Hostage Bride by Anne Herries Read Free Book Online Page B

at the front, the rest hanging loose to the small of her back. She wore no cap or jewels for she had none,
    but she was dressed in a dark-green tunic of fine wool that Angelina had given her because her own were too shabby.
    She had been sent for some time ago, and she was ready, yet still she delayed, reluctant to face Lord Mornay again. For a moment in his arms she had wanted to melt into his body, to let him do as he would with her, her lips begging for kisses. How could she be lost to all modesty? To enjoy the caress of a monster such as he was to be lost to all sense or decency.
    She had expected an older man, a man steeped in vice and depravity. Her first impression of the handsome, virile man had been that he could not possibly be the evil monster Fitzherbert had warned her of. Yet his behaviour subsequently had seemed to confirm it. No true knight would subject a lady to such a dishonourable display of temper. For he had been angry. She had felt the passion and fire in him, and for a moment she’d feared that he would take what he wanted, but he’d drawn back, giving her a chance to escape.
    Why, if he was all that people said of him, had he allowed her to escape him with her modesty intact?
    Rosamunde was puzzled. Had she built an unreal picture of her uncle’s enemy in her mind—or was there truly an evil monster beneath that handsome façade?
    ‘You should go down, lady,’ Maire told her. ‘If you do not the lord may be angry.’
    ‘He is already angry because I disobeyed him.’
    ‘Take care, lady. You are his prisoner here. He can do whatever he wishes with you. If you do not wish tolose your virtue, you must make him see that you are chaste and devout.’
    ‘I doubt that either chastity or devotion will win my freedom if he is determined to keep me here,’ Rosamunde replied. ‘Yet I must go down, for I am hungry, and if I disobey him he might starve me into submission.’
    Leaving her chamber, Rosamunde began to walk down the spiral stairwell of worn stone. Her mouth felt dry and her steps were slow for she was apprehensive of her next meeting with Lord Mornay. She had disturbed him when he was busy but he might have more leisure to pay her attention this evening.
    Lost in her thoughts, she did not hear the sound of soft-soled shoes as someone ascended the stairs, so when they met face to face midway she was suddenly breathless.
    ‘My lord. I was about to attend you, as you commanded.’
    He was so tall and strong, his shoulders broad, the muscles rippling beneath the thin wool tunic he wore over dark hose that evening. He had changed since she’d last seen him and smelled of soap that was slightly perfumed with a woody essence which made her senses reel. His hair looked darker at the roots but he wore it long and the sun-bleached ends just brushed the braided neck of his white tunic. Yet he was somehow gentler, more of a knight and less the savage now.
    ‘Command? I sent you an invitation to dine with my people and me in the hall. You seem to imagine youare a prisoner, lady. What have I done to deserve your anger?’ he asked.
    ‘I…Nothing, except take my father captive and demand that I bring the ransom in person.’
    He was standing so close to her, towering above her, so masculine and powerful. She caught her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs as if it were a caged bird seeking to escape the bars of its prison.
    ‘Please believe that I mean you no harm,’ he said. He held out his hand. ‘Come, lady. We shall go down together. Later, after we have dined, I shall explain much that you do not know. Until then I must ask you to trust me.’ He needed to be careful what he said and where he spoke to her. Apart from his steward Mellors, who had already proven his loyalty, he was not yet certain who amongst his inherited household staff he could trust.
    Rosamunde took his hand and allowed him to lead her down the last few steps and through the great hall. The trestles and boards had