A Love Unveiled

Chapter Twenty-Eight

           He could kill. So enraged by his brother’s actions and Alana’s compelling urge to escape him, she now unwittingly put herself up for grabs. He could throttle her!

            The fact that his betrothed remained at Linden did little to appease his anger. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he paused to brace his hands on the table, every muscle in his being taut with unimaginable rage.

            Damn Curran to hell!

            Well, if she thought him such a damned beast she would find out just exactly the type of beast he could be.

            He had prolonged the inevitable. He had a duty to his King, and though he greatly disapproved of it, William wished to greater his alliances, forcing him to wed.

            He had sought after Alana’s skirts like a youthful lad wet behind the ears. She had made her second mistake by running, her first, saving a man that most wished dead.

            Of all men expected to take a wife, he never thought Curran the sort.

He swept his arm across the table, sending an empty tankard soaring across the room.

            So in wrapped in his thoughts, he had not seen the woman entering the hall.

            “Milord?”

            He straightened from the table and swept a hand through his tousled hair. “What can I do for you, milady?” he struggled to conceal the ire in his tone as he turned to his betrothed.

            Rosalind bit down on her own anger, sensing his, she knew now was not a good time to tell him how she felt about her betrothed chasing a serf all over Canterbury.

            “Is there aught I can do for you?” she had taken extra care in her appearance, ensuring to look her best for him now that the red-haired serf was no longer a hindrance.

            Her hair, usually pulled into a chignon, now splayed her shoulders in an inky blanket of curls. Her face flushed crimson did wonders for her dark eyes and her lips, a rosy-pink, usually inspired flavorful glances, but as she stood before her betrothed, she sensed all her efforts went unnoticed.

            She lowered her sooty lashes as she felt his eyes upon her, “I wish to please you, milord.”

            Fallon took a moment to study his bride. Their first encounter, he remembered her as shy and slightly wary of him.

            He stepped from around the table and approached her, he watched her carefully, taking note of the tensing of her shoulders. “Do you fear me, bride?”

            The question startled as well as unnerved her. She peered up from beneath her lashes to look at him. “Yes, milord.”