Page 5 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“Your bride awaits you in the chapel,” Edwin said. “Her father threatens to forfeit the betrothal if you’re not wed by nightfall.”
Harald snorted. “Is he desperate to rid himself of her?”
“It’s no laughing matter,” Edwin chided. “You could still lose Wildstorm.”
Harald ignored his brother’s warning. “Is the woman comely?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She was heavily veiled.”
Harald sighed. “So the rumors are true. William has saddled me with a deformed crone.”
“Looks aren’t everything,” Edwin said. “She may have other qualities.”
“I doubt it.”
Edwin smiled, sympathy in his expression. “Perhaps she’s kind. Women devoid of looks often are. And if she’s as hideous as you say, she’d appreciate a little kindness from you.”
“Women exist for one thing only,” Harald said, “and they use that to manipulate men into giving them what they want. Liars and harlots, the lot of them.”
“This one may be different.”
“Edwin, William granted Wildstorm toher. Not her father. How do you think a woman would entice such a man into doing so? This marriage is purely to further peace between Saxon and Norman.”
“But not the peace between man and wife?”
Harald pushed open the doors to the hall. “There can never be peace between a man and a woman, brother. I learned that lesson, to my cost, a long time ago.”
* * *
Edwin graspedhis brother’s arm and tried to restrain him, but Harald was too strong for him. Their father’s Viking ancestry was more visible in Harald, with his dirty blonde hair and broad muscular frame, enhanced by years of training with a sword and axe. Their only similarity was in their eyes, both the shape and color of their Saxon mother. Harald’s were a deeper brown than Edwin’s and they would change to a dark mahogany, almost black when aroused.
Or angered, as he was now.
“Put something on that befits your status,” Edwin hissed, “and get thee to the chapel.”
“Do not fear little brother,” Harald said. “I shall wed the wench, but let me drink a horn of ale first. I won’t be able to stomach the sight of her sober.”
Edwin sighed and watched his brother retreat into the hall. Though he loved Harald dearly, and knew the horrors he suffered at night in his dreams, he almost felt sorry for the wench. A woman that small, would snap in two at the hands of any man. And Harald was not known for gentleness—in bed, or out of it.
* * *
Standingin the chapel next to her bridegroom, Eloise trembled as the priest declared them man and wife. She now belonged to the giant whose hand engulfed her own, and who stared straight ahead, jaw set firm, as if he gritted his teeth. His eyes seemed almost black with rage, and he swayed sideways, the odor of ale on his breath.
As soon as the priest finished the declaration, he dropped her hand as if it burned. Then he turned and stumbled out of the chapel leaving her standing, alone and humiliated in front of the witnesses.
He hadn’t even bothered to lift her veil. He had no wish to look at her.
Papa took her hand. “Perhaps he’s unwell, daughter.”
“Aye,” she said. “I saw the nature of his ailment.”
Edwin appeared at her side. “I apologize for my brother,” he said. “May I escort you to the feast?”
“Leave us,” Papa said. “My daughter and I will join you later.”
“As you wish.”
As Edwin’s footsteps and those of the guests faded, Papa took Eloise in his arms.
