The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch Read Online Free Page A

as—”
    A sound on the far side of the chamber
startled her and she froze.
    Turning only her head, she peered into the
blackness, almost certain she had heard the door open. But the
chamber remained utterly dark, silent. It must have been a mouse
scrabbling through the ancient walls. Surely no one would dare
enter the king’s solar without knocking. “Is someone there?”
    No one answered. And she could see no
movement in the darkness.
    But even as she rose, even as she told
herself she was being foolish, she heard the sound again—and ‘twas
no mouse.
    “Who are you?” she cried, backing away until
her spine came up against the hard stone of the wall. “I demand
that you answer me!”
    “Do not fear, milady.”
    It was a male voice. Quiet. Rasping. The
accent was that of an uneducated peasant. Her heart slowed. It must
be some servant from the feast. Mayhap the knave was inebriated and
looking for a garderobe. “Do you realize where you are, sirrah? You
have wandered into the king’s solar.”
    He did not reply.
    And she heard him moving closer.
    Her heart started to pound again. Faster. He
stood between her and the door. The only exit. And she could still
hear music being played in the great hall.
    So loud that no one would hear her if she
screamed.
    “Heed me well, whoever you may be,” she
snapped, forcing any hint of fear from her voice, “do you have any idea who I am?”
    “Aye, Princess.”
    Icy claws of fear sank into her middle. Her
thoughts started to race. She slid along the wall, away from the
window, into the shadows. What should she do?
    “I am sorry for the intrusion, Your
Highness,” he murmured in that gravel-rough voice, only a few paces
from her now, close enough that she could make out his burly
shape.
    “What do you want?” She felt behind her for
a truncheon, a weapon. Something. Anything.
    All she had was the slender book in one hand
and the dented crown in her other.
    He was almost upon her. “I am not going to
hurt you. I give you my word.”
    Ciara darted past him, drawing breath to
scream. But he was faster.
    He caught her and pinned her to the wall,
covering her mouth with one beefy hand.
    “I am sorry, Princess.” His breath felt hot
on her cheek. “But trying to make peace with Daemon is like trying
to make peace with the plague. If we give him the chance, he will
kill us all anon. We cannot allow this marriage to take place. And
there can be no wedding … if there is no bride.”
    Ciara’s lungs burned for air. Her mind
screamed in denial. He meant to kill her.
    She struggled against him, fighting with all
her strength.
    He raised his other hand, revealing a long
knife that shone silver-bright in the moonlight. “Your
Highness—”
    Some instinct burst through her confusion.
With a quick twist of her hand, she turned the spiky top of her
coronet toward him—and jabbed it into his side.
    He cried out in surprise and pain, releasing
her mouth for one crucial instant.
    “Help me!” Ciara shouted, pushing him off
with a furious shove, lunging toward the door. “Someone help—”
    He was upon her before she could run two
paces. One powerful hand caught her by the shoulder and spun her
around. Screaming, she struck out at him, then saw the blade in his
other hand. She flung up her arm to ward it off.
    And felt the knife bite into her, sharp and
shocking, felt it slice through skin and muscle. Felt her own
blood, hot as fire as it flowed down her arm.
    Then her legs crumpled beneath her and she
was falling, blinded and deafened by terror as the rush-strewn
floor raced up to meet her. Some part of her mind was distantly
aware of the door opening, light spilling into the room, someone
shouting her name … the sound strangely faint, as if it came from
far away.
    And then blackness darkened the world and
she knew no more.

Chapter 2
    O nly a monk or a
mountain goat would willingly climb a peak such as this, Royce
Saint-Michel thought, reining his destrier to a halt at the