True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse by Claire Delacroix
Authors: Claire Delacroix
Ads: Link
of gilded leather, supple and gleaming.
As before, a cluster of winged creatures fluttered around him, like a cloud of gilded dragonflies. They were Fae, though, tiny perfect creatures serving their laird.
Elizabeth remembered his words, the ones he had uttered into her own thoughts on that night and which still echoed in her dreams. One day, beauteous Elizabeth, you will come to me. I already grow impatient .
It was as if she had been waiting for him, even though she had forgotten ever having seen him. Her mouth went dry and her heart quivered. Her basket of strawberries dropped at her feet, for she both knew and feared what Finvarra wanted.
When he smiled, she straightened. Here was adventure and to spare.
When he beckoned to her with one finger, Elizabeth could only obey. She crossed the clearing quickly and decisively, more than ready to have something change in her life, and paused before the king.
On impulse, she bowed. Like every child who had ever heard a tale, Elizabeth knew it was not wise to offend the powerful Fae, and Finvarra was the most powerful of all his kind. “Well met, my lord Finvarra.”
He smiled with pleasure and gestured to the chess board before him. “I seek another player, Elizabeth. Will you join me for a game on this fine day?”
“But what stakes, my lord?” she asked, knowing that one did not engage the king of the Fae without knowing what was at risk.
It could be everything.
It could be naught at all.
It could be the laugh of a child, the weight of a feather, a glimmer of sunlight through the clouds. It could be the fate of a sibling or the destiny of true love.
“This time, let us just play, the better to understand each other.”
It was an invitation Elizabeth could not refuse. She sat down, noting that he took the black side while she was granted the white. He gestured to her with grace, the Fae attendants flying closer to watch, and Elizabeth chose to move a pawn.
She was glad indeed that Anthony had taken great pleasure in teaching her to play chess, though she did not doubt that Finvarra was a more experienced player.
As king of the Fae, he had had centuries to hone his game.
*
It was outrageous.
Annelise simmered, well aware that her sister and husband were keeping her from Garrett. She had been compelled to sit beside Orson at the midday meal and now listened to his endless tales about his marvelous self and his many feats of valor. She was certain they were no more true than that of his killing the wolf, but Murdoch’s quelling glance had silenced her.
For now. She clenched her fists in her lap and did not even endeavor to smile or encourage him, a choice that had no obvious effect upon Orson’s determination to woo her.
Annelise was disgusted. Simply because he had earned his spurs and had noble birth, Orson sat at the high table and was granted a chamber in the manor itself, albeit one to share with his companion knight. He was treated with the utmost courtesy, even though he was a complete stranger to every soul in Seton Manor.
All Annelise knew of him was that he had lied about the wolf pelt, and that was no commendation.
Garrett, on the other hand, had saved her life from that same wolf. He had acted with valor and strength, but upon coming to the gates, he was dispatched to a hut beyond the kitchens, suitable only for a goatherd. He, too, was a stranger, but one whose deeds spoke mightily of his nature.
Yet he was a hunter, not a nobleman, and therein was the difference.
It was wrong. It was unjust. In terms of his merit as a man, his honor, his nature and his morals, he was a veritable prince compared to Orson, who cared only for his own importance and comfort. Annelise could not believe that she was the only one in the hall who saw the truth of it.
Was this a mark of how any choice on her part would be treated? Would they compel her to wed Orson or another man of his ilk, just because of his rank? Annelise cared little for comfort and wealth, at
As before, a cluster of winged creatures fluttered around him, like a cloud of gilded dragonflies. They were Fae, though, tiny perfect creatures serving their laird.
Elizabeth remembered his words, the ones he had uttered into her own thoughts on that night and which still echoed in her dreams. One day, beauteous Elizabeth, you will come to me. I already grow impatient .
It was as if she had been waiting for him, even though she had forgotten ever having seen him. Her mouth went dry and her heart quivered. Her basket of strawberries dropped at her feet, for she both knew and feared what Finvarra wanted.
When he smiled, she straightened. Here was adventure and to spare.
When he beckoned to her with one finger, Elizabeth could only obey. She crossed the clearing quickly and decisively, more than ready to have something change in her life, and paused before the king.
On impulse, she bowed. Like every child who had ever heard a tale, Elizabeth knew it was not wise to offend the powerful Fae, and Finvarra was the most powerful of all his kind. “Well met, my lord Finvarra.”
He smiled with pleasure and gestured to the chess board before him. “I seek another player, Elizabeth. Will you join me for a game on this fine day?”
“But what stakes, my lord?” she asked, knowing that one did not engage the king of the Fae without knowing what was at risk.
It could be everything.
It could be naught at all.
It could be the laugh of a child, the weight of a feather, a glimmer of sunlight through the clouds. It could be the fate of a sibling or the destiny of true love.
“This time, let us just play, the better to understand each other.”
It was an invitation Elizabeth could not refuse. She sat down, noting that he took the black side while she was granted the white. He gestured to her with grace, the Fae attendants flying closer to watch, and Elizabeth chose to move a pawn.
She was glad indeed that Anthony had taken great pleasure in teaching her to play chess, though she did not doubt that Finvarra was a more experienced player.
As king of the Fae, he had had centuries to hone his game.
*
It was outrageous.
Annelise simmered, well aware that her sister and husband were keeping her from Garrett. She had been compelled to sit beside Orson at the midday meal and now listened to his endless tales about his marvelous self and his many feats of valor. She was certain they were no more true than that of his killing the wolf, but Murdoch’s quelling glance had silenced her.
For now. She clenched her fists in her lap and did not even endeavor to smile or encourage him, a choice that had no obvious effect upon Orson’s determination to woo her.
Annelise was disgusted. Simply because he had earned his spurs and had noble birth, Orson sat at the high table and was granted a chamber in the manor itself, albeit one to share with his companion knight. He was treated with the utmost courtesy, even though he was a complete stranger to every soul in Seton Manor.
All Annelise knew of him was that he had lied about the wolf pelt, and that was no commendation.
Garrett, on the other hand, had saved her life from that same wolf. He had acted with valor and strength, but upon coming to the gates, he was dispatched to a hut beyond the kitchens, suitable only for a goatherd. He, too, was a stranger, but one whose deeds spoke mightily of his nature.
Yet he was a hunter, not a nobleman, and therein was the difference.
It was wrong. It was unjust. In terms of his merit as a man, his honor, his nature and his morals, he was a veritable prince compared to Orson, who cared only for his own importance and comfort. Annelise could not believe that she was the only one in the hall who saw the truth of it.
Was this a mark of how any choice on her part would be treated? Would they compel her to wed Orson or another man of his ilk, just because of his rank? Annelise cared little for comfort and wealth, at
Similar Books
