Puritan Bride (34 page)

‘What are you saying, Kate? You are not making it easy for me.’

‘But I am. Very easy.’

Marlbrooke read the intention in her eyes before she moved. But too late. With a quick turn of the wrist, she let the will fall into the fire. It was only a single sheet, dry and curled. In a moment it was gone into ash and smoke. His attempt to catch her wrist, to intercept the paper before it touched the flames, failed.

‘There. It is done.’

‘Katherine, I … Whatever I thought you would do, it was not that. What do I say?’ He could not find the words, simply looked at her, mouth firm, every muscle held in check.

‘Why, nothing.’ She tightened her grip on his arm. ‘You gave me the freedom to make a choice. I will never forget that. And I have made it—so that is the end to it.’

He took her face in his hands, to search her expression with fierce eyes. Then he lowered his head to kiss her, his mouth soft and warm, seducing her into raising her arms to wind them around his neck and hold him close. She sighed when he released her, yet still keeping his arms around her, his cheek resting against her hair, her body held protectively close.

‘Do you need to know how much I love you?’ she asked, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her own. ‘I could not fight you through the courts. Not now. Nor
will I charm the King. The Priory is yours—and mine, if you want me.’

‘Katherine!’ He turned his head to press his lips to her hair. ‘I love you more than you could ever believe.’

‘And I thought you loved Viola!’

He heard the laughter in her voice, muffled against his coat. He smiled at the release of tension. ‘Ah, yes. I fell in love with Viola. I have very fond memories of her. She was not as wayward or strong willed as Katherine. I remember her sweet gentleness, her good humour, her willingness to accept my advice without question …’ He grinned and winced as Kate’s heel found a tender place on his instep and exerted not a little pressure. ‘But I believe I can find room for both Viola and Kate in my heart. Will that satisfy you?’

She lifted her head and answered with her lips on his, brushing her hand along his glorious hair in a tender caress. A faint crease appeared between her dark brows.

‘What is it, my dearest love?’

‘You once told me that you could never see the Priory as your home. That Glasbury would always hold the central place in your heart.’

‘I remember.’ A shadow touched his face, but was quickly gone.

‘I understand why, Marcus. But could you perhaps bear to live at the Priory occasionally? Even if some day in the future you decide to rebuild Glasbury?’

‘Yes. I can do that.’ Marlbrooke’s face was solemn, his
eyes holding hers, as if committing himself to a binding oath. ‘As long as you are here with me, the Priory will be my home. In spite of Isolde and all the works of man, Harley and Oxenden will finally be joined.’

‘I would like that.’

A ghost of a smile flittered across his mouth, quickly suppressed. ‘And, of course, we are now honour bound to keep my solemn vow to Isolde.’

‘Did you make one? I do not remember.’

‘I did indeed. That a child of our union would be desired and cherished, a celebration of our love.’

‘And you believe, of course, that we should attempt to keep your vow?’

‘Assuredly! Vows should always be taken seriously.’

Kate laughed. ‘And you claim that I am devious and managing!’ Her eyes glowed with love. ‘I will agree to keep your promise, Marcus—but only if you marry me first!’

‘I can also do that!’

‘Well then, my lord!’ She took his hand, linking her fingers with his in a promise of unity before she allowed him to draw her more firmly into his arms, lifting her face for his kiss.

*  *  *

Copyright © Anne O’Brien 2004

All Rights Reserved

This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l.

MIRA is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.

ISBN: 978-1408951095

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

ANNE O’BRIEN
taught History in the East Riding of Yorkshire before deciding to fulfil an ambition to write historical fiction. She now lives in an eighteenth-century timbered cottage with her husband in the Welsh Marches, a wild, beautiful place renowned for its black-and-white timbered houses, ruined castles and priories and magnificent churches. Steeped in history, famous people and bloody deeds, as well as ghosts and folklore, the Marches provide inspiration for her interest in medieval England.

Visit her at www.anneobrienbooks.com

VIRGIN WIDOW

DEVIL’S CONSORT

THE KING'S CONCUBINE

THE FORBIDDEN QUEEN