Vow of Deception. Angela JohnsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
leather cord. “Take it. When you miss me, rub it. It helped me ’member you when you left last time.” His lip trembled.
“Darling, are you sure? I gifted the stone to you.”
It was a rock Rose had discovered in a creek years ago in her happy youth.
He nodded emphatically. “Now I’ll always be with you.”
Rose smiled tremulously, clutching the necklace, and smoothed his hair back off his forehead. “I shall treasure it, Jason.”
A giggle from the courtyard drew Rose’s attention. Her lips clamped tightly at Lisbeth’s coquettish smile. The servant curled her finger at Rand, who was sitting on his horse with a mounted party of armored men and Lady Alison. When he bent down, Lisbeth wrapped a hand round his neck and gave him a long, deep kiss.
Whistles and shouts of encouragement filled the courtyard. Rose pinched her lips tighter in disgust at the public display. At that moment, Rand glanced up and stared directly into her eyes. His own darkened with an emotion she could not glean, and sent her heart racing. She jerked her head away and said her farewells to Jason and Edith.
When she approached her mount, Rand’s squire, Will, assisted her onto her palfrey.
Rand sidled his horse up next to her. “Are you ready, Rosie?”
“I shall thank you to refrain from calling me by that absurd name.”
Rand could not resist needling her. “You do not like it when I call you Rosie?”
“Nay. It reminds me of childish things. I am no longer a child.”
He searched her gaze, and then his eyes dropped to her lips. They were bowed in a softly sensual shape that begged a man to kiss her. Begged him to kiss her. The pull was strong as her lavender and rose scent enveloped him; all he had to do was dip his head just the slightest bit…
“Nay, you are no longer a child.” At the husky rasp of his voice, Rand started.
Wheeling his horse around, he shouted, “Move out, men!”
He glanced at Rose. “You and your lady are to ride in the middle of the party. The pace shall be grueling, but we’ll stop regularly for breaks,” he informed her and then rode to the head of the party as it crossed over the drawbridge.
Chapter Three
Sitting atop her black palfrey, Rose arched her lower back trying to loosen the painful knot, and groaned beneath her breath. Their party had ridden from dawn to dusk for two days straight with only brief breaks to rest and care for the horses. Despite Rand’s relentless pace, she did not dare complain.
They received a slight respite from the relentless sun when the road cut through a wooded area. The rhythmic creaking of saddle leather and jingling tackle created a gentle melody.
Rand rode in the front of the party beside another knight, Sir Justin. The auburn-haired knight was polite and respectful, but when he was not riding beside Rand he was flirting with Lady Alison. Rose’s attendant, with her brunette hair and vivid, laughing brown eyes, easily attracted the attention of the male species. But at that moment, Alison, riding on a mule behind Rose, grumbled in irritation.
Suddenly, a jagged pain shot down Rose’s spine. A sharp groan escaped her lips. Up ahead, Rand raised his hand and called a halt to the group. Rose stiffened when he turned around and came directly toward her.
Beside Rose, Alison murmured with evident relief, “Blessed Lady Virgin.” Then sighing loudly, she slid from her brown mule and rubbed her posterior.
Before Rand could help Rose dismount, she swung her right leg over Evangeline’s rump and, clutching the pommel of her saddle, wiggled down, her stomach pressed against her horse. In the process, her skirts bunched up, exposing her legs. She landed with a jolt and quickly rearranged her clothing. When she turned to greet Rand, he shot her a wide grin, his lips quirked in obvious humor at her ploy to avoid his touch.
Rose gritted her teeth. The buffoon. She did not appreciate his amusement at her expense. The man was incorrigible and had an unnerving tendency to goad her temper. She relaxed her tense shoulders and smoothed her face of irritation.
Having removed his gauntlets, Rand tossed them to a passing man-at-arms, and then ran his fingers back through his dark blond hair. With lighter streaks of gold threaded through them, his locks fell loose to graze broad, well-defined shoulders—shoulders that carried his suit of mail with apparent ease. Over his hauberk, or coat of mail, he wore a simple azure knee-length surcoate. His heater shield, hanging from a strap down his back, completed his accoutrements.
Sir Justin took her palfrey’s reins at a nod from Rand and led Evangeline and Alison’s mount to a small clearing off the road fifty yards away.
Gray-green eyes twinkling, Rand swept his arm before him. “After you, my lady.”
She shifted her gaze away from his and followed the others into the grassy clearing.
Rand kept his pace steady with her slower, measured gait. “I pray the journey has not been too taxing upon you or your attendant.”
Jolted, Rose met Rand’s gaze. His solicitous regard continued to surprise her, though she supposed it should not. Despite his flirtatious, irreverent wit, Rand was not unkind. But years of Bertram’s self-absorbed, self-indulgent behavior had engraved in her an expectation of wretched treatment.
“Aye. I have naught to complain about. Though I don’t understand what is so imperative about this audience with the king that we could not take an extra day to make a brief stop at Lichfield?”
“As I said yesterday, Edward instructed me to deliver you to Westminster with all due haste. It is not common knowledge yet, but in a few days he will be departing for his territories in France in order to raise troops and money for the upcoming war with Wales.”
Rose’s hand flew to the stone hidden beneath her wimple and gown. “So the rumors are true? We are to war with Llewelyn?”
Rand dropped his gaze to her, and his smile dimmed a fraction. “Aye. It would appear so, Rose. Since Edward became king, he has shown unusual restraint in his dealings with the prince. Numerous times Llewelyn was to meet with King Edward to pay homage for his principality, and each time the prince has not shown as promised.”
“You knew this was possible and you forced me to leave Jason behind? We have to go back for him.” Rose lifted her skirts and made to retrieve her horse. “I can’t leave him unprotected when war with Wales can erupt at any moment.”
“Rose, stop.” Rand caught her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Jason is in no danger. It shall be many weeks before Edward calls his council to discuss the merits of the war and get his magnates support for it.”
Rose shook her head, and clutched her hands in her skirts to keep a tight rein on her emotions. “I can’t take that chance. You cannot guarantee me that hostilities will not break out sooner. I need Jason with me. I must protect him.”
Rand crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze shadowed. “We are not going back for Jason, Rose. I have my orders and I will not disobey them. To set your mind at ease, though, I shall send two of my knights back to Ayleston for Jason’s protection.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Rose’s forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. She exhaled slowly. “Very well. But I would complete this journey as swiftly as possible so I can meet with the king and then return to Jason.”
“Agreed.” Rand hooked his arm in hers and led her down the path.
Though Rose was anxious to have her audience with the king, the uncertainty of his intent was troubling. She could only surmise that King Edward had made a decision regarding wardship of her son’s estate. When Bertram had died over two years ago, Jason inherited the Ayleston title, and all the coin and vast lands it entailed. But until Jason reached his majority, Edward could grant wardship of the land to anyone.
As