Captive Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

would soon be her husband. But what if he were truly as hideously disfigured as Olgrethe had feared? He had not come to his father’s dock to meet her—was he unable to ride? Did he spend all his time in darkened rooms so his appearance could be hidden? Would she be able to hide her revulsion from him for even one minute, let alone for the rest of her life?
    “I am here, Olgrethe.” When he turned toward the window only his silhouette was clearly visible, the bright outline of a tall man, powerfully built but lean, his broad shoulders tapering to a slim waist and narrow hips. He was leaning against the back of a sturdy chair, favoring his right leg slightly as he stood gazing out toward the sea. ‘What they have done to us is unpardonable. Our fathers have sealed a bargain of theirs with our lives, but I am a grown man, not a child who must do his father’s bidding, and you need not marry me today, nor ever. I will release you from whatever promise you have made.”
    Celiese approached Mylan slowly, her fear of him replaced by a curious fascination, for the rich timber of his deep voice was mellow and very pleasing, even though his words were bitter. “Mylan, I—”
    “No! Listen to me—if you will not refuse this match, then I will refuse you! I want no bride who has been forced to take me sight unseen. I want no part of our father’s wretched pact!”
    Certain what her fate would be should she have to return to Raktor’s house, Celiese gathered all her courage and reached out to touch Mylan’s sleeve lightly, but she felt him flinch before he drew away. “Mylan, please, will you not look at me while we speak?” She held her breath, terrified of what she would see as he turned slowly toward her, but as the light of the sun illuminated his face she gasped sharply, for never had she expected Mylan Vandahl’s appearance to provide such a shock. His thick tangle of bright curls shone with copper highlights, yet his finely drawn brows and long eyelashes were dark. His eyes, which widened in surprise as he looked down at her, were the same sparkling light brown as his mother’s, topaz in hue, with a compelling shine she could not resist, and she exclaimed with genuine delight, “Why Mylan, you are so very handsome, why would any woman refuse to marry you?”
    Mylan frowned as he reached out to touch her silken curls. “You are very young, little more than a child, but how can you think me handsome?”
    Celiese moved closer, turning so the light fell fully across his face. The scar that crossed his left cheek was a slight flaw in her opinion, but she was no stranger to the pain that filled his level gaze. She reached up to touch his cheek lightly, her fingertips tracing the thin scar with a delicate caress. “Your features are perfect, as finely carved as the most proficient sculptor could fashion, your coloring so unusual and attractive, why would this small scar disturb you so greatly?”
    Mylan stepped back into the shadows as he drew his tunic over his head and then tossed it aside as he moved back into the light so she could see him clearly. The skin of his broad chest was horribly scarred, as if he’d been flayed alive by some vicious giant who had lost interest in mid-task and pressed his victim’s flesh back into place with no effort to make the pieces fit properly.
    Celiese swallowed the painful lump that filled her throat and tried to smile but could not. “You must be very brave to have survived such a painful ordeal, Mylan, and surely courage and spirit are far more important qualities in a man than mere physical beauty.”
    “This is not the worst of it.” Mylan brushed her sweet comments aside rudely as he gestured impatiently to the grotesque ridges that crisscrossed his torso. “My right leg looks no better, the short distance I can walk I cannot traverse without limping badly, I still tire much too easily and—”
    Celiese stepped into his arms and lifted her fingertips to his lips to