Mary Reed McCall Read Free

blow to the chest. She was tall and solemn, her midnight blue eyes staring up at him, her face framed in rich brown waves that spilled from the circlet on her brow to fall below her waist.
    “Damn Montford. The bastard played another farce, allowing me to think her a delicate Court beauty.”
    “He’s more the fool then,” Alban said. “You’ve never cared for the fashions of Court, especially when it comes to women.”
    “Aye, and yet I still lose. You of all people know why. God help me, but Elise de Montford is all that I vowed never to touch. Never again.”
    Alban shook his head. “Let it go, Gray. You’ve served penance long enough. Accept your lady wife for the boon she is and move forward.”
    Swallowing his retort, Gray reminded himself that his friend saw the world through clear eyes. Sir Alban Warton had no sin to hide, no rage churning relentlessly in his breast.
    He clenched his jaw and looked away, glancing around the richly appointed solar of Ravenslock Castle—his castle—the most grand of the many strongholds he’d won through bludgeoning opponents in countless battles and tournaments for King Henry. He’d worked hard for all he’d gained. Spilling his blood was but a small part of what he’d suffered in the past seventeen years. He’d gone through hell and back before managing to earn this measure of success and prosperity.
    And yet for all his efforts, for all his sacrifice, it had all almost slipped through his fingers only a few months ago. He’d almost lost everything, thanks to his new bastard of a brother-in-law.
    As another of King Henry’s champions, Montford had envied Gray’s success. He’d wanted the same rewards, the same honors as Gray, whether he deserved them or not. And so to bring him down, Montford had ferreted out and exposed Gray’sdarkest secret. He’d told everyone at Court that Gray had killed his own twin sister nearly two decades ago—that he’d murdered his own sweet Gillian.
    Gray breathed in sharply, the pain of Gillian’s death still fresh even now. Montford’s accusation had merely piled shame atop his misery, because he couldn’t deny it. Not in essence, anyway. ’Twas true. He, Baron Grayson de Camville, King Henry’s High Champion on the field of honor, justice and truth, had been culpable in his own sister’s death.
    Eduard’s public accusation had disgraced him. It had pushed him to the brink of personal disaster. But it had also sparked volatile disputes at Court. Sides had been chosen and alliances made, lighting the wick to political unrest that had threatened to lead England’s barons into Civil War.
    Peace had finally been restored by the king, but not without a price…and Gray had paid it today in his marriage to Elise de Montford—the all too tempting sister of the wretch who’d tried to destroy him.
    He cursed aloud. “I can’t do it, Alban. I can’t stay bound to her. I was a fool to think I could.” Gray walked to the end of the heavy table, searching beneath its edge to retrieve the silken pouch with its iron key. Pushing aside the tapestry on the wall, he exposed the door that would lead him into the tilting yard and away from the rage and the agonizing memories that haunted him. “I’ll seek an annulment.”
    “No you won’t. There’s too much at stake,”Alban said. “King Henry commanded this union, and if you deny it now, you’ll only awaken his wrath anew, which at the very least will mean losing your chance to be appointed Sheriff of Cheltenham come Christmastide.”
    That undeniable fact sank into Gray’s bones with the swiftness of an executioner’s blade. Alban seemed not to notice. Looking away, he added, “Of course, if you no longer wish to gain the position, or any others that might come along—”
    “You know I do.” Gray leaned against the door. His head ached, and his shoulders tightened until it seemed as if his muscles must shred from his bones. Christ, why couldn’t he quench this constant