The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) by Delacroix Claire Read Free Book Online

Alexander’s mad scheme.
    Reginald
chortled. “Me, me, me! I win!”
    “You
have not won yet,” a man said, his voice low and filled with a seductive
rhythm. “The winner can only claim his prize when the auction is complete.”
    Madeline’s
heart fairly stopped as the dark stranger stepped out of the shadows. Though he
was not much older than Alexander, he seemed experienced in a way that
Madeline’s brother was not. She did not doubt that he would win any duel, that
his blade had tasted blood. He moved with a warrior’s confidence and the other
men created a path for him, as if they could do nothing else.
    “He
is a fool to wear such an insignia openly,” muttered one man.
    “Who
is he?” Madeline asked. She jumped when Rosamunde spoke from behind her. Her
aunt had moved while Madeline had been distracted by the auction.
    “The
King of England has set a price upon his head for treason,” Rosamunde said.
“Every bounty hunter in England knows the name of Rhys FitzHenry.”
    “I
daresay every man in Christendom knows of me, Rosamunde,” the man in question
said with confidence. “Grant credit where it is deserved, at least.” He spared
Madeline a glance, as if daring her to show fear of him. She held his gaze
deliberately, though her heart fluttered like a caged bird.
    Rhys
then doubled Reginald’s bid with an ease that indicated he had coin and to
spare.
     
    * * *
     
    The
lady Madeline was perfect.
    She
was the proper age to be the surviving child of Rhys’ cousin Madeline Arundel.
She shared her mother’s coloring and her mother’s name. Her supposed family
were so anxious to be rid of her without a dowry that they resorted to this
vulgar practice of an auction, something no man would do to his blood sister.
    And
Rhys had to admit that he liked the fire in this Madeline’s eyes. She was tall
and slender, though not without womanly curves. Her hair was as dark as ebony
and hung unbound over her shoulders, her eyes flashed with fury. Rhys had seen
many women, but he had never glimpsed one as beguiling as this angry beauty.
    A
single glimpse of her had been all it had taken to persuade Rhys that buying
Madeline’s hand was the most effective solution to his woes.
    After
all, with Caerwyn beneath his authority, he would have need of a bride to have
an heir. And wedding this woman, if she indeed proved to be Madeline’s daughter
and the sole competing heir for Caerwyn, would ensure that no one could
challenge his claim to the holding. He did not fool himself that he had
sufficient charm to win the hand of such a bride any other way. Rhys had no
qualms about wedding his cousin’s daughter, if Madeline proved to be that
woman. In Wales, it was not uncommon for cousins to wed, so he barely spared
the prospect of their common blood a thought.
    Indeed,
she would be compelled to wed some man this night, and Rhys doubted that any
would grant her the even-handed wager that he was prepared to offer to his
bride. Rhys had to believe that he could grant a woman a better life than that
offered by her family or this irksome boy, Reginald.
    Marriage
was a perfect solution for both of them.
    And
so he bid.
    And
so the chamber fell silent.
    It
was as simple as that. Madeline would be his.
    Rhys
strode forward to pay his due, well content with what he had wrought.
    The
young Laird of Kinfairlie responsible for this foolery spoke finally with
vigor. “I protest your bid. You were not invited to this auction and I will not
surrender my sister to your hand.”
    Before
Rhys could argue, Tynan granted the younger man a poisonous glance. “Did I not
warn you that matters might not proceed as you had schemed, Alexander?”
    Alexander
flushed. “But still...”
    “The
matter has passed from your grasp,” Tynan said with finality. Rhys knew that
Tynan would indeed have cast him out if Rosamunde had not vouched for his
character. The lady Madeline had some souls concerned for her future, at least.
    “You
cannot claim