd that had assembled about the combatting
pair, she almost pitched forward when she gained the front. Under
the shifting lights of the torches that had been brought out, the
blood from a slice upon Fulke’s bare upper arm shinned. As for
Richard, Constance saw no signs of his being wounded.
    Heart in her throat, teeth
nibbling her bottom lip, hands clasped at her bosom, Constance’s
eyes darted between the two combatants. Fulke made light work of
Richard’s further bids to draw his blood, deflecting each swipe or
lunge with a swift, lethal one of his own. Every chance their
swords engaged, Constance flinched, the sparking scrap of steel
upon steel working upon her nerves with a vengeance.
    Presently, Constance
jumped as the swords whooshed towards each other and clashed. They
struggled. Fulke slammed his head into Richard’s. She gasped,
winced. Next thing, he was ramming his knee up into her brother’s
stomach and thrusting him away. Richard landed on his back nearby
with a groan.
    As she snapped her eyes
up, pleading with Fulke to stop this, her ears pricked at the
things being muttered around