The Rose of Blacksword: A Loveswept Historical Romance by Rexanne Becnel

Author:Rexanne Becnel [Becnel, Rexanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fiction, Historical, General
ISBN: 9780307799227
Google: MRDiAYGh3wUC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 13531358
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 1992-05-01T22:00:00+00:00

20

She had to escape.

That solitary thought pounded in Rosalynde’s mind as she fled the stillroom and her disastrous confrontation with Aric. She must get away from him before she was ripped asunder by the conflicting emotions that tore at her. It should not matter that he courted disaster with her father; it should matter even less that he might now be discovered by Sir Gilbert. Yet no amount of logic would banish that fact that it did matter. If he was hurt she did not think she could bear it. And if he was killed …

She came to an abrupt halt at the stables and placed a hand to the painful stitch in her side. If he was killed, something inside her would die as well. It didn’t matter how he provoked her or how angry she became. In the final analysis, she could not bear to see him hurt. But she was perversely unable to prevent it either. He seemed almost to seek a confrontation with that man, Sir Gilbert. She’d thought to frighten him away with the man’s very name. Instead, it had worked more as a challenge to him, a gauntlet tossed before him that he took up with a vengeance.

Rosalynde slumped against the stable wall and closed her eyes hopelessly. It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Not Blacksword’s role as a common outlaw. Not his insistence that she honor the handfasting. And certainly not his unexpected reaction to Sir Gilbert’s presence here.

With every move she made, everything became even more confusing until now it was beyond all hope of putting right. Before she’d only had Blacksword and her father to juggle against one another. Now with Sir Gilbert’s threat, as well as Cleve’s, she knew she was losing control. It was only a matter of time before it all came apart around her.

At that precise moment, Cleve rounded the corner, coming face to face with her, and Rosalynde felt as if her very thoughts had come to life. He stopped short at the sight of her pale face and defeated posture. Then his expression grew anxious and he moved nearer.

“Milady? Is aught amiss?”

She gave him an ironic smile, faint as it was. “Everything is amiss. Surely you cannot wonder at that.” But as his young face reflected his warring emotions—both guilt for his part in her misery and satisfaction that she had taken his threat seriously—she felt a pang of regret for her angry remark. None of this was truly of his doing, she admitted to herself. He’d reacted only as should be expected. She knew he had always been concerned with her safety.

“Forgive me, Cleve.” She sighed then turned her eyes away from him. “That was most unkind of me. It’s only that …” She faltered, then turned a haunted face back to him. “He will not go. Indeed, it seems he is more determined than ever to stay.”

“Then he shall suffer the results of his foolishness,” the boy retorted in quick anger.

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