Bound to Be a Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

instincts. If you are hungry, do not eat. If you are thirsty, learn discipline. If you are eager to know about your dead mother, do not give in to morbid curiosity. And in all of those things, she had been obedient. She had even taken a certain pride in learning to master the art of controlling her impulses, repressing her whims, decrying her passions.
    But in that world of dreams… she was free. In that world, her mind and her quivering, eager body were let loose. Only there, in that secret place, did she feel as though one was not just allowed to, but meant to act on impulses, to cultivate whims, and, surely, to give voice to her passions.
    She was ultimately grateful that it was only in dreams, for surely such feelings and… cravings… had no place in the waking world. How could they? How would people function if they were experiencing all those… feelings? Impossible.
    Years of listening to the nuns hint around all sorts of “occasions of sin” finally convinced Isabella that those biblical warnings had something to do with destroying that dream world. Those vague words of caution and stronger admonishments of pending hell, were, Isabella was almost positive, meant to disabuse all humanity of the foolish notion that such a waking bliss might ever be realized on this earth. Hubris. Damnation.
    Isabella respected order. She truly did. She had even convinced herself that her current act of rebellion was an adherence to a higher order, one that she felt had been desecrated by misinterpretations of God’s will for her. She opened her eyes and tried to see the rope that was only inches from her eyes.
    By the light of the fire the previous night, Isabella had found herself admiring—reluctantly—the intricate work of the ropes. Words like meticulous and adept floated through her mind when she tested the firm pressure. As she fell asleep, the secure hold of the bindings took on a protective feeling; the trio of narrow ropes followed the subtle contours of her bone and muscle, holding her close. Maybe the leader of this small foray was a sailor and that accounted for his obvious skill with knots. Her friend Anna would have lowered her voice to a provocative pitch and declared him a pirate.
    It was not entirely far-fetched. The three men were heading straight into Portugal, and if Isabella’s instincts were correct, they were on their way to the nearest harbor. Aveiro.
    After a few minutes of lying perfectly still, Isabella sensed that someone else nearby was awake. There had not been a sound, but something in the air around the fire had altered slightly. She got herself to a sitting position with a bit of awkward maneuvering. The string at the neck of her dress had come loose while she slept and she could not twist her hands enough to remedy it.
    Of course it would be the arrogant bastard of a devil who woke first. Why could he not be a lazy useless excuse of a man and sleep later than the others? Now they were alone while the other two continued to sleep.
    Isabella watched as he circled the small area around the fire and came to stand in front of her. What would he do now? Kick her while she sat there, hunched around herself in her drab ill-fitting dress? She was about to hang her head, to let him think he was in charge, the way her father had taught her to behave around men, and then her anger got the best of her. Her head flew up to face him squarely and she challenged him outright. “Go ahead and kick me, if that is what you intend to do.”
    He stared at her for a long time, narrowing his dark, penetrating eyes as he assessed her. She felt those near-black eyes boring into her deepest places, but she refused to look away. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She was not the one who had tied someone up and tossed a rough blanket in her face last night.
    He reached down to help her. “Stand.”
    She had always considered herself a hearty girl, not easily blown over in a strong wind, as the abbess had said. But when that