A Lady's Charade (Medieval Romance Novel) Read Online Free Page B

did she dare to do?
    Her creamy white skin glowed in the night. The moonlight from without, and candlelight from within her room, cascaded around her, creating a halo. She looked every bit the delicious angel. Could it be a sin to feel such need to stroke the skin of an angel?
    Alexander’s armor suddenly felt too constrictive as his body hardened. His skin began to sizzle as lust coursed through his veins. Perhaps it was from the knowledge this woman could be his forever.
    Was it possible the raving beauty staring down at him was Lady Chloe Fergusson? It was probably too good to be true, but if it were she, at least one good thing would come out of this. He would have a pretty little wench by his side. And from the looks of her, she was a feisty, sensual woman.
    He lifted his face plate to get a better look at the vision before him. His body now on fire, was oblivious to the cool wind which swept into the front of his helmet and down his neck.
    He lifted his sword and pointed at the beauty. He wanted to let her know she would be his. He felt possessive now. She would be his and his alone.
    “You are mine!” Alexander roared over the walls of the castle.
    He could not tell whether she heard his words or not. But he knew she’d seen him, was looking at him, watching him as he watched her. Blood pumped through his veins.
    Then she was gone, leaving his body burning with a fever of possession and lust. Alexander felt powerful sitting there, knowing that although the castle was vast and filled with many, he would overthrow it. He would obtain it. He would have the people bow down to him.
    He would have her.
    ****
    Fear consumed her.
    Hand flattened to her chest, Chloe pressed her back to the cold stone wall. She let the curtain fall from her grasp, and it billowed in the late fall wind. Crisp air blew softly over her skin. And yes, her flesh was raised, but not from the chill—from fright.
    She dared look again through the slit.
    Warriors, clad in shining metal armor filled the space beyond the castle walls. Trebuchets at the ready. Just as she’d suspected, they’d come back for what was theirs. One knight, mightier than the others took her breath away. She felt possessed by him, and yet all he’d done was point—the light from the moon glinting off the end of his sword and the dragon carved on his shield. The skin on her chest tingled as if the very tip of that blade had touched her, even pierced her, just the tiniest of nicks. She patted frantically at her chest for blood, even knowing that she wouldn’t find any.
    What had her father done?
    She may have been a woman of tender age, but even at eighteen she knew right from wrong and a lie from the truth.
    Judging from the onslaught of military might hailing at them from beyond the castle walls, South Hearth did not belong free and clear to the Fergusson clan as announced by her father.
    The English were claiming it back.
    Her chest heaved with labored breaths. Her heart raced a staccato inside her chest. Between the two she was sure her ribs would burst at any moment. South Hearth had been her childhood home. She could almost here her father as he’d ranted at supper that evening, “ One day, when I am gone, you and your husband will rule the Fergusson clan, and South Hearth shall remain in Scots hands, not bloody English scum!” Her father had the best of intentions for the clan, she was sure. He was more of a man of action rather than thought. And on more than one occasion she was clear he cared more for himself and his reputation than her future. Trying to claim back South Hearth would only create a lifetime of struggle for her as a leader. But then again, he wanted her to marry his second in command, so perhaps he didn’t fear that she’d have to deal with it, but her husband. But she’d made a decision that afternoon by the pond. For as long as she could, she would refuse his wishes. Not even if they dragged her bound and gagged to the altar would she marry