The Redeeming by Tamara Leigh Page B

I would die when I saw you in the ravine and realized what you had sacrificed to save me.”
    Beatrix recaptured her sister’s hand. “There is naught to forgive. You were hurting when you said what you did and never would I fault you. As for what happened to me, had I to do it again, I would, for it gave me Michael.”
    Slowly, Gaenor’s tension eased. “God favors you, Beatrix. You must please Him mightily. If only I knew Him as you do, perhaps I might better face what lies in wait for me.”
    With soft eyes, Beatrix said, “You can know God as I do. You have but to let Him in.”
    “It is not so simple.”
    “’Tis far from simple, but still a-attainable.”
    Gaenor looked across the hall to the group that included their mother, Garr, and Everard—and from which Abel was conspicuously absent. She had not been surprised when he had not presented at Stern for the wedding, for it had surely been determined that one of the Wulfrith brothers remain at Wulfen Castle to oversee the training. Still, she was disappointed.
    A moment later, the one Gaenor sought joined the group. As Sir Durand had done at the chapel where Beatrix and Michael had exchanged vows, he brooded. Not that it surprised, for any remaining hope he might have had for claiming Beatrix as his own was stamped out by her marriage.
    Though Gaenor did not want to feel for him, she did, despite all that had happened between them. And remembrance of her sin made her wonder if it was possible to know God as Beatrix knew Him. Was such a relationship attainable?
    She sighed. “Attainable even when one has sinned greatly?”
    Beatrix considered her a long moment. “Whatever you have done, you have but to ask for forgiveness and it will be granted.”
    As guilt and embarrassment flushed Gaenor, the musicians once more began to play for the wedding guests. Hoping to lighten the mood, Gaenor quipped, “And if I ask Him to deliver me free of marriage to Baron Lavonne, will that also be granted?”
    “If it is in His will.”
    “Always His will, which means I shall wed Lavonne—unless the baron determines he does not want me. Which is possible.” And it was, though to seek such means of escaping marriage would bring great shame on her family. Gaenor rose, glanced at the gathering, then bent and kissed Beatrix’s brow. “God willing, I shall one day see through the eyes of love as you do, little sister.”
    “I am certain you shall.”
    “Now”—Gaenor summoned a smile—“I am going to dance at my sister’s wedding.”
    Though the knight who held out a hand to pull her amid the dancers was not as tall as she, he turned her about the floor with ease. And for some minutes, Gaenor lost herself in the music that played through her body and caused her feet to step lightly. Indeed, at one point she felt as if she were flying.
    It was then Sir Durand appeared. The household knight, being of lower rank, relinquished Gaenor before she could protest.
    Finding her hand and waist gripped by a man she had vowed to never again allow so near, Gaenor glared at him where he stood two inches shorter than she. “I do not wish to dance with you, Sir Durand.”
    His mouth was a severe line. “There is a matter of import we must needs discuss.”
    “Here?”
    “Elsewhere if you will allow it.” He turned her in time with the lively music.
    “I will not.”
    “Then here it must be.”
    He turned her again, and she realized he had worked her from the middle of the dance floor to the edge where it was less likely they would be overheard.
    “Do tell, that we might be done with this farce, Sir Durand.”
    “I would steal you away.”
    She stumbled, and only his hand on her waist prevented her from landing at his feet. “What?”
    “I would see you free of this marriage into which you are being forced.”
    “Why?”
    “You are being sacrificed.”
    As she had believed but had endeavored to disprove to herself.
    “I cannot bear it,” he said.
    This time, she did laugh.