A Kiss in the Night Read Online Free PDF

"I cannot."
    Paxton's honesty was a rare thing, John well knew. Rare and presently regrettable. He shook his head in wonder of this ill news. "God's teeth, Paxton, if it be true, Morgan will not forgive you this.”
    Morgan had spent over two years negotiating the dowry and land acquisition for his marriage to Lady Belinda Saint de Beaumaris, daughter of baron and baroness De Beaumaris of Nancy. Two years. The discussion of the lady's travel plans alone had taken two months, every detail taken into account: the route, the number of knights to accompany the lady, footmen and their livery, the provisions for her serving woman, the inns to be stayed at, which party would pay for the knights lodging, every detail gone over and worked out to mutual agreement.
    Then word had arrived from faraway estates that the so-called archpriest, an outlaw who had been joined by fifty or so men, was relentlessly marching over the land, raping, pillaging, and setting to flame all villages and homes that could not pay his ransom. Paxton had wanted to gather Gaillard's knights and meet the army at once, but Morgan, like most other lords, said, "Nay, 'tis not our problem. Perhaps when they ride farther south…” Morgan's indifference, or what Paxton always saw as cowardice, had infuriated him. It always infuriated him. Then the Bishop Comte de Berry's word had arrived and it was realized the Lady Belinda would be crossing this outlawed army's path on her way to Gaillard. The news had alarmed Morgan as nothing else could, and at last he had granted permission to Paxton and their men to ride out to battle the archpriest and rescue the Lady.
    Now this lurid tale of a witch and a coupling .
    He appealed to his uncle for help, "John..."
    "Morgan swears he cannot forgive you this time. He imagines you acted with malice of purpose, in the perverse hope of denying him a wife and heir, that he will see you banished—"
    The great wooden doors above them opened at that instant.
    Morgan appeared on the top step between two stone lion heads mounted there, the knights Henry and Clifford behind him. Indeed Morgan's handsome face was filled with fury as he raced down the steps, cursing Paxton's name.
    Though twins, the two men did not look alike. Paxton's face was arresting and the strength there almost frightening; like John the Baptist, people always said. His brother was, by consensus, the more handsome. And despite his auspicious head start at birth, Morgan was not as tall as Paxton. Whereas Paxton was built lean and muscular, like the warhorses he loved, Morgan was heavier of bone and limb. Once as a tailor was fitting them, Paxton had made everyone laugh by the wry comment, "From the day we were born and every day since, my brother has insisted on taking up more space than me..." His brother had darker hair, too, and dark eyes. A full beard hid the same dramatic thrust of square chin, softening Morgan's appearance somewhat, and with a far more modest nose than his brother's, Morgan's features appeared regular and more conventional, altogether less dramatic.
    "Brother," Paxton started to explain as the two men faced each other, his blue eyes offering sympathy when he knew it would not be accepted. "We have not found the lady yet. We crushed the outlaw army and I have half my men searching for the lady, while the other half are chasing the renegades through the forest. I came to get—"
    Paxton was utterly unprepared for the hard blow of Morgan's fist. Bent over, he put his hand over his face, trying to gain himself a moment to overcome the shock. Morgan waited the precious minute for Paxton to rise, and when he did, the silence that followed was filled with the weight of understanding.
    The two brothers had grown up fighting each other, or rather Paxton had grown up enduring the near daily humiliation of being beaten to a bloody pulp by Morgan. The last time they had taken blows to each other, they were fifteen and both had returned to Gaillard from their