Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) by Diana Rubino Read Free Book Online

torchlight.

"Yes?" he said with one quirk of his brow.

"I, er, well...I just want to bid you good eve. ‘Twas a lovely
     day, was it not?"

He smiled tightly, but again, his tone was cordial, emotionless.
     "Indeed it was. The weather was splendid and the cooks were in top
     form. And you looked lovely. Just as a bride should, apart from
     the long face most of the time. Ah well, many women are like that
     when they are breeding—"

Her cheeks flamed. "Nay! I've never—"

His eyes twinkled with barely suppressed mirth. "So I am sure it
     was not paid much heed to. Well, good eve to you."

He lifted his hat at its brim and placed it back down upon his
     head. Kicking his leg up behind him deftly, he swung the door
     closed with his foot.

She stared wide-eyed at the shut portal. She didn't know whether
     to laugh with relief or cry with anger. She felt so many emotions,
     no one single feeling stood out above the others.

She still mistrusted him—she feared his governorship of Yorkshire
     would lead to a dangerous hunger for more power. He had no use for
     anyone who couldn't give him what he craved—attention, prestige,
     wealth. She could give him none of those things he most craved.

But his abrupt exit from her chambers perturbed her. He hadn't
     even given her a chance to push him away!

He'll be back, she told herself, wrapping her arms around her waist, and now glad
     he had not tried to be forceful with her, for surely it would be a
     desecration of the lovely gown Anne had loaned her. He'll be back, she
     told herself again, but couldn't help wonder if it was something
     she was dreading, or actually looking forward to.

She decided to try to keep busy to make the best of her bad lot.
     Well, not so bad, she amended as she turned and began to look in
     more detail at the chambers that were now hers.

They had some warm and inviting touches, but because she had had
     no part in them, they felt as foreign to her as her palace
     apartments.

She could do something about the room once her little possessions
     were within it, but what of her role her at the castle? She wished
     Uncle Ned were here to reassure her about the benefits of being a
     married woman.

Yet all the baubles and trinkets in the world, and duties as
     chatelaine of a large castle such as this could not make up for
     the emptiness of the room.

Alone again.

Well, she had chased away her bridegroom, hadn't she, she reminded
     herself with a wry twist of her lips. And she was used to that.
     Sometimes she was her own best company. She wasn't going to let
     loneliness get the best of her ever again. She was now a married
     lady, with status, prestige, this exquisite estate, beautiful
     chambers.

She immediately began planning as she moved over to unpack her
     small bag in which she had placed her most useful items, her
     latest needlework and supplies, her Bible, hair brush and comb,
     and a tiny mirror Ned had once given her.

She would make two visits to the poor a week, one visit
     specifically to children. Two seamstresses would make clothes for
     the peasants, they would find ways to increase the yield of
     vegetables in the garden to help feed the poor, a troupe of
     musicians would entertain them. She wanted to share whatever she
     could with the people of her estate. They were entitled to
     happiness, too.

As she looked around and this new vision of her future loomed up
     before her, it didn't look so dismal after all.

A tap at the door caused her to start, one hand to her throat. He was back so
     soon!

But it was only a pair of quiet older women who offered her
     assistance in unpacking. She thanked them, but refused their
     offer, merely accepting help in unlacing her wedding gown at the
     back. Then she led them to the outer door to the suite.

Once she was alone, she opened one of the trunks that a server had
     left in the antechamber and pulled out her favorite nightwear—a
     yellow linen gown, threadbare at the elbows, the