The Saint by Monica Mccarty Read Free Book Online Page A

after giving birth to a stillborn babe.” She hated that she had no memories of her. Her father had said they were much alike. She felt a wave of sadness. Even after two years, the sadness of her father’s death still felt fresh. She missed him so much. Although he’d recovered from the lung ailment he’d been suffering from at the time Magnus had asked her to marry him, even with her help and Muriel’s considerable skill, they hadn’t been able to save him when it recurred six months later. “Why?”
    Bella bit her lip. “How much do you know about what is to happen tonight?”
    Helen blanched.
    “There is nothing to be scared about,” Anna quickly assured her. “Congress with one’s husband can be quite …” She blushed adorably. “Nice.”
    Christina gave her a bawdy grin. “It can also be quite wicked.”
    Bella shot her a look that said she wasn’t helping. “Whatwe mean is that it’s natural to be nervous. If you have any questions—”
    “Nay,” Helen cut her off, unable to take any more of this. She didn’t want to think about what was to come. She wasn’t nervous because she didn’t know what was going to happen, she was nervous because she did. If there was a moment she’d dreaded more than the wedding, it was the bedding. And now she had even more cause for dread. William had barely spoken to her after discovering her secret. She knew he was angry but didn’t know how he would react. Would he confront her or pretend it hadn’t happened? “I know what happens between a man and a woman.”
    Another unmaidenly curiosity that Muriel had finally been the one to alleviate a number of years ago.
    Bella nodded. “Sometimes there is pain the first time.”
    “It’s like a sharp pinch,” Christina added.
    “But it goes away quickly,” Anna assured her.
    Helen knew they were trying to be helpful, but the discussion was only increasing her anxiety. Bella seemed to understand. She stood up. “We will leave you, then.”
    “Thank you,” Helen managed. “Thank you all. You have been very …” her voice choked a little, “… kind.”
    In other circumstances—in the right circumstances—she would have laughed and smiled along with them, while peppering them with questions they probably wouldn’t want to answer. But these weren’t the right circumstances.
    A few minutes later she was alone. Though it was the last place that she wanted to be, she scooted back and slid under the bed linens. It was common for the groom’s friends to accompany him to the bedchamber, and Helen didn’t want to be sitting in her embarrassingly thin chemise if they did.
    Her fingers were like ice as she gripped the sheets to her chin and stared at the door as if at any moment the bogeyman were going to come bursting through.
    Baaa
.
    Helen knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t quiet the frantic flutter of her heartbeat or the panic surging through her veins. How was she going to do this? How was she going to quietly submit to her wifely duty when in her heart she belonged to another man?
    Magnus cared for her. She still couldn’t believe it. But the small twitch had betrayed him. She’d seen it only once before. It was the first time they’d met. The memory was as fresh as if it were yesterday.
    The Games were being held at Dunottar Castle that year, near Aberdeen. At four and ten, it was the first time Helen had been permitted to attend. It was also the first experience she’d had with large groups of girls her own age, which had dampened the excitement of the adventure somewhat.
    All they seemed to be interested in was discussing who was the most handsome competitor, who had the richest coffers, and who was likely to be looking for a wife. With all the giggling and mooning over Gregor MacGregor—who Helen had to concede was heart-stoppingly handsome—she looked for the first opportunity to slip away.
    Deciding to search for shells along the beach to add to her collection, she crossed the