Vow of Seduction. Angela Johnson
Lord Edward,” she said, her voice riddled with anxiety.
Alex turned to her, his expression wary. “Aye, I was. But your father sent word that he wanted to see me.”
Kat shivered with premonition, knowing he was not being completely forthcoming. “And? Papa must have given you a reason for requesting your presence. I would hear it now.”
“Come, I’ll explain on the way.”
“Nay.” Kat drew up before Alex’s six-foot frame. Tall for a woman, the top of her head reached his chin. “I would hear all of it before another moment passes.”
When he looked as though he would refuse, she clutched his arm to her. Her gray eyes beseeched him. “Prithee, Alex. You must tell me. I cannot bear another moment not knowing.”
Alex tensed, his biceps straining beneath her touch. “Very well,” he said, his lips turning down in a grimace. Then he looked away, pausing, before he continued in a rush, “Lord Montclair asked me to return with all due haste, on account of his ailing health. He wishes to formalize our betrothal.” He turned, his eyes dark as midnight, his jaw clenched tight. “It shall be done this day, with our marriage to take place three years hence.”
His chill voice did not bode well for their future. Stricken, though she proudly did not reveal a quiver of distress, Kat went to retrieve Hunter.
Chapter 1
Westminster Palace, nine years later
In the year of our Lord 1276
Fourth year in the reign of King Edward I
Today was her wedding day. Kat stumbled on the flagstone floor. She clutched her cousin Sir Rand Montague’s arm tighter, quickly recovering her step. Afraid she would lose her composure should she look upon the capricious faces of the courtiers gathered in the chapel, her gaze sought her groom. Sir Luc de Joinville stood near the priest before the gilded rood screen. His smile eager and blond hair burnished bronze beneath the candlelit coronas hanging from the vaulted ceiling, Luc was handsome beyond belief.
He wore a dark green surcoate or over-tunic embroidered with gold leaves around the neck and calf-length hem. It was cinched in at the waist with a jeweled belt that emphasized his narrow hips and broad shoulders.
Hot and intimate, his gaze slid down her body and back up, meeting her eyes once more. Awe, pride, and masculine appreciation glowed in his golden eyes, the green flecks brilliant in the light. Then he flashed a smile at her, his teeth straight and white.
She raised her chin a notch higher and continued walking down the nave of the smaller, more intimate palace chapel of St. John. Breaking protocol, Luc strode forward, taking the few remaining steps between them, and commandeered her gloved hand. Without causing a tug of war, Rand could do naught but release her. Sir Luc led her back before the scowling priest, his strong clasp warm through her calfskin glove.
Shocked gasps and smothered giggles of the court were drowned out by King Edward’s booming laughter. “Father, I believe the groom is most anxious to see the ceremony completed so he might enjoy his lovely new bride. Let us proceed with alacrity, not unseemly but succinct. Shall we?”
Posed as a question, it was a command nevertheless. The disgruntled priest nodded, cleared his throat, and began the rite with the blessings of the ring.
At Edward’s ribald comment, a flush crept up Kat’s neck. She was unsure what the night would bring. Although Sir Luc’s kisses had been pleasant, they lacked the fire and excitement her body craved. But it was unfair to condemn Luc for her inadequacies. He loved her and that was more important than any temporary sexual gratification she might achieve. Lust was fleeting, as her first husband, Alex, had so readily proved.
“If anything is contrary to the law of God why this couple may not marry, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
Kat held her breath in the pause and even Sir Luc tensed beside her.
With her marriage to Sir Luc, she was one step closer to achieving her dream of having a child. Ever since her mother died giving birth to a precious male heir when Kat was five years old, she had longed to be loved for who she was. She believed having a child of her own to love and cherish would replace the emptiness she felt inside and give her life meaning. But, deep down, she feared someone or something might shatter the peace and happiness she sensed was so near.
When no one voiced dissent, Kat willed her racing heartbeat to slow. The priest continued with the ceremony.
The churchman turned to Sir Luc and asked him, “Sir Luc de Joinville, do you want this woman?”
Sir Luc, his gaze boldly holding hers, replied in a deep, clear voice, “Aye.”
“Do you wish to serve her in faith of God as your own, in health and infirmity, as a Christian man should serve his wife?”
“Aye.”
The priest turned to Kat. The heat and musky smell of incense was overpowering as perspiration trickled down her cleavage. “Lady Katherine de Beaumont, do you want this man?”
Kat did not hesitate. “Aye,” she replied to both questions. She had no qualms about her decision to marry Sir Luc. Indeed, Luc’s devotion to her and no other, along with his desire to have children, would assure their lasting happiness. He would never abandon her, as had every other person she had ever cared about.
Next, the priest inquired, “Who giveth this woman in Holy Matrimony to this man?”
Rand stepped forward and took her right hand—her palm was damp inside her glove. “I do, Sir Rand Montague.” Giving her hand an encouraging squeeze, he placed it in the priest’s hands.
The doors at the back of the chapel crashed open, shattering the reverent silence. Kat cried out and spun around, even as the whole court turned to gape at the madman who charged inside.
Wearing a dirty, tattered hooded cloak, the intruder paused just beyond the threshold. Though the voluminous hood concealed the man’s face except for the untamed black beard he sported, Kat sensed his penetrating stare upon her. A curl of fear rose up her spine. Feeling trapped, hunted, she did not move or even breathe. Then the man surged forward.
“Guards, seize him,” Edward shouted.
The frozen guards posted at the door belatedly charged forward and grabbed the cloaked intruder by the arms.
He struggled in their grip, hauling the men forward with the strength of his fury. Men and women tripped over each other as they scrambled to get away from the resulting scuffle. Beside Kat, Luc wrapped a strong arm around her and drew her close. Rand charged down the nave to aid the guards.
“Release me,” roared a deep, vibrating voice. “I demand to see King Edward.”
A shiver of awareness raised the hairs on her arms; the voice was strangely familiar. Before she could place to whom it belonged, Rand approached the stranger, who immediately stopped struggling. The air laden with a hushed expectancy, a brief exchange of words ensued between Rand and the intruder. Then suddenly, the two men embraced, slapping each other on the back and laughing as the confused and muttering crowd watched on.
Kat, meanwhile, felt a murmur of unease—an instinctual response she had learned to heed after the debacle of her first marriage.
The king, his face livid, brushed past her and Sir Luc and strode down the nave towards Rand. “What is the meaning of this? Who dares to invade the sanctity of the Lord’s house and disrupt these proceedings? I could have you brought up on charges of treason,” he thundered.
Kat wanted to know the answer to that question, too. But Queen Eleanor and her ladies-in-waiting—Kat’s sister-in-law, Rose, among them—crowded past and blocked her view of the king. Luc’s arm tightened around her shoulders and she looked up. His smile gone, unease dimmed his eyes to tarnished gold.
He quickly composed his features. With a brief, reassuring smile, he held his