Tori Phillips Read Online Free Page B

rendered in jewel colors and bright gilding.
    A book of romance and troubadour songs. Strange devotions for a well-bred young girl to read, especially within the walls of a holy monastery. Guy knew he should turn away in disgust. Every moment that he lingered in the shadows of the archway only heightened the danger to his vows.
    Her hands fluttered over the cat like two butterflies in the sun. A sudden breeze threatened to lift the velvet French coif from her head. Guy caught himself wishing it would. He swore under his breath, then, aghast at what he had just said, whispered a hurried prayer after his oath.
    By the Holy Grail, what was happening to him? Who was this creature but yet another one of those empty-headed females whom he sought to escape once and for all time behind these gray stone walls? He had had enough of women in all shapes, sizes, social orders and states of undress in the past twelve years to convince himself that not one of them was worth a groat.
    Ever since Anne Boleyn had caught the king’s roving eye, Great Harry’s lust had doomed to extinction whatever shreds of honor and virtue still lingered in the corners of Westminster Palace. Guy counted himself well out of it. Now, when he least expected it, temptation played in the October sunshine. And his body—not to mention his very soul—responded like a starving man at a feast. Angrily he stalked toward the herb garden, taking care that he made no noise to attract the attention of those fascinating violet eyes.
    Not even the bewitched Jeremiah looked up.
     
    “What?” Guy sputtered, breaking into a sweat, though the evening air was cool. He cast a sidelong glance at Brother Cuthbert, who stood behind the prior’s chair. No trace of humor glinted in the older man’s gray eyes. Guy considered throwing himself to his knees, but thought the gesture might seem too dramatic within the confines of the prior’s office. “I pray you, Father, do not lay this burden on me!”
    Father Jocelyn barely hid his smile. “How now? A burden? I should think you would welcome a chance to get out and enjoy the countryside. Mother Nature has trimmed herself in her best finery before cruel winter’s onslaught. ’Twould only be for a few weeks.”
    “But why me?” Guy raked his fingers through the fringes of his thick blond hair. “I am only a novice. Perhaps it would be better for someone who has already taken his vows to go—someone who has been here a long time and would like a short holiday.” He glanced over to Brother Cuthbert.
    Father Jocelyn coughed behind his hand. “Perhaps, but I think you are the best choice, Brother Guy. You understand French, and you know the lay of the land well. Northumberland is your home, is it not?”
    Guy swallowed with difficulty. “Aye, Father, but...”
    The prior held up his hand for silence. Guy bowed his head, though he could feel his heart thumping uncomfortably under his robe.
    “Lady Celeste has already experienced a most difficult journey. In faith, I am tempted to return her to her home, but the lady won’t hear of it.”
    Guy looked up, raising one brow in question. Obviously, the girl hadn’t a sensible bone in her body.
    “She tells me that her family’s honor demands that she go on, come rack or ruin—which I fear may happen at the rate she is proceeding.”
    “But, Father...”
    The prior continued as if he hadn’t heard Guy’s disrespectful interruption. “Now that her aunt must stay behind, Lady Celeste needs some sort of chaperon, and that, Brother Guy, you will provide. No one will think it amiss if they see her traveling in the company of a priest.”
    “Priest!” Guy erupted. He had never intended to take holy orders. He wasn’t worthy—not after the hell-bent life he had led. “Father, I am the furthest thing from the priesthood.”
    Father Jocelyn gently shook his head in silent reproof. “It matters not what you truly are, so long as you are what you seem to be. To the world you