Beguiled by the Forbidden Knight by Elisabeth Hobbes

Author:Elisabeth Hobbes [Hobbes, Elisabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-03-13T11:44:18+00:00

Chapter Ten

Aelfhild drew a sharp breath.

‘That—that isn’t a question.’

Gui watched her with the eyes of a hawk sizing up its prey. ‘Then I’ll rephrase it. Tell me, why does your brooch matter so much to you?’

‘Why do you want to know?’ she asked.

He grinned and his eyes crinkled at the corners, giving him a roguish yet attractive expression. ‘Curiosity. The same as you. You reacted so strongly when I refused to give it back.’

She chewed a fingernail and considered lying, but after the honest answer Gui had given and the risk he had taken by sharing his secret she felt unable to be so treacherous.

‘It was given to me by someone I cared for. Someone who is dead.’

‘A man?’ He started forward. ‘Did you have a lover?’

Gui’s voice had an edge to it that confused Aelfhild until she remembered that he thought she was his bride-to-be. No man would wed a bride who had spoiled herself with another man. Sigrun had been as virtuous as any mother or husband could wish. When he discovered the truth of the matter Gui would not be disappointed at his bride’s conduct. Aelfhild’s had been no worse than that of many women either.

‘He was never my lover in the sense you mean. He was—’ She was about to say he had been ‘Sigrun’s brother’, before remembering Gui knew Sigrun as Aelfhild the foundling with no family. ‘He was a friend of my brother.’

Gui began examining the design of the brooch, rubbing his fingers over the surface.

‘So your lad gave you this as a love token and you use it as a weapon?’

He turned his left arm over to reveal the scratch on his forearm. She hadn’t realised how deeply she had cut him. ‘I used it as a fishing hook. You made it into a weapon when you scared me.’

He had good arms, toned and muscular, with a covering of soft hairs that were lighter in colour than the hair on his head. That only one ended with the hand it should was tragic. The red wound on his left forearm stood out against flesh that was less tanned than his throat and face.

‘That looks sore.’

He shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched, giving the lie to his indifference. ‘A little, but I’ve suffered worse as you know.’

‘It needs cleaning.’

‘I’ve been doing that,’ he said with exaggerated patience. ‘You saw me in the river.’

Boldly, Aelfhild grabbed his left wrist and pulled it to her. Knowing there was nothing in the glove made her stomach squirm a little, but she was determined not to hurt his feelings by letting him know. She took her mind off it by inspecting the scratch closely. The skin around it was hot to touch. Not a good sign.

‘You need to treat it properly before the wound begins to fester.’

‘Perhaps you’re right. To die from bad blood when I’ve survived the war would be a cruel trick of fate.’

Aelfhild delved into her bag and pulled out a small clay pot.

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