Magic in His Kiss by Shari Anton Read Free Book Online

a child she’d known she was a princess and, as the youngest of the de Leon children, had been doted upon. While Nicole had delighted in getting her own way, she’d also been earthy, not as aloof as she could have been. Nice to know that in some ways she hadn’t changed too much.
    ’Twas then he noticed that Nicole’s upset was no longer private. The earl, his eyes narrowed and head tilted, frowned on Nicole’s failure to control her emotions. His ire pricked, Rhodri tightened his hold on Nicole, as if that small action could shield her from the earl’s disapproval, knowing damn well that the earl was right—Nicole shouldn’t be pressed up against him in so intimate a fashion.
    However, what Aubrey de Vere thought of Nicole didn’t matter to Rhodri as long as the man kept his displeasure to himself, not adding embarrassment to Nicole’s grief by taking her to task for a momentary lapse of proper behavior.
    When de Vere finally looked away, Rhodri’s own breathing eased.
    Nicole hadn’t moved so much as a hair, and he felt a measure of satisfaction knowing she was comfortable turning to him when distraught. Clearly she trusted him somewhat. A good omen.
    He would need her to trust him fully in the days ahead. There were dangers on the road between Bledloe Abbey and Wales, and their survival might depend upon her willingness to trust him and take orders.
    She glanced up at him with a wobbly smile. “I believe your part in the service has come,” she whispered and stepped out of his embrace, taking all her lovely warmth and scent with her.
    Rhodri sank onto the stool and plied his harp, as Sister Claire expected of him. Since his fingers knew the strings intimately, he allowed them their freedom and observed the relaxing crowd. Most of the people would soon depart for the refectory, where the nuns had prepared a light repast to fortify all for their journey home.
    The earl and the highest ranking of the clergy and the city officials should have been the first to leave. For some reason the earl refused to budge, keeping Sister Claire, the clergy, and Lord de Chesney with him. De Vere still frowned, and whatever he was saying was directed at Sister Claire.
    Rhodri suppressed a chuckle. Poor Sister Claire must be aghast at how many males had invaded the abbey’s depths in recent days. The nuns would surely be pleased to reclaim their feminine sanctuary, though right now most of them would be delighted just to catch a few hours of sleep.
    For all he believed the English bishops too rich, and the Church laws too strict and unyielding, he had to admit Bledloe Abbey a fine place. The abbey itself wasn’t ostentatious, built of timber in clean, unadorned lines. Spacious, yet cozy. Though the stained-glass window was an expensive ornamentation, and the jewel-encrusted gold chalice evidence of wealth, for the most part these nuns lived without excess comforts—or so he judged from what he’d seen.
    Nicole still stood close by, weariness slumping her shoulders, exhaustion and the aftermath of weeping dulling her usually sparkling eyes.
    Rhodri silenced the harp, intending to escort Nicole out of the chapel and into the refectory for a meal. Soon afterward they’d leave Bledloe Abbey and head swiftly westward. The sooner away, the better.
    His intention was thwarted by the earl’s order. “Lady Nicole, pray attend us.”
    After a sigh audible only to him, Nicole crossed the chapel. Having nothing better to do, or so he told himself, Rhodri followed close on her heels, deepening the earl’s frown.
    Here was arrogance.
    Rhodri knew much about England’s Marcher earls but little of the others whom the Welsh didn’t consider a threat. Such a one was Aubrey de Vere. He struck Rhodri as too damn overbearing for a man of so few years. The earl could be no more than twenty and five yet believed it his right to order about everyone within the sound of his voice.
    Perhaps that was what happened to a man when handed so much