Forbidden Lord Read Online Free Page B

of no consequence to me. It offends me beyond measure to have you strut into my hall when I am entertaining my guests.’
    â€˜The occasion being?’
    â€˜My daughter’s wedding day,’ Frederick flung at him smugly. A slight narrowing of his eyes was William’s only reaction. What went on behind his cold visage Frederick could only guess at.
    Understanding dawned on William. ‘Ah! So that is the reason for the celebration.’ He shifted his gaze to Catherine, who was staring at him with an expression of stunned disbelief and was as white as a sheet. She was still holding the loving cup she had just shared with Henry. He smiled broadly and, removing his dripping hat, bowed his dark head politely.
    â€˜I always knew you would make a beautiful bride, Catherine—I remember telling you so—but a marriage between us was not to be. I rejoice to see you well, and may I take this opportunity to congratulate you.’ His gaze took in the man at her side. ‘Both of you. I wish you every happiness.’
    From where Eleanor sat, her gaze encompassed her stepfather and the intruder. The strange atmosphere that threaded these two people together made her uneasy. It was as tangible as the air she breathed, and as mysterious as the strange gleam in Lord Marston’s eye. As he moved closer to her stepfather, entirely assured, he emanated an angry vigour. There was arrogance and a certain insolence in the lift of his head and in the relaxed way in which he moved.
    He was a man of impressive stature, tall and lean and as straight as an arrow with a whipcord strength that promised toughness, and, even in her predicament, she could not help but admire the fine figure he made. His curly dark brown hair sprang thickly, vibrantly, from his head and curled about his neck, a few threads of silver gracing his temples. He wasclean-shaven, his dark-complexioned face slashed with two black brows. His chin was juttingly arrogant and hard, his mouth firm, hinting at stubbornness that could, she thought, prove dangerous, making him a difficult opponent if pushed too far. Yet there were laughter lines at the corners that bespoke humour. But it was his eyes that held Eleanor. They were compelling, silver-grey and vibrant in the midst of so much uncompromising darkness, and they were settled on her stepfather, watchful and mocking.
    â€˜Have a care what you accuse me of, Marston,’ Frederick uttered, his face hardened into a mask of icy wrath. ‘You are a traitor and deserved to die along with the rest, and should you have returned from wherever it is you’ve been hiding these past three years before Queen Mary’s demise, then your disobedience might have resulted in a long term of imprisonment in the Tower or the removal of your head.’ His righteous display of anger fairly bounced off the walls.
    The guests listened and stared in unbridled curiosity, leaning their heads together as they exchanged whispered comments. All eyes were on William, the gentlemen wondering how he had the audacity to come back so cocksure of himself after so long an absence, the ladies thanking God for the return of his handsome face. He didn’t look worried; if anything, he looked supremely confident.
    William’s firm lips curved in a lopsided grin. ‘I doubt Queen Elizabeth will call for my blood.’
    â€˜Aye, the Queen has a penchant for attractive young men,’ Frederick uttered with scathing sarcasm. ‘Your sort will always find favour at the Court of Elizabeth—where, I suspect, you will idle your days dancing attendance on her, for it is only at Court where position is to be granted, offices to be won, and money to be made.’
    â€˜The pursuit of wealth and position is a weakness in a man, which you should know all about, being prey to it yourself.’
    Seeing the vivid alarm showing in Catherine’s eyes andstartled by the flood of emotion on her face, bristling with