Call of the Heart by Barbara Cartland Read Free Book Online Page B

How can I have been such a besotted fool? So brainless, so infantile, as to think she could be any different?” As if his words to himself galvanised him once again into an uncontrollable anger, he stormed at Lalitha: “Get out of my sight! Tell your sister if I ever set eyes on her again I will kill her! Do you hear me? I will kill her!”
    He was so frightening that Lalitha turned to run from him, run away back to the lych-gate and to the carriage which was waiting.
    As she turned, her head seemed to spin and she had to pause for a moment to steady herself.
    Then as she took a step forward Lord Rothwyn said in a voice that was quieter but still menacing:
    “Wait a moment! If you are Sophie’s sister then your name is Studley!”
    Lalitha looked round in surprise.
    She could not imagine why he was interested.
    He was waiting for her answer and after a moment she said hesitantly:
    “Y-yes.”
    “I have an idea,” he said, “that I might save my money and perhaps my pride. Why not? Why the devil not?”
    He put out his hand and took hold of Lalitha’s arm.
    “You are coming with me.”
    She looked up at him nervously.
    “But ... where?” she asked.
    “You will see,” he answered.
    His fingers were hard and painful and they bruised her arm even though it was covered by her cloak.
    He pulled her down the path towards the Church porch.
    “What is . . . happening? Where are you ... taking me?” she asked in a sudden fear.
    “You are going to marry me!” he replied. “One Miss Studley is doubtless very like another, and it would be a pity to keep the Parson waiting for nothing.”
    “You ... cannot... mean what... you say!” Lalitha cried. “It is ... mad!” “You will learn that I always mean what I say,” Lord Rothwyn replied harshly. “You will marry me, and that will at least teach your lying, deceitful sister that there are other women in the world besides her!”
    “No-no . . . no!” Lalitha said again. “I . . . cannot ... do such a thing!”
    “You can and you will!” he said grimly.
    They had reached the Church porch by now and she looked up.
    In the light of the lantern she could see his face and thought he looked like the Devil.
    Never had she seen a man so dark, so handsome, but at the same time obviously infuriated to the point where he had lost control of himself.
    His eyes were narrow slits and there was a white line round his set lips.
    He did not relinquish his hold of her arm but rather tightened it as he dragged her through the door and into the Church.
    It was very quiet and their feet seemed to ring out as he pulled her down the aisle towards the Altar.
    “No . . . no . . . you . . . c-cannot do . . . t-this!” Lalitha protested in a whisper because instinctively the atmosphere of the Church made it impossible for her to raise her voice.
    There was no answer from Lord Rothwyn.
    He merely escorted her forward nearer and nearer to where, at the Altar steps, a Priest was waiting.
    Frantic, Lalitha tried to release herself from his hold but it was impossible.
    He was too strong and she was too weak to struggle with any fervency.
    “I ... cannot ... please ... p-please ... it is w-wrong! It is ... c-crazy. Please stop ... please ... p-please.”
    They had reached the Altar and Lalitha turned her eyes towards the Priest who was waiting for them.
    She thought that perhaps she could appeal to him; tell him that something was wrong.
    Then she saw he was a very old man with dead-white hair and a kind, wrinkled face.
    He was almost blind and he peered at them as if it was difficult for him even to see that they were there.
    Somehow the words of protest died on Lalitha’s lips and she could not say them.
    “Dearly beloved ...” the old man began in a quavering voice. “I must ... stop him! I . . . must!” Lalitha told herself, but the words with which she would have broken in would not come to her lips.
    She felt as if everything was slipping away from her and she could not quite bring