Falcon's Heart. Denise LynnЧитать онлайн книгу.
surrounding trees. When he finally spent his mirth, he said, “While your explanation is enlightening, I was asking about Cecily of Glynnson—your intended wife.”
Bryce silently cursed his own rampant stupidity. With any luck, the flesh wound on his side would fester until it eventually killed him. That would be the only relief he’d ever have against what would surely become Jared’s constant reminders about this conversation.
Even though it was far too late to save his dignity, Bryce ground out, “Lady Cecily is well.”
“But obviously not as memorable as Marianne of Faucon.”
No one would be as memorable as Faucon’s sister. He didn’t voice that opinion. Instead, Bryce offered, “Cecily is a lady in every sense of the word.” That much was true. She’d been raised to fill her position in life as some man’s wife. There was no doubt that she could easily oversee any domestic aspect of a keep, or castle. For the most part, not counting her bouts of whining, complaining, or her short temper, she knew her place.
“I am not at all certain I would want that type of lady for my wife.” Jared slid him a look that Bryce recognized as a coming challenge. “Would not someone bold and curious be of more…comfort…than someone who always knew their place?”
“Comfort?” Sometimes acting dull-witted could prove useful. Bryce was certain this was one of those times. “I would think that having a wife capable of overseeing the day-to-day running of my keep would be quite a comfort.”
“If you had a keep to oversee.” Jared snorted at his unnecessary reminder of the total destruction at Ashforde. “Perhaps comfort was the wrong word, but you know full well I was not referring to domestic duties.”
“Aye.” It wasn’t as if Bryce hadn’t wondered the same thing—would Lady Cecily’s strict upbringing allow her to experience passion or desire?
An unfair question to be sure, one he hadn’t given a thought until this day. They’d not been permitted so much as a heartbeat alone. Although, some of the blame for that lack lay at his feet. After he’d witnessed her screaming at a servant for spilling a drop of wine on the linen table cover, he’d not pursued any time alone with Cecily. For all he knew, she could be the most passionate woman alive. But he doubted if that’d prove true.
As far as he could tell, when servants weren’t involved, Cecily was well-mannered and controlled to the point of boredom. The only time he saw any passion flicker behind her eyes was when they’d discussed his holdings. Never once did she turn a look of desire, or even simple interest toward him.
At least not in the way Marianne of Faucon looked at him. Bryce’s pulse quickened. While he hadn’t bedded countless women, he had enough experience to recognize what he saw in Marianne’s eyes. He’d seen the interest, the curiosity and the thoughtful measuring of his worth.
He’d also witnessed the change from initial attraction to a nearly spellbinding desire. And that is where the danger lay—in acknowledging that unbidden desire. It would be an easy thing to use her inexperience and desire against her. It would also be less than honorable. But had Faucon thought of honor when he’d set fires to Ashforde?
Jared shook his head. “‘Tis obvious this Faucon woman has already cast her wiles about you. Perhaps you should consider delivering her to Carisbrooke before it’s too late.”
“She has cast nothing about me and I’ll not give her over to Baldwin’s care.”
“So that’s the way of it? Have you signed the betrothal document yet?”
“No. I will. Soon.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “You best make a decision before permanently tying yourself to Glynnson.”
“The two are not related. Faucon’s sister is nothing more than a means for revenge. She has no influence on my coming betrothal to Cecily.” Bryce shrugged. “Even if she did, Empress Matilda will never permit me to back out of this marriage.”
Jared rose, then looked down at him. “Enough gold will send Empress Matilda hunting another husband for Lady Cecily before your unpledged betrothal is forgotten.”
“And what of the lady herself? Does she not deserve a measure of honor from her intended?”
“What do you deserve?” Jared nodded toward the path leading to the stream. “What better revenge than to steal this woman’s heart and loyalty away from her brother?”
“She is little more than an untried girl.”
“Girl?” Another irritating grunt punctuated Jared’s question. “Have you gone blind as well as daft? She is certainly no slip of a girl. Untried perhaps, but she is a woman full-grown. Unless she plans to take the Church’s vow, the day will soon come when she leaves her family for a husband. Why not be that man?”
“I…” There were countless reasons why he could not be that man. The most obvious one rose to the fore in his mind. “When she discovers who I am and what I plan, she will kill me herself.”
“Not if her heart is securely tied to yours.”
The more thought he gave this idea the more sense it made. The desire for revenge bade him to follow through with what would be the most complete method possible. But honor warned of the danger involved.
“There is no need to make a decision this instant.” Jared lowered his voice. “Just think about it, Bryce. Think about that woman sharing your life and your bed. And think about how angry it would make the man who destroyed your keep and lands.”
A commotion from the forest snared both men’s attention. Bryce rose, drawing his sword, instantly on the alert. Then he spotted Marianne racing out of the forest before she ducked inside the tent.
Jared laughed. “I see she’s still well guarded.” He walked away adding, “I’ll join the others around the fire and leave you to your prize.”
What did she do with his men? Bryce started toward the tent when Sir John burst out of the forest.
“My Lord Ashforde!” John raced toward him, shouting. Eustace followed a little slower. Sir John had the wild-eyed look of surprise on his face. Eustace appeared more embarrassed than surprised. Both men were dripping with water.
Bryce groaned. He knew what the news was going to be before either man said another word. Somehow she’d managed to toss both men into the ice-cold water. This was his fault. He should have seen to her himself. At least she’d not taken it into her head to escape.
“My Lord, I—”
Bryce cut off Sir John’s explanation. “I will deal with this. Both of you go dry off by the fire.”
Chapter Six
Marianne awoke with a start. Something had pulled her from her dreams. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep, not when she’d been waiting for Ashforde to appear. When she’d run into the tent earlier, she’d expected Ashforde to charge in after her demanding to know what had happened at the stream.
He’d come as far as the flap. She heard his steps falter, then he turned and walked away. Immediately after that she heard more steps approach the tent. Nobody entered, but the men had taken up positions surrounding the tent.
After that, the last thing she remembered was stretching out on the pallet to await Ashforde and his rage.
Now, making as little sound as possible, she inched her hand along the hard pallet made of covers folded on the ground and wrapped her fingers around a rock she’d found at the stream. Not much of a weapon, but the smooth round rock fit her palm and would stun a man if she hit him hard enough.
She could see nothing in the blackness of the night, but she listened carefully for anything out of the ordinary. The sounds were familiar; murmurs of the men around the crackling fire—meaning they no longer guarded the tent—the evening breeze shaking