The Seasons Series - Part 1 (The Seasons Series Box Set) by Denise Domning

Author:Denise Domning [Domning, Denise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 12th Century Historical Romance
Publisher: Steel Magnolia Press
Published: 2013-12-26T13:00:00+00:00

Leaving Lady Lindhurst in his common cousin’s care, Temric walked swiftly across the hall. He couldn’t bear to look another instant on the woman who should have been his wife, especially when his love for her was worse than hopeless. Even as he willed his heart to heal, new loneliness snapped at him.

The onset of Lady Rowena’s rule here at Graistan had forced right and proper changes into his brother’s life. Prior to Rannulf’s marriage, Temric and Rannulf had shared a mutual loneliness. Now, with his half-brother consumed by his new love, their relationship as brothers altered. Without Rannulf to shoulder half the burden, Temric felt the emptiness of his life settle heavily on his shoulders. There was no one left who cared solely for him.

At the hall’s end, he descended a short flight of stairs into Graistan’s chapel. Temric stopped in its doorway. The chapel was dim, despite the three narrow, east-facing windows behind an altar draped with embroidered cloths. Ornate candle branches, as empty and lifeless as the room’s atmosphere, hung beneath each of the ceiling’s stone arches. Shadows born of the evening lay heavily against the plastered and painted walls and skulked at the feet of the columns, wrapping themselves around capitals carved to look like oak leaves studded with acorns.

Temric glanced at the door of his garrison, which lay at the chapel’s far end, then to the altar’s south end. The door leading to Father Edwin’s tiny chamber, the room cut from the very thickness of Graistan’s walls, was open wide. He listened.

A moment, then two passed and no sound emanated from the priest’s wall chamber. Temric chided himself as a fool. Of course the chapel was empty. It was time for the evening service, which Father Edwin attended at the town’s abbey.

Tension drained from Temric’s shoulders. Thank God for small miracles. He wasn’t ready to speak with the priest just yet, not before he had time to prepare. The old man would carve him to ribbons over what he’d done and with good reason. Sighing in relief, Temric strode into the chamber and past the doorway to the priest’s alcove.

“Temric!” Father Edwin’s call exploded through the alcove’s open doorway to ring against the chapel’s stone walls. Time might have robbed the priest of his teeth and his hearing, but it hadn’t touched the power of his beautiful voice.

Graistan’s master-at-arms, the veteran of many a battle, froze like a guilty child. Still cringing, Temric turned to look into the alcove’s doorway. At the far end of the long, narrow chamber hewn from the walls, Father Edwin sat on his cot. Although his back was bowed with age and only wisps of pale hair yet covered the old man’s freckled pate, there was nothing wrong with his eyesight. As their gazes met, Temric found entirely too much intelligence in the ancient priest’s blue eyes.

Coming to his feet, the man responsible for Temric’s baptism shuffled toward the doorway. “Did you think to rush into your precious garrison without speaking to me first?” There was a sharp edge to his voice.

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