Always by Lynsay Sands Read Free Book Online

three inches shorter than her. Rosamunde had always felt a bit gawky and overlarge around them. Next to this man, however, she felt almost petite. He was as tall and powerful-looking as herfather. She had noticed that about him before, though it was really all she had noticed at the time. Now she took a more thorough inventory of the man she was suddenly to wed.
    He had a broad chest. Thick, strong arms. Thighs that bulged with strength from years on horseback. Nicely shaped calves and ankles. Hair like bright sunlight. Eyes the deep green of a grassy glen. Rugged features that hinted at battles fought and most likely won. Skin weathered by years spent vulnerable to the elements.
    He certainly looked healthy enough, she supposed. Handsome as well. The laugh lines on his face were a good sign, she thought optimistically, then sighed as she tried to recall his name. Her father had said it on introducing them, she was sure. What had it been? Issac? Erin?
    Aric, she recalled suddenly. Aye, Aric. Her husband. Aric.
    Aric who? she wondered briefly, then shrugged. The second name was beyond her recollection.
    â€œMy lady.”
    Rosamunde turned swiftly forward at that imperious demand, flushing brightly at being caught staring. She realized she had missed something. Most likely something important, too, she decided when the priest shook his head with disapproval. “My lady, should I repeat your vows?”
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    Aric peered at the girl beside him as she whispered her vows. He had been uncomfortably aware of her eyes on him as the priest had performed the first part of the ceremony. She had been examining him so intently he had begun to feel uneasy. Now he subjected her to a similar perusal, hoping she was too distracted to notice.
    She had nearly taken his breath away when she had entered the chapel. The transformation from hoyden to lovely damsel was quite thorough. For a moment, he had not realized that it was she, and he had the brief madthought that Henry’s fair Rosamunde walked again—a ghost here to witness her daughter’s wedding. But then he had realized that the locks that framed her lovely face were not the golden halo that had graced the mother, but the fiery red her father’s hair had been in his youth.
    That realization had barely told him that this was his bride, when his attention had been turned by Robert’s amazed gasp. Then the girl was at his side and the priest had begun. Now Aric took the time to look her over. Her face was a perfect oval. Her skin was purest ivory with the faintest dusting of freckles. Her features were flawless. She had full lips. A small, straight nose. Keen gray eyes like her father’s dominated her face. Those eyes sparkled with intelligence and intensity, and Aric had actually felt the energy rolling off of her as she had entered the room. It had seemed to strike out at him like a physical blow. She had inherited that from her father, too. Henry had that sort of presence. Or once had. Lately a great deal of that energy seemed to be drained from the great man. He seemed worn down by his cares. His sons, Aric suspected, were at the heart of that.
    â€œMy lord.”
    Eyebrows rising, Aric turned to the sanctimonious little priest, grimacing as he realized he had been caught out just as his bride had moments before. Feeling Robert’s amusement, Aric nudged his dark-haired friend irritably with an elbow as the priest huffily repeated his words.
    Despite his feelings on the marriage, when Aric spoke the vows back, his voice was strong and firm. The king wished Aric to marry his daughter. He would marry her. And he would keep her safe and well—as a husband should. But he had learned his lesson well from Delia. He would not risk his heart. Even the king could not force him to do that.
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    Rosamunde blinked as the priest pronounced them wed. Was that it? A few words in Latin? Making apromise or two? And you were bound for life? A firm hold on her arm