The High Sheriff of Huntingdon by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online

complete  disinterest. It w a s doubtless the servant come to remove her empty bowl of gruel. It was a good thing she’d never paid m u c h attention to the overrated pleasures of t h e flesh. But after a week, gruel was getting slightly wearisome, particularly when the scent of roast mutton drifted up to her window on the warm n i g ht air.
    Or h e r visitor m i gh t be G illes De Lancey. He’ d come every night and s ta y e d a decorous few minutes, asking after her welfare, kissing her hand, making s ure the glow ering Helva was always within hearing. But Helva didn’t see the burning promise in his undeniably beautiful b l u e eyes, didn’t feel the pressure of his soft lips against the back of her hand. Helva didn’t see what Elspeth could see full well: that all she had to do was ask and Gilles De Lancey would spirit h e r away from this place.
    She still wasn’t sure what had kept her there. Certainly not fear of her husband’s revenge. Everyone had gone to great pains to inform her that Alistair was mad, dan gerous, and evil. If ev e n half the stories about him were true, her time on this earth was already nearing its end. Her only chance of survival was to escape.
    But something kept her from taking that step. Perhaps it was her instinctive distrust of men who were too hand some. Perhaps it w a s the unsettling effect of Alistair’s kiss. Or perhaps she was simply going as mad as her new husband purportedly was.
    She was standing in t he window, staring out into the n i g h t air, when t h e door opened . She h a d come to a decision—if De Lancey offered a means of escape she would take it. To be s u r e , she’d been married in the eyes of God and her church. But she’d been miles away from the ceremony, completely oblivious , and while no one had ever suggested that a bride had to agree to being wed, it only seemed fair t h a t she at least be consulted in the matter.
    The Sisters of the Everlasting Martyr might offer her sanctuary from t he sheriff’s r a g e and her father’s bullying, though they hadn’t been much help originally. Or perhaps De Lancey himself knew of a place where she might hide until the sheriff forgot about his runaway bride.
    She turned , plastering a welcoming smile o n her face, o n e that froze when she saw the black figure of her husband filling the doorway.
    “You there,” he said contemptuously, nodding at Hel va. “Make yourself scarce.”
    It was only slightly gratifying to see the sour-tempered Helva scurry to do her master’s bidding. Elspeth held herself very still, leaning against the stone casement, considering whether s he had any reason to be frightened. The answer, unwelcome as it was, was definitely yes.
    “I’ll wait outside,” Helva murmured deferentially.
    “You’ll get your fat, useless carcass downstairs and out of the tower,” the sheriff of Huntingdon said in his cool, silvery voice. “I don’t wish to be interrupted.” And he started toward Elspeth, casually unfa s tening his doublet.
    She was determined not to flinch, though she was suddenly very cold. This was her husband. It was her duty and God’s will that she submit to him. Despite the disturbing power of his kiss, she had a hard time remember ing that. “I wouldn’t think anyone would dare interrupt you ,” she said in an admirably calm voice.
    He didn’t even bother to check to make sure that Helva had left. “People are surprisingly foolhardy,” he said, watching her with his strange golden eyes. He glanced around him. “Is there any wine in this place?”
    She shook her head. “I’ ve been kept on a ration of cold gruel and brackish water since I’ve been here.”
    “And you haven’t liked that one bit, have you?” he murmured , stripping off the heavy velvet tunic. He was wearing a loose black shirt beneath, and black hose, and his long black hair was a m ane around his face. “You m ust been u s ed to more luxurious treatment in the convent.”
    “The