Captured by the Warrior Read Online Free
Author: MERIEL FULLER
uncontrollably against her ribs. His mouth roamed against hers, wild, plundering; she crumpled against him, knees suddenly weak. Her mind scrambled, his lips luring her, drawing her towards the edge of a plunging abyss, a whispering place of tantalising promise, of…
‘Alice! Where are you? Alice…?’ A peevish, wheedling voice drifted over from the other side of the forest, calling.
Bastien tore himself away, breath ragged.
Alice reeled backwards, shaking, dazed. Senses shredded, she managed to lift one trembling finger towards Bastien, eyes hot with indignant accusation. ‘How dare you!’ she screeched at him, her mouth carrying the hot bruise of his kiss, her cheeks flushed with shame. ‘You insufferable pig! You tell me you’ll reprimand your men, and then you take advantage yourself! How dare you!’
‘Steady yourself, my lady.’ Bastien regarded her tensely. In truth, he was having trouble calming himself. He tipped his head on one side, listening. ‘Someone’s searching for you; go now.’
The deep cerulean pools of her eyes lobbed him one last stinging look, before she turned, stumbling away through the undergrowth towards her mother’s voice, veil sitting askew on her head.
‘Dear Lord, I thought she’d never stop!’ muttered one of his soldiers. ‘What a shame on such a beauty.’
Bastien followed the maid’s slender back retreating through the trees, her sparkling skirts flowing over the mossy ground. As soon as she was out of his sight, he told himself, he would forget her completely; women had no part to play in his life, especially bossy, unbearable girls who scarce came up to his shoulder. Women were of no importance, in his opinion. Not after what had happened with Katherine.
Chapter Two
A lice swept her eyes around the great hall at Abberley. Aye, it was all still there: the sumptuous intricacy of the huge tapestries hanging from floor to ceiling, concealing the uneven stone walls; the high dais at the far end where the King and Queen and their attending nobility sat above the murmured hubbub of people gathered together to eat. Pausing in the doorway, Alice attempted to draw some comfort from the familiar surroundings, but her perception seemed tarnished, different, somehow. She knew why—a pair of emerald-green eyes and a shock of tousled blond hair loomed with unnerving regularity across her vision, unsettling her normal confidence. Aye, and that kiss. That treacherous kiss.
Light filled the space, spilling out from a combination of rush torches slung into iron brackets along the walls, and a roaring fire. Soldiers and servants alike crammed along the wooden trestles in the main body of the hall, knives jamming into the large serving platters of steaming roast meat. There was Queen Margaret, hersmall neat head held erect and proud as she listened to a nobleman at her side, her eyes wide and intelligent as she nodded in agreement once or twice. The height of the table obscured the round smooth bump of her pregnancy. Alice liked the young Queen, drawn by Margaret’s ambition and vitality; it was said that she had enough energy for both herself and her husband. Of King Henry, there was no sign. He had recently become unwell, and was confined to his chambers to recover.
‘Alice!’ A fresh-faced young man moved across her line of vision. Edmund! A sense of relief flooded through her, his jovial expression for a moment shutting out her unpleasant memories of the journey. ‘Alice, did you not see me waving? I saved you a place beside me over there!’ His open, candid features searched her face.
She laid a careful hand on his arm, allowing him to lead her around the edges of the hall to an empty table, mindful that her mother was up on the top table, and would be watching. Maybe if Beatrice saw her with Edmund, it would shake off her mother’s current mood. When Alice had finally returned to the cart in the forest, Beatrice had been furious, berating her for keeping the entourage
‘Alice! Where are you? Alice…?’ A peevish, wheedling voice drifted over from the other side of the forest, calling.
Bastien tore himself away, breath ragged.
Alice reeled backwards, shaking, dazed. Senses shredded, she managed to lift one trembling finger towards Bastien, eyes hot with indignant accusation. ‘How dare you!’ she screeched at him, her mouth carrying the hot bruise of his kiss, her cheeks flushed with shame. ‘You insufferable pig! You tell me you’ll reprimand your men, and then you take advantage yourself! How dare you!’
‘Steady yourself, my lady.’ Bastien regarded her tensely. In truth, he was having trouble calming himself. He tipped his head on one side, listening. ‘Someone’s searching for you; go now.’
The deep cerulean pools of her eyes lobbed him one last stinging look, before she turned, stumbling away through the undergrowth towards her mother’s voice, veil sitting askew on her head.
‘Dear Lord, I thought she’d never stop!’ muttered one of his soldiers. ‘What a shame on such a beauty.’
Bastien followed the maid’s slender back retreating through the trees, her sparkling skirts flowing over the mossy ground. As soon as she was out of his sight, he told himself, he would forget her completely; women had no part to play in his life, especially bossy, unbearable girls who scarce came up to his shoulder. Women were of no importance, in his opinion. Not after what had happened with Katherine.
Chapter Two
A lice swept her eyes around the great hall at Abberley. Aye, it was all still there: the sumptuous intricacy of the huge tapestries hanging from floor to ceiling, concealing the uneven stone walls; the high dais at the far end where the King and Queen and their attending nobility sat above the murmured hubbub of people gathered together to eat. Pausing in the doorway, Alice attempted to draw some comfort from the familiar surroundings, but her perception seemed tarnished, different, somehow. She knew why—a pair of emerald-green eyes and a shock of tousled blond hair loomed with unnerving regularity across her vision, unsettling her normal confidence. Aye, and that kiss. That treacherous kiss.
Light filled the space, spilling out from a combination of rush torches slung into iron brackets along the walls, and a roaring fire. Soldiers and servants alike crammed along the wooden trestles in the main body of the hall, knives jamming into the large serving platters of steaming roast meat. There was Queen Margaret, hersmall neat head held erect and proud as she listened to a nobleman at her side, her eyes wide and intelligent as she nodded in agreement once or twice. The height of the table obscured the round smooth bump of her pregnancy. Alice liked the young Queen, drawn by Margaret’s ambition and vitality; it was said that she had enough energy for both herself and her husband. Of King Henry, there was no sign. He had recently become unwell, and was confined to his chambers to recover.
‘Alice!’ A fresh-faced young man moved across her line of vision. Edmund! A sense of relief flooded through her, his jovial expression for a moment shutting out her unpleasant memories of the journey. ‘Alice, did you not see me waving? I saved you a place beside me over there!’ His open, candid features searched her face.
She laid a careful hand on his arm, allowing him to lead her around the edges of the hall to an empty table, mindful that her mother was up on the top table, and would be watching. Maybe if Beatrice saw her with Edmund, it would shake off her mother’s current mood. When Alice had finally returned to the cart in the forest, Beatrice had been furious, berating her for keeping the entourage
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