Knight of Seduction by Cheryl Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

consent, and my mother is not at home.  She’ll be here very soon.  Please let me talk with her before this goes any further.”
    “Lord Hugh,” the priest inquired, “do you wish to delay until her mother can arrive?”
    “No.  Let’s get it over with.”
    “Very well.  Take her right hand and repeat after me.”
    Hugh reached for it, but Anne lurched away.  She peered to the rear of the church, as if expecting a hoard of champions to burst through and affect a rescue.  Unfortunately for her, no one would come to her aid.
    Even if there were occupants in the castle who pitied her, they wouldn’t be foolish enough to intervene.  Hugh was their lord and master.  He could hang any man who interfered.
    And besides, no man in the kingdom would protest a wedding .  Women were held in such low esteem, their problems so inconsequential, that no male would consider it.  Hugh had granted Anne the favor of marrying her.  He was raising her up above everyone.  If she tried to protest her elevated position, people would laugh.
    She pulled her gaze away from the door and faced him.  Her striking green eyes sparkled like diamonds, and he thought they might be flooded with tears.  Did she truly detest him that much that she would cry over it?
    She looked so lovely, so young and forlorn, and his heart raced at the notion that, shortly, he would be able to call her wife .  To his surprise, he was thrilled.
    “May I speak with you?” she asked.  “Privately?”
    Hugh shrugged.  “I suppose.  But just for a moment.  I’m hungry, and I’ve had our wedding feast prepared.  I want to get to it.”
    She spun and marched over to an alcove off to the side of the altar.  He grinned at his men, who bit down snickers of amusement, then followed her.
    When he entered the small area, she was pacing, grumbling to herself, nervously tugging on her veil.  She was dressed in a plain brown shift, a linen gown over the top, and he remembered the chest of fabric he’d brought as her bride gift.  It was filled with bright reds and greens and yellows, of such soft, delicate weaves that she would never wear any of her old clothes again.
    He couldn’t wait until she’d had a chance to sew something new, until he could see her in a vibrant color that would accent the auburn of her hair or the emerald of her eyes.
    “Yes?” he said.
    He wondered what she was about to tell him and knew that—no matter what it was—he would be greatly humored.
    “I have a confession to make.”
    “Should I summon the priest?  Would you like to confide in him?  He’s used to dealing with sinners.  He never gives out much in the way of penance.”
    “Would you be serious?”
    “I’m extremely serious.  Confess away.  What have you done?”
    “Well…ah…”  She paced again, back and forth, back and forth.  “Promise me you won’t be angry.”
    “I promise.  Whatever it is, I won’t be angry.”
    “When you arrived…I…ah…might have played a trick on you.”
    “What sort of trick?”
    “My sister and I were afraid, and Blodwin was gone, and we…switched places.”
    “You switched places?”
    “Yes.  I’m not Lady Rosamunde.  I am Anne.”
    “I appreciate your telling me.”  He nodded to the door.  “Now let’s return to the wedding.”
    She frowned.  “Didn’t you hear me?”
    “Yes, I heard you.”
    “I’m not Rosamunde.  I am Anne, Ranulf’s natural daughter with his paramour, Bedelia.”
    “Yes, so you said.”
    “But…but…you can’t marry me.”
    “Why can’t I?”
    “Because I’m Anne!” she practically shouted.  “I’m not Rosamunde.”
    He chuckled.  “I suppose I should let you in on a little secret.”
    “What is it?”
    “I know you are Anne.  I’ve known all along.”
    “You…what?”
    “I know you’re Anne.  While you were tricking me, I was doing the same.  I was curious to see how far you’d take your ruse.”
    She shook her head in denial.  “You don’t