The Bride Wore Scarlet by Liz Carlyle Read Free Book Online

them.
    Now they were to welcome another into the fold. By tradition, the young man now hidden behind the Great Altar would be a blood relation to one of the Vateis, and born in the sign of fire and war. He might possess the Gift himself, to one degree or another. But he would have been indoctrinated from his youth by one of the Fraternitas —most likely one of the Advocati—or a trusted family member.
    Geoff’s grandmother was one such example. Although forbidden membership as a female, she had been a trusted agent of the Fraternitas in Scotland, where the sect had always held strong. She had also possessed a powerful Gift—one that Geoff dearly wished he could give back to her.
    He was returned abruptly to the present when Mr. Sutherland ended his invocation and descended from the stone pulpit. A deep hush fell over the room, as it always did on those rare occasions when any new member was brought into the Fraternitas —and the induction of a Guardian was the rarest of the rare.
    Going to the altar behind him, Sutherland lifted the brass key that dangled from a gold chain at his waist, and unlocked an ancient, iron-hinged box. Easing back the lid, he gingerly lifted out a tattered book, already laid open, and marked with a long, bloodred ribbon.
    The Liber Veritas— the Book of Truths —was the Fraternitas ’s rarest volume. The ancient tome set forth all the rites still known to the Brotherhood, and had been in use in one form or another since the rise of Rome.
    With his right hand raised in the eternal sign of blessing, and his left cradling the open book, the Preost read a few short words, calling upon the supplicant to offer up his life to the cause, and asking God to protect him in his work.
    Then he dropped his hand, and gave the sign.
    Inset between two thick columns, the Great Altar began to shudder and grind, the sound like that of a millstone at work. Slowly at first, and then with surprising rapidity, the altar spun halfway around.
    The first thing Geoff realized was that, oddly, the acolyte was not naked.
    Although the fellow was bound just as he should have been—at his wrists and his eyes—he wore not his altogether, but a sleeveless linen tunic that hung just below his knees.
    And the second thing Geoff realized was that the acolyte wasn’t even a he .
    Someone in the audience gasped.
    It wasn’t Geoff. He couldn’t breathe.
    Sutherland, too, was frozen before the altar. Eyes wide, he clutched the Liber Veritas to his chest as if he meant to throttle the life from it. His mouth opened and closed silently, then he uttered an odd, gurgling sound—like the last of the dishwater chasing down a kitchen drain.
    Propelled by the sound, Ruthveyn shouldered swiftly through the crowd. He extracted the book, then turned to face them all.
    â€œJust whose idea of a joke is this?” he demanded, shaking the book above his head. “By God, let the wretch step forward!”
    And the third thing Geoff realized was that the acolyte might nearly as well have been naked, for the shift or shirt or whatever it was left little to the imagination. Nonetheless, the girl stood upon the altar straight and proud, despite the ropes that bound her wrists awkwardly before her. She was tall, with high, small breasts that were rising and falling a little too rapidly, a wild mane of inky curls that hung to her waist, and long, slender legs that looked surprisingly strong.
    Surprisingly?
    Everything about this was surprisingly . . . something. Not to mention erotic, what with all the ropes and blindfolds and yes, those legs . . .
    The room was abuzz now. Ruthveyn had found a knife somewhere, and was slicing through the ropes at her wrists. Beside him, Geoff could hear Rance softly chuckling.
    In that instant, the girl twisted a little away from Ruthveyn, causing the thin shirt to slither over her hip most suggestively. Blood suddenly surging, Geoff shot Rance a