The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

father, which he did not. His hands were tied and he knew it. Purging himself from the innards of Spelthorne’s powerful keep, he made his way to the stables with Colton on his heels.
    “Did you hear me?” the young knight called after him. “She may very well be a nice girl and if you leave, you will be insulting her for nothing. Is this really how you want to start off your marriage?”
    Lucien came to an abrupt halt and Colton nearly smashed into the back of him. “Enough,” Lucien snarled, holding up an angry finger. “Give me time to digest this situation. I do not need your ridiculous chatter. You are making me angry.”
    Colton stepped back, trying very hard not to smile. Lucien wasn’t beyond throwing a punch when riled and the man had a devastating blow. “I am sorry,” Colton said contritely. “I am simply trying to help you see the entire situation, not simply your perspective alone. I do not want you to anger Henry and I do not want you insulting your future relations. They will think you a cad and a boor, and you are neither of those things.”
    Lucien pursed his lips irritably; the lad was right and he knew it. He took a deep breath, struggling for calm.
    “I will not insult anyone,” he said, less anger in his tone. “I simply want to clear my head and think. If the lady and her father arrive while I am gone, you will simply tell them I had business to attend to and apologize for my absence. But say no more; make them comfortable and I will return… when I feel like it.”
    Colton couldn’t help but chuckle, then. He watched Lucien march off towards the stables, wisely choosing not to follow him. He’d already pressed his liege as much as he was willing. In truth, he could do no more. The rest was up to Lucien.
    In spite of what he’d told Colton, Lucien wasn’t entirely sure he would return at all. As he made his way into the stables for his horse, he found that he was quite willing to forsake all of this simply to be free of an unwanted marriage. He’d built Spelthorne Castle into a great military might but he wasn’t beyond abandoning it. His freedom and his sanity meant more to him than a few blocks of stone did. Well… not really, perhaps. But his convictions sounded good in theory.
    So he had the stable master saddle his big dappled rouncey, the one with the big arse and hairy hooves. It was a formidable beast, one he’d traveled with and taken into battle innumerable times. He had several chargers, temperamental and powerful beasts, but he preferred the company of his old friend, Storm. He and Storm thought alike, acted alike. In fact, the big horse greeted Lucien like an old friend, nuzzling him, licking his shoulder and neck, until Lucien gently pushed the big horse’s head away and vaulted into the saddle.
    Thundering out from the big gatehouse of Spelthorne, Lucien headed south under fair skies and moderate winds. It was a warm day, breezy, and as he gently rode along the countryside, he could feel his stress easing. Surely nothing could be so terrible on a glorious day like this. The road wasn’t particularly bad, as the summer season hadn’t been terribly wet, so the ground upon which Storm trod was even and dry. The big horse lifted his hooves in a prancing way as he loped, his hairy tufts on his legs waving in the breeze along with his big silver tail. He was happy to be out and about.
    So was Lucien. He felt much like the horse, happy to flee Spelthorne for the moment. The place belonged to him and as much as it was his refuge, it was also his hell. He thought on his prospective new wife and what she would mean to his way of life. He thought of his daughter who, at ten years of age, ruled the house and hold, but not in a good way. Perhaps in a sense, he was running from her, too.
    She was, in a word, a terror.
    Susanna Isobelle de Reyne de Russe had been born with a weak spine and legs as the result of a difficult birth, a birth that had killed her mother. Susanna was