Arucard (Brethren Origins Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

a husband and a wife.  Naught on the battlefield could have prepared him for such a predicament.  He was a Templar Knight, a creature of habit, and a no-nonsense man who preferred an equally staid existence.  In the end, he knew only one way to live.
    Pray.
    Eat.
    Weapons practice.
    Repeat.
    Then retire.
    And thither was no vacancy for a woman.
    “Brothers, I fear we have secured our freedom on very hard terms.”  With a terrible grimace, Morgan scratched his cheek.  “Very hard terms.”
    “I fear we shall all be expected to wed,” Geoffrey added.
    “Not on thy soul,” Demetrius said with an air of cold determination.
    “Never.” Aristide pressed a clenched fist to his chest.  “I should sooner end my own life than take a wife.  Regardless of what the English believe, no one shall convince me, not even the King, that a matrimonial commitment is worth eternal damnation.”
    Perchance now was not an appropriate time to tell his brother knights that, indeed, the King had commanded just that, Arucard pondered in silence.  The shock of his imminent nuptials had yet to wear thin, and the road ahead would be paved with similar hardship and resignation, he suspected.  His marriage to Isolde was just the beginning.
    “Found it!”  Demetrius stood, clutching the tattered captain’s log.  “Gather round, brothers.”
    In desperate need of distraction, Arucard extended a hand, palm down, and his fellow Nautionnier Knights followed suit, one atop the other, forming a tight bond forged of blood, flesh, and bone.  “Brothers, we have fought the good fight, but we have lost the first skirmish.  Yet, despite those who would wish otherwise, we survive.  Mighty England is now our home, and her King is now our commander, but our destinies belong to us, and we shall not sink into the annals of history, remembered only by our dishonor.  From this day forward, let it be known that the Templars remain, though mayhap by another name.  We art the Brethren of the Coast.  As our Heavenly Father is my witness, in times of war and chaos, we will be revered and feared.”
    A roar of concurrence erupted, and from the surrounding woods the strident cry of some nocturnal beast echoed in agreement.  Amid a crescent of oaks, beneath the stars, by the light of a fire, the Knights of the Brethren proclaimed their own oath.  It was a promise written by men long dead but not forgotten.
    Love, honor, and devotion were the beginning of our Order.  Bonds of kinship and friendship, all-important.  We uphold these principles embrace for embrace, desire for desire, for one, for all.  For King and Country we stand, for love and comradeship we live.
     

CHAPTER TWO
     
    Stifled beneath the heavy gown of blue, the traditional color of purity, with the complimenting wimple and bejeweled veil secured by an identical pair of quatrefoil pins, Isolde gasped for breath as the family carriage came to a halt before the east entrance of Westminster Abbey.  Seated in the squabs across from her, and ignoring her as he had over breakfast, her father gazed out the window and frowned.  When the footman opened the door, the earl descended and then turned to help her down.
    A canopy of gray clouds blocked the sun’s rays, so the afternoon was dreary and cold, which matched her mood.  The previous day’s beating, unusually brutal and lengthy, had left her back covered in raw welts and open cuts, and she fought uncharacteristic weakness, because it had been years since the discipline incapacitated her.  Given the weight of the plush velvet garment, in combination with the scarf that obscured her vision, she tripped.
    “Watch thy step, clumsy girl.”  Father squeezed hard on her arm, and she winced.  “If thou dost shame me, I will—”
    “Aye, Father.”  As she gained her footing, she clenched her teeth against the searing sting from her fresh wounds.  “Thou hast made thy position quite clear, and I bear thy reminder, so thou mayest