The Bride Wore Scarlet by Liz Carlyle Read Free Book Online Page A

burn-in-hell look, then hastened onto the dais, stripped off his robe, and furled it gently around her.
    The girl did not so much as flinch at his touch.
    Then, rather more carefully, Ruthveyn cut away the blindfold, which was traditionally worn until the vote to admit the acolyte was taken.
    The girl blinked a pair of dark, wide-set eyes, looked out over the crowd, and surprised everyone by speaking in a clear, strong voice.
    â€œI humbly ask for admission to the Brotherhood,” she announced in precise, flawless Latin. “I have earned this right with my Devotion, with my Strength, and with my Blood. And on my honor, I pledge that by my Word and by my Sword, I will defend the Gift, my Faith, my Brotherhood, and all its Dependents, until the last breath of life—”
    â€œNo, no, no, no!” Ruthveyn waved an obviating hand. “My dear child, I do not know who has put you up such pranks, but—”
    â€œI did.” Rance’s voice, too, was surprisingly strong. “I sponsor this woman for initiation to the Old and Most Noble Order, the Fraternitas Aureae Crucis . Aren’t those the sponsor’s magic words?”
    â€œYou what ?” Geoff found himself saying. “Mother of God, man, have you lost your mind?”
    â€œIndeed, Rance.” Sutherland had finally found his voice. “You’ve made a joke of an honored and holy ritual. You have gone beyond the pale.”
    â€œHere, here!” grumbled someone in the crowd of brown robes.
    Geoff stepped in front of the girl to shield her, but she pushed him away with surprising strength, and stepped down onto the dais.
    â€œ Why is it beyond the pale, my lords?” she demanded, her accent unmistakably upper-class. “For ten long years I have trained. I have done all that was asked of me, and more, though I never asked for any of this. But because I was asked—nay, told that it was my duty—I have given up much of my youth, and I have sacrificed, merely to meet the tasks which were set before me. And now you would deny me my right of Brotherhood?”
    Ruthveyn’s dark face twisted. “And that, you see, is our very problem,” he replied. “This is a Brotherhood, Mrs. . . . ?”
    â€œ Miss de Rohan,” she snapped. “Anaïs de Rohan.”
    â€œMiss de Rohan.” Ruthveyn lost a little of his color. “Well. As I was saying, this is a brotherhood. Not a sisterhood. Not one, big happy family.” Then he whirled about on the dais. “Rance, you ought to be horsewhipped. For God’s sake, call Safiyah to take this poor girl away, and find her some proper clothes.”
    Miss de Rohan.
    Now why was that name familiar?
    No matter. It was obviously dawning on Ruthveyn, as it was dawning on Geoff, that this was no ordinary female. Certainly she was an unwed female, which made matters rather more precarious for all of them. Moreover, she both spoke and carried herself with the air of an aristocrat—a somewhat angry and inconvenienced aristocrat. And yet she stood there before a score of men, very nearly naked, and icily composed.
    Old Vittorio had taught her something, that was for sure.
    Rance, however, had begun to argue.
    â€œWhere, gentlemen, is it written that a woman cannot belong?” he was shouting. “Giovanni Vittorio, one of our most trusted Advocati, saw fit to take this girl under his wing and train her in our ways.”
    â€œNonsense,” Geoff snapped. “Vittorio was ill. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Would you entrust your life to her hands, Rance? Would you? Because that is what you are asking every one of the Vateis to do.”
    â€œYou forget I have reviewed Vittorio’s documentation, and spoken to the chit at length,” Rance countered. “Is that not the duty of the sponsor? To ensure that the acolyte is qualified? For I can assure you, she is in many ways far more qualified than I.”
    â€œThat,”