Read Online The Princess and the Templar by Hebby Roman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Hebby Roman
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long waves, framing her heart-shaped face.
Her fierce determination moved him, and his arms ached with longing to embrace her. His fingers twitched with yearning, craving to stroke through the golden wealth of her hair. If he could, he would trace each fine line of her countenance with his fingertips, trailing over her cheeks and feathering the line of her jaw. He imagined lifting her face to meet his, her strawberry-ripe lips sweet to the taste...
Starting, he stopped himself again, awakening as if from a trance. He mustn’t think thus, for such rash desire would betray his lord and debase his Order. He stared at the flickering flames. “Tell me who the missive was meant for.”
“Nay, I will not.”
Raul nodded, understanding the desperation that drove her. With her family gone, who would aid her? Some distant relation, perhaps? Or a suitor he didn’t know about? She might refuse him, but there were other ways to uncover the truth.
Malcolm would know.
****
Cahira opened her eyes. She must have slept for the shadows lay long upon the wall. After facing down Raul, she’d felt tired and dizzy. She’d lain on the couch for a few moments and fallen asleep.
Turning over, she found Mildread sitting by the hearth with her head bent over her mending. Her maidservant must have heard her move, for she glanced up. Their eyes met, and Mildread dropped the frayed tunic and rose to her feet.
“May I fetch your supper, milady?”
“Aye, Mildread, please.” She paused, gathering her wits. “And send Malcolm to me.”
Mildread bobbed her head, pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry Loghan dinna work for ye. I’ll try to find ’nother lad.”
So her maidservant didn’t know. Cahira had thought Loghan would have told her, but mayhap the lad was as discreet as Mildread believed.
“Nay, Mildread, another lad is no use. The Templar discovered our plan. He’s the one who sent Loghan to the stables, not me.”
Mildread shook her head, her brown eyes soft as a doe’s. “Aw, milady, I’m sorry for ye. We’ve got to find a way to send to yer kin.”
One thing she couldn’t bear was her maidservant’s pity. Sympathy she’d accept, but not pity.
“I’ll find a way, Mildread.” She drew herself up and leaned against the plump pillows. “I’ll ride to my great-uncle’s keep.”
“Oh, milady, but ’tis dangerous—that. Riding out by yerself.”
“No more dangerous than being wed to a strange Scot.”
“Aye, milady,” Mildread agreed while slowly shaking her head.
“Go then, fetch my supper and Malcolm.”
After Mildread had quit the room, Cahira rose and crossed to the hearth. The fire burned low. She poked at the smoldering logs. At her insistence, the flames flickered to life. Placing one hand on the mantelpiece, she leaned against the carved stone and thought what she must do.
Her attempt to send a message had failed. And now Raul was alerted. She’d be hard pressed to get a message out. That left her only one option; she must go herself. But she would need help. She knew of only one person who might aid her and that was Malcolm.
He’d betrayed her, true enough, but she refused to believe he was beyond appeal. The hardships and battles they’d shared should mean something. She had to believe he would help her—if he understood what she proposed—no more fighting without protection. She’d marry to secure her lands, and her royal relations would stand ready to protect her legacy. Of certain, Malcolm wouldn’t turn his back on their people.
But if he approved of her plan, he would want to go in her stead. That would be best because he could leave without suspicion. Even though Raul claimed she wasn’t a prisoner, she knew his words were false. If she tried to leave, she would be stopped.
A knock sounded on the door, and she turned from the fireplace. “Enter.”
Malcolm walked into the room and bowed. “Mildread said you sent for me, milady.”
“Good eventide, to you, Sir
Her fierce determination moved him, and his arms ached with longing to embrace her. His fingers twitched with yearning, craving to stroke through the golden wealth of her hair. If he could, he would trace each fine line of her countenance with his fingertips, trailing over her cheeks and feathering the line of her jaw. He imagined lifting her face to meet his, her strawberry-ripe lips sweet to the taste...
Starting, he stopped himself again, awakening as if from a trance. He mustn’t think thus, for such rash desire would betray his lord and debase his Order. He stared at the flickering flames. “Tell me who the missive was meant for.”
“Nay, I will not.”
Raul nodded, understanding the desperation that drove her. With her family gone, who would aid her? Some distant relation, perhaps? Or a suitor he didn’t know about? She might refuse him, but there were other ways to uncover the truth.
Malcolm would know.
****
Cahira opened her eyes. She must have slept for the shadows lay long upon the wall. After facing down Raul, she’d felt tired and dizzy. She’d lain on the couch for a few moments and fallen asleep.
Turning over, she found Mildread sitting by the hearth with her head bent over her mending. Her maidservant must have heard her move, for she glanced up. Their eyes met, and Mildread dropped the frayed tunic and rose to her feet.
“May I fetch your supper, milady?”
“Aye, Mildread, please.” She paused, gathering her wits. “And send Malcolm to me.”
Mildread bobbed her head, pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry Loghan dinna work for ye. I’ll try to find ’nother lad.”
So her maidservant didn’t know. Cahira had thought Loghan would have told her, but mayhap the lad was as discreet as Mildread believed.
“Nay, Mildread, another lad is no use. The Templar discovered our plan. He’s the one who sent Loghan to the stables, not me.”
Mildread shook her head, her brown eyes soft as a doe’s. “Aw, milady, I’m sorry for ye. We’ve got to find a way to send to yer kin.”
One thing she couldn’t bear was her maidservant’s pity. Sympathy she’d accept, but not pity.
“I’ll find a way, Mildread.” She drew herself up and leaned against the plump pillows. “I’ll ride to my great-uncle’s keep.”
“Oh, milady, but ’tis dangerous—that. Riding out by yerself.”
“No more dangerous than being wed to a strange Scot.”
“Aye, milady,” Mildread agreed while slowly shaking her head.
“Go then, fetch my supper and Malcolm.”
After Mildread had quit the room, Cahira rose and crossed to the hearth. The fire burned low. She poked at the smoldering logs. At her insistence, the flames flickered to life. Placing one hand on the mantelpiece, she leaned against the carved stone and thought what she must do.
Her attempt to send a message had failed. And now Raul was alerted. She’d be hard pressed to get a message out. That left her only one option; she must go herself. But she would need help. She knew of only one person who might aid her and that was Malcolm.
He’d betrayed her, true enough, but she refused to believe he was beyond appeal. The hardships and battles they’d shared should mean something. She had to believe he would help her—if he understood what she proposed—no more fighting without protection. She’d marry to secure her lands, and her royal relations would stand ready to protect her legacy. Of certain, Malcolm wouldn’t turn his back on their people.
But if he approved of her plan, he would want to go in her stead. That would be best because he could leave without suspicion. Even though Raul claimed she wasn’t a prisoner, she knew his words were false. If she tried to leave, she would be stopped.
A knock sounded on the door, and she turned from the fireplace. “Enter.”
Malcolm walked into the room and bowed. “Mildread said you sent for me, milady.”
“Good eventide, to you, Sir
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