Dryden's Bride by Margo Maguire Read Free Book Online

hands were sullied in good cause, Tudor.”
    Siân whirled, mortified, to see Hugh Dryden approaching from the vicinity of the chapel. Had he heard Owen’s scathing chastisement in its entirety?
    “There is no shame in the help you’ve rendered today,” he added, taking one of Siân’s hands and raising the back of it to his lips. It was bad enough that he now knew what little regard her brother held for her…she could only hope the earl would not notice the quivering of her chin or the excessive moisture in her eyes.
    “Get out of my sight,” Owen growled after Hugh had walked away. “And don’t return until you’ve made yourself presentable.”
    Hugh Dryden sank down into his tub of hot water and sighed. Cupping his hands, he lifted water up and over his shoulders, down his powerful swordsman’s chest. As his tight, brown nipples beaded, droplets of water stuck in the thick dark hair that matted his chest.
    “That’s a nasty-looking slice on your arm,” Nicholas said, making himself at home on Hugh’s bed while Hugh soaked his aching muscles. “Bet it smarted when you got it.”
    “I was too well occupied at the time to notice,” Hugh replied dryly, thinking of how his shoulder piecehad become dislodged just before the Scot got in his lucky strike. It was a terrible wound—a deep slice through the muscle below his shoulder that had bled and crusted over, then bled again. He had some salve to put on it, but he wanted to get it clean first. When it healed, if it healed, the scar would be just one more to add to his already well-marked body.
    “That’s your bad shoulder,” Nicholas said. “You should have it sewn.”
    Hugh made hardly more than a grunt in response. He’d had enough needles pass through his skin to last a lifetime. Still, it was a deep, ugly gash, and that shoulder had already undergone punishment enough during his imprisonment.
    “All went exceptionally well today,” Nick said. “You should press your suit to Lady Marguerite now, while your victory is fresh in her mind.”
    Hugh refrained from comment, other than a weary, noncommittal grunt. He’d hardly given Lady Marguerite a passing thought, yet he could not rid himself of the image of Siân Tudor being dressed-down by her brother for helping out in the courtyard. Hugh doubted that she’d slept at all this past night, and looked as if sheer willpower alone kept her from shattering under her brother’s harsh and unnecessary words.
    The man was an ass.
    “There will be more suitors, Hugh,” Nicholas said, forcing Hugh’s thoughts back to the matter at hand. “You must make your proposal now.”
    Wearily, Hugh picked up a thick bar of soap and began to wash, wincing as he worked to cleanse the wound in his arm.
    “The queen said that Marguerite has received missives from two other noblemen.” Nicholas stood andbegan pacing irritably. “There was one from some southern earl, and another from a London dandy, Viscount Darly.”
    “So? Let one of them take her to wife,” Hugh replied to Nick’s warnings. “Either one would likely suit her better than me.”
    “Damn it, man!” Nicholas said as he stopped his pacing and put his hands on his hips, exasperated. He’d promised Wolf Colston he’d see that Hugh got settled with a wife. Not just any wife, but this one. Marguerite Bradley.
    “Marguerite is perfect, Hugh! She is incomparable! Between Alldale and Clairmont, you could become one of the most powerful peers of the kingdom. You cannot just—”
    Yes, he could, he thought as he slid under the water, submerging his head, blocking out all extraneous sound. Hugh hoped his little maneuver would take enough of the wind out of Nick’s sails so that he could finish his bath in peace.
    Hugh did not know if he could ever marry. He’d come to Clairmont with every intention of offering for the hand of Lady Marguerite, but he was not so certain of it now. Two years ago, something had been damaged inside him. Whether it was his