The Order of the Lily by Catherine A. Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

sheathed!’
    â€˜Surely you do not intend to toss me aside for a cheap whore?’
    â€˜One more word, Salisbury, and I will cut out your tongue!’
    Edward marched off in the direction taken by the physician, pausing beside the guards posted at the entrance to the hallway. ‘If William of Salisbury has not removed himself from the castle within ten minutes you have my permission to use his balls for whatever sport takes your fancy!’
    Salisbury stumbled to his feet, his face white with fury. He mumbled a string of curses under his breath, then spat on the floor before stomping off to his suite.

    Edward gazed down upon the pale face and his hand curled into a fist. He really would have that bastard castrated if she suffered.
    The soft-spoken physician pulled up the bedcover and relinquished his place at her side. ‘I have given her a sedative, Sire. She sleeps with peace.’
    â€˜Her wounds?’ demanded Edward.
    â€˜Are superficial, milord.’ Tariq discreetly moved to the chest where his cups and potions were strewn.
    Edward sat down upon the bed and brushed aside the hair on Catherine’s forehead. He leaned forward and kissed her gently. ‘God willing, Cécile, we shall be together soon,’ he whispered. Then he stood. ‘Alert me the moment she wakes.’
    Tariq bowed as Edward quit the chamber.

    Catherine tried to focus on the scene above her. The hazy blue sky shimmered into the outline of a damask bed canopy and the distant fields and flowers became the stitched tapestries lining the stone walls, the forest floor beneath nothing more than a decadent swathing of fur rugs. She had fainted, of that she was sure. Her eyes widened as a tall, dark -skinned man, his scalp covered with a tiny wool cap, bent over her.
    â€˜This has certainly been a night of surprises,’ he announced, resting his cool fingers upon her forehead. ‘Fear not, Madame. My name is Tariq and I am the Prince’s physician. Do you recall taking a fall upon the stairs?’ At her nod, he perched on the bed to count her pulse. Satisfied with the beats he folded his arms within the wide sleeves of his blue silk tunic that was gathered by a gaudy yellow sash. ‘You suffer no broken bones but I stitched a deep cut on your shoulder.’ He studied her closely, arching one brow. ‘I should also mention that you have given birth to a fine, healthy pillow.’ He watched the startled eyes flood with fear and patted her hand. ‘Perhaps you should start by telling me your name and why it is that the Prince thinks you are the Lady Cécile. I am honour-bound by my profession to keep your confidence and I seek news of your twin’s health.’
    Catherine looked up at the lean apparition and feeling the warmth emanating from his somewhat mischievous smile, she shyly returned it. ‘My name is Catherine Pembroke. How did you know that Cécile is my twin?’
    â€˜Ah, I saw your sister recently and the child I examined was very much flesh and blood. I was also called to attend upon a certain Gillet de Bellegarde earlier this night. He told me he hoped Cécile was on her way to England.’
    â€˜And God willing, she is, sir,’ answered Catherine sliding up the bolster and groaning with the effort.
    â€˜Please call me Tariq,’ he said, assisting her to sit up. ‘Easy now.’ He offered a cup of wine.
    Catherine drank thirstily, returning the goblet to his keeping as she murmured, ‘My sister once sacrificed herself for me and now I have been able to return the favour. I did not wish for her to fall back into the hands of the Black Prince.’
    â€˜So you took her place? That was very brave, Mademoiselle, but for how long do you think to trick his Grace with this pretence?’
    â€˜I had foolishly hoped long enough for Gillet to escape or be released.’ Catherine grasped Tariq’s sleeve. ‘Please, the Prince must not learn of