Connie Mason Read Online Free Page A

do you know he is impoverished?” Thelma asked.
    “I do not, really; ’tis just a guess.”
    “Oh, here comes Lord Waldo. He probably wishes a private word with you before the banquet tonight,” Thelma said, scurrying off to join a group of servants at the well.
    Raven’s distaste was obvious as she waited for Waldo to reach her. He was a hulking bear of a man with a barrel chestand short, sturdy legs. He was not overly tall, or excessively fat, but his square frame exuded strength and authority.
    “Did you wish to speak with me, my lord?”
    “Aye,” Waldo said. “There has been little time for us to talk since I returned to Chirk for the tourney and wedding ceremony. Soon you will be mine, Raven of Chirk. I have waited a long time for you. I married Daria to please your father, and for her dowry, but ’tis you I wanted, you I desired. I was pleased when Aric of Flint died and freed you to marry me. I persuaded Duff not to betroth you to another during the years the pope considered my petition asking for permission to wed you. You have to admit I was more patient than most, Raven.”
    Raven stiffened. “You know this marriage is not to my liking. ’Tis not right. ’Tis incest to marry your dead wife’s sister.”
    “I waited many years for a dispensation from the pope,” Waldo said harshly. “You are well past the age when most girls marry, but I still find you desirable. I will not be denied, Raven of Chirk.”
    Raven flinched as he lifted a bright tendril of chestnut-colored hair from her shoulder and let it trail through his fingers. “ ’Tis like living fire, just like you, Raven. Not pallid and lifeless like Daria. You would not lie beneath me like a log, with a long-suffering look on your face. Even if you do not like me, you will be more animated than Daria.” He leered at her. “Mayhap it is good that you do not like me. A little spirit in a woman is not a bad thing.”
    Raven bristled angrily. “How dare you speak of Daria in such an insulting manner! My sister is dead; she deserved better than you.”
    “Mayhap you would prefer a man like the Black Knight.”
    “Mayhap I would,” Raven responded angrily. “Anyone would be better than you.”
    Waldo grinned. “Your fire, your spirit—’tis what I like bestabout you, Raven. Taming you will give me great pleasure. As for the Black Knight, forget him. He devours women. ’Tis said he discards women quickly after he has taken his pleasure of them.”
    Raven’s interest was immediately piqued. “How do you know?”
    “We both fought at Crécy, though we never had occasion to meet. He was the Black Prince’s champion and protected his back. Duff and I were merely knights fighting in the king’s army. But tales of his prowess with the ladies are legendary throughout France and England.”
    “Have you ever seen him without his helm?”
    “Nay, though I have known damsels who have and vow he is quite handsome, in a dangerous sort of way.” He gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Why do you ask? ’Tis not seemly for a bride to think of any man except her betrothed.”
    “All the servants are talking about the Black Knight, and I was curious. Has he no name?”
    “None that I know of.” His face hardened, making him almost ugly. “Forget about the Black Knight. Should he un-seat all his opponents during the course of the tourney, he will still have to defeat me to win the purse Duff has promised to the champion. No one has ever unseated me,” Waldo boasted. “The purse will be mine.”
    Raven said naught as she took her leave. But deep in her heart she prayed that the Black Knight thoroughly trounced Earl Waldo of Eyre.
    The Black Knight had ridden confidently into the inner bailey until something made him glance up at the tower window. Then he’d seen a flash of rich chestnut hair and knew she was watching him. Beneath his black helm his face had hardened and his lips had curled in contempt.
    Raven of Chirk.
    Just the thought of her