Vow of Deception. Angela JohnsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
looked away. “’Tis not you…Golan,” she lied. “My objection is to marriage, to any man. I had intended to dedicate my life to a vow of chastity.”
He stepped closer, reached out and cupped her cheek. “Beauty such as yours should not be squandered on chastity.”
She recoiled, but his other hand came up to clutch her head. He slowly drew his lips down toward hers. “Let me kiss you. I mean to convince you that you were meant for me, to bear my children.”
Cringing away from him, she brought her hands up and pressed against his chest. He did not budge. “My lord, Golan, you do not want me. You want my lands and vast wealth.”
His breath wafted across her lips. “Aye, but I want you more. And I shall have you.”
Rose shivered at the dark current of possession in his voice. “Golan, we are not yet wed. Prithee, release me,” she babbled desperately.
“One kiss. You shall not be disappointed,” he vowed.
“I do not want—” His mouth covered hers, cutting off her denial.
The moment his cold, thin lips touched hers, a shudder of disgust traveled down her body. Wrapping his arms around her, he groaned in satisfaction and plunged his tongue into her mouth. Rose whimpered, trembling uncontrollably. He ravaged her mouth, his tongue nearly gagging her as it thrust inside exuberantly.
He raised his mouth, and then trailed a wet path down her neck, mumbling, “Oh, God, you cannot deny it. I can feel you trembling with desire.”
She squirmed to escape his embrace. “Nay, release me. I do not want you. We are not yet married. Shall you dishonor me in the Lord’s house?” Her voice grew shrill.
He ignored her protests. “You need not be coy. I know what you want. You need to be coaxed and taught how to please me.” His thick fingers clutched her breast and squeezed hard.
Sharp pain seared her breast. Rose cried out, “Let me go! You are hurting me!”
His black eyes blazed with possessive determination before he crushed his mouth over hers. Rose moaned in misery and appalled disbelief as nausea churned in her stomach.
She began to struggle harder, but Golan shoved his big muscular body against hers and pressed her up against a stone column. He thrust his hard member into her shuddering belly. Terror struck a dagger into her heart. She froze as humiliating memories from the past tormented her—memories of Bertram’s forced seduction of her while Lady Lydia watched; of his braying laughter and her feelings of shame and degradation. Rose could not breathe. She gasped, trying to gulp air into her constricted lungs.
Tears of pain and humiliation blurred her vision. She bucked against him, and finally tearing her mouth free, she cried out, a desperate plea in her voice, “Stop, prithee!”
A roar of savage fury erupted in the chapel. Golan turned in stunned surprise. Rose flung away from the knight’s hold and huddled against the column. Her eyes grew wide when Rand flew at the man and pummeled him in the face. With a final punch, blood erupted from Golan’s nose and he flew backward. He landed on his arse on the chapel floor, clutching his nose and groaning in agony.
Fury pumping through him, Rand drew his sword, pressed the sharp tip beneath Golan’s chin, and glared down at him. “How dare you assault my betrothed. I could slay you where you lay.” After seeing Golan force himself on Rose, Rand could never let the marriage proceed. With that in mind, he knew of only one way to convince the king Rose was ineligible to marry Golan.
Golan scrambled to his feet, blood splatters on his tunic. Rand kept the steel blade steady and shoved Golan’s chin higher.
“You, Sir Rand, are a liar. Lady Ayleston is my betrothed.” Golan’s eyes glared with a hatred that bordered on madness. “The king just confirmed it this day.”
Rand curled his lip. “Then I pity you. The lady and I have a prior claim. With unimpeachable witnesses who will swear we were betrothed last spring.”
“I do not believe you. Rose swore she intended to take a vow of chastity.” Golan spun around and headed for the chapel exit. “The king shall hear of this!” he shouted.
Rand strode over to Rose, crouched against the stone column with her veil pulled over her face. “Oh, God, Rose. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” He reached out to hold her.
Rose flinched and whimpered like a wounded animal. He swallowed a growl of frustration and clenched his bruised knuckles to keep from touching her.
Rand knelt on his right knee before her, bending his other knee up and resting his forearm on it. He had wanted to kill Sir Golan. And he would have were it not a sacrilege to commit homicide in the consecrated edifice.
Rand spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “Rose. It’s all right. Sir Golan is gone. Prithee, remove the veil and show me your face so I know you are not unduly harmed.”
Cautious not to frighten her, Rand reached out slowly, caught the tail end of the fabric, and eased it out of her hand and away from her face. Though she didn’t resist, she drew her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly.
He searched her face. Skin usually soft and clear with good health was mottled and streaked with tears. And her eyes appeared dazed with a deep and unimaginable pain.
Feeling as though a fist squeezed his heart, Rand gasped. He inhaled deeply, trying to get a breath into his lungs.
“Speak to me, Rose. Did the bastard—? Did he touch you in a sordid manner?”
She shook her head violently. “Nay. He tried to convince me that I would enjoy his kisses, but I cannot. I pleaded for him to stop—” she stopped short, exhaling with a shudder.
“’Tis my fault.” Rand frowned. “I heard rumors about Golan, but I did not believe them. I thought you would be better—” He stopped midsentence when he realized Rose was still ignorant about his part in this travesty.
She raised her gaze, clouded with confusion. The moon silvered her heart-shaped face with a luminescent glow. “What are you talking about, Rand? How could you be to blame? You could not know that Golan would force his attentions on me. Or that he would believe he had a right to do so.”
“Rose, I pray you—”
She ignored him and continued, “You see, the king has given Sir Golan wardship of Jason’s estates.” Her voice dropped to a shuddery whisper. “And giving me no choice in the matter, Edward has demanded I marry the man in two days’ time.”
Rand dropped his gaze. Flexing his stiff knuckles, he stared at them, unable to look her in the face.
Though he was not looking directly at her, he saw her entire body stiffen in sudden suspicion. “Rand? Why do you not look surprised that King Edward ordered me to marry Sir Golan?”
When Rand hesitated, she dropped her arms from her knees and shoved up from the column awkwardly. He clutched her arm gently to help her rise and released her as soon as she was on her feet so that she did not feel threatened.
“Rand? Why will you not answer my question?”
“I am sorry, Rose. I could not disobey my king.”
“Sorry for what? Unless you…Tell me the truth.” Her voice grew louder, almost shrill. “Did you or did you not know Edward was going to force me to marry when you came to Ayleston and escorted me to court?”
Rand braced himself for her contempt. “Aye. The king told me of his plans.”
The stiff mask of her face crumpled and she shrieked in despair. Surprising him completely, she launched herself at him. Her hands arched like the claws of a cat.
Rand, reflexes amazingly quick, caught her hands before she could gouge his face.
Rose tugged on his grip wildly, her body wiggling like a captured eel trying to get free from a trap. She wailed, “How could