Love and Deception: a Clean Medieval Historical Romance Read Online Free PDF

feat, that one. She seems set on marrying you either way.”
    “You don’t understand at all, Bram,” he grinned. “I do not want her to marry me just because she is obligated to. I want her to find happiness in this union as well.”
    Bram stood gaping at the young lord as he strolled away from the training area. Ever since assuming the role of his late father, he had rarely seen the younger man indulge his emotions. He had viewed his previous betrothal as a means to an end and nothing else.
    Yet, here he was, smiling like he had just been handed the moon on a silver platter.
    “Will wonders never cease?” the old knight murmured before laughing heartily and shaking his head.
----
    S tephen walked in to find the whole castle in an uproar.
    Sir Gregory ran to him, face pale, his blue eyes wide as he bowed before his liege lord. Three years ago, he had seen this very scene play out before him — the maids scurrying about wringing their hands, their eyes darting anxiously as if they wished to speak but knew not how to; his knights standing rigidly, as though in anticipation of a battle.
    The odd wave of déjà vu slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave. He felt like a bucket of ice cold water had just been poured all over him.
    “Milord,” Sir Gregory began.
    “Sir Gregory,” his voice was steely as he regarded the knight. “Where is Lady Rosamund?”
    The knight stiffened. “We found her chambers empty this morning, milord. Her maid knew not where she had gone but we found this note when we searched her rooms for any clue that might lead us to her.”
    With shaky hands he turned over the piece of paper and the hand in which it was written filled him with a cold fury. He knew well enough whose hand wrote that note.
    He crumpled the scrap of parchment and let it fall to the floor from his numb fingers. Three years ago, he had let the man go without repercussions under the assumption that it was not his place to intervene in what appeared to be a problem within the family of his previous betrothed.
    The death of Catherine Fitzhugh had been a tragedy that could have been avoided well enough. He knew she was young and very easily swayed by beautiful words and soft kisses and in that part, he was found wanting.
    He had cared for little else beyond the expansion of his estate and the rebuilding of Braxton Hall in the early days of their courtship. Lady Catherine had found him aloof and a little too cold for her liking. He just did not expect that she would seek out another to provide her with the courtly gestures her girlish fantasies craved.
    In the end, she had foolishly entrusted her heart to a man who saw little else beyond the acquisition of her father’s lands and the humiliation he would bring down upon Braxton himself. Late at night, when the guests had been asleep, she slipped out of her room to meet with her lover. They had had an awful disagreement, according to the lady’s maid, who secretly followed Lady Catherine, and at the height of their quarrel, he had shoved the young woman through an open window.
    Catherine died on the very spot she fell.
    The very idea of Lady Rosamund in the hands of such an evil man made him go cold with dread. Harry had no qualms about murdering young women for as long as they provided a means to an end.
    “Saddle my horse,” he ordered, his blue eyes alight with cold fury. “It is barely sunrise. They could not have gone very far. Tell the scouts to search for any trace of a tall man with dark brown hair and eyes.”
    He turned to the door and found Bram at the entrance with a worried look in his eyes. “I will find them, Bram,” he vowed. “I will find them and I will kill him with my bare hands.”
    “As you wish, milord,” the old knight replied.

Chapter 7
    R osamund woke up to a throbbing head that threatened to crack her skull open. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and the pinpoint spots of light that seeped through the small holes of the musty sack so