Medieval Brides. Anne Herries
laugh. ‘Oh, dear girl, of course you can’t replace Gwenn. No, don’t pull away—listen. Gwenn was Gwenn, and you are you. But don’t think I don’t love you. I do.’ Aware his fingers were boring into her shoulders, he slackened his grip and took a deep breath. ‘I love you, Cecily. I will never stop loving Gwenn. She was part of me, but she is in the past. You are my present. You are my future. You have become the wife of my heart. When you are not with me I ache to see you. When you are with me I long…’ He grinned. ‘You know what I long to do.’
Her blue eyes were fixed on him, soft and warm and loving. ‘Truly? It is not just carnal love?’
‘Truly. I love you.’ The look in her eyes made his bones melt. Cecily, his princess—his. Only now was he beginning to believe it.
‘Your brother will live here,’ he said, while he could still think. ‘And when he is older, if he wishes, I will sponsor him to become a squire. After that…’He shrugged. ‘The rest is up to him. His life will be his to make of what he wills.’
‘Oh, Adam.’ She offered him her lips. ‘Kiss me.’
Drawing her to him, he took the taste of her deep into his mouth, savoured it, wondered how he had ever lived without it.
‘Butterflies again,’ she murmured, her tone edged with wonder.
‘Butterflies?’
Shifting slightly, she pressed his hand to her belly. ‘Here. When you kiss me, butterflies start to dance here—countless butterflies, more than the stars.’
‘And that is a good thing?’
Gentle fingertips caressed his cheek, outlined his mouth, left fire in their wake. ‘Yes, indeed. And sometimes when you touch me…the merest hint of a touch…’ She sighed. ‘It is most strange.’
He reached for her girdle, smiled as simultaneously she reached for the tie at his waist. ‘It is the same for me.’
‘Really? We must be very odd. Adam…?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Tell me you love me one more time…’
‘Cecily, I love you. You are the sun and the moon to me. You are my soul…Will that do?’
Smiling, she fell back onto the bed. A small hand reached up to draw him close. ‘It will…for the time being…’
Shivering with delight as her hands ran up and down his back, he gestured at the bedside candle. ‘Do you want this out?’
‘No, my love. From tonight there will be no more dark secrets.’
Smiling, he caught her to him and brought his lips urgently to hers.
His wife was pregnant. It could not be his child.
He put his hand out on the wall to steady himself.
She had cuckolded him. She had given herself to another man and now bore proof of her sin. Humiliation and dishonor would once more be his and his family’s to bear because of her. Everything within him screamed for vengeance.
Unanswered questions burned through his mind. Then the plan behind this struck him. Queen Eleanor had definitely plotted this. Her words on their wedding night came back to him. There will be no repudiation of this marriage by either of you.
But Emalie. What had been her part in this? Who had she lain with? Whose baby did she carry now?
He almost laughed at the irony. He had sold his soul to regain his honor and now stood to lose it anyway, once the truth was known….
Praise for new Mills & Boon Historical author Terri Brisbin
“A lavish historical romance in the grand tradition from a wonderful talent.”
—New York Times bestselling author Bertrice Small on Once Forbidden
“A welcome new voice in romance…you won’t want to miss.”
—USA TODAY bestselling author Susan Wiggs
“Terri Brisbin writes with her own unique, sweet, lyrical style.”
—Romantic Times
“…lush narrative, crisp dialogue and powerful descriptions. Medieval Scotland comes to life under the skillful storytelling of Terri Brisbin.”
—Rendezvous on A Love through Time
This book is for Walt and Rose—the real Sir Walter and Lady Rosalie—for the years of friendship and support and more things forgotten than I can remember now! Hey, it’s almost like a ride….
The idea for this story came to me while listening to the music and words of “My Own Prison” by Scott Stapp and Creed. My thanks for their inspiration!
Greystone Castle
Lincolnshire, England
May 1194
Eleanor Plantagenet, Queen of England, by the wrath of God, watched as pride and anger stiffened the spine of her young ward. Although she wanted to scream out her own anger and cry tears of sorrow for the way she suspected this child had been ill-used, she did not have the luxury of either. Only action on her part would save the kingdom and possibly this girl’s life, as well. Since it was her son’s actions that had caused the damage, and since it would be that same son who would continue his pursuit until his desires were satisfied, only she could step in and circumvent his plans.
“So, Emalie,” she said, “I will ask you only once more. Give me the name of the man who has dishonored you.”
“I know not of what you speak, Your Grace.” The girl would not meet her gaze.
“I am not a fool and do not expect to be treated as one by you!” Eleanor snapped, trying to break Emalie’s calm demeanor to get to the truth. Other than a slight trembling of her clasped hands, there was no change in her expression or in her willingness to answer.
As Eleanor walked closer to the girl and prepared to ask another question, a commotion began outside the door of the solar. Rising voices and scuffling feet soon gave way to the door being thrown open as her private bodyguards made a valiant attempt to keep her son from the room. At her signal, their efforts ceased and the soldiers instead took up places on either side of the open door.
“Madam,” John said, with an arrogant nod of his head as he sauntered to where she stood. “You are looking well this fine day.” John tilted his head down and touched a cool kiss to her cheek. She fought the urge to shiver at the dangerous, slippery tone of his voice and look in his eyes. ’Twas at times like these she wondered how she had ever birthed and raised a viper like this.
“I gave orders not to be disturbed. Those orders were intended to give us some measure of privacy for our discussion.” She rose to her full height and faced him with her truth. “Those orders were to keep you out until I bade you enter.”
“Ah,” he said, reaching out to Emalie and grasping her hand. “The ever-fair Lady Emalie Montgomerie…” John leaned over and pressed his lips to the girl’s knuckles. He purposely allowed Eleanor a glimpse of his tongue touching the top of Emalie’s hand. Not quite as practiced at ignoring her son’s vile habits as she herself was, Emalie recoiled from his grasp and tucked her hands tightly at her side. The girl turned an even paler shade