Midnight Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

wouldn’t be necessary for too long.
    So far, all had gone well and probably would continue to do so until after the burials, giving Alberic time to observe, assess, and take whatever preventive measures he deemed appropriate.
    Again following Garrett’s lead, Alberic approached the priest and Hugh’s daughters, knowing all and sundry expected him to utter condolences.
    Useless gestures. He well remembered that no words uttered by the villagers at his mother’s burial had made him feel less wretched, frightened, or alone.
    During the long, somber ride from Wallingford, Garrett had provided bits of information, among them the daughters’ names and order of birth.
    Indeed, the sisters crowded together for support. Emma and Nicole leaned inward, toward Gwendolyn. To prop her up or for succor? Whichever, they appeared as a cluster of feminine jewels in the masculine bedecked hall.
    Exquisitely cut jewels. Their father had either indulged them outrageously or garbed them finely to proclaim his wealth.
    To his surprise, Alberic saw nothing of the father in any of the daughters. All possessed fair skin and the wide, doe-like eyes he’d noticed of Gwendolyn earlier. He couldn’t help thinking their mother must have been quite a beauty.
    A Welsh princess. Or so the king had said. Alberic still didn’t know whether or not to believe the family’s claim of heredity from King Arthur. However, he had no trouble believing the sisters came from Welsh heritage, and their bearing, especially Gwendolyn’s, was worthy of a princess.
    All three wore chemises of the whitest linen, covered by silk surcoats of dove gray. Chains of gold links girdled their waists. Veils of a shimmery cloth he couldn’t name covered their heads, held in place by circlets of spun gold set with large, exquisite jewels, coming damn near close to crowns.
    Topaz studded Emma’s circlet, putting Alberic in mind of the rising sun. The eldest—making her the expected choice for his wife—possessed a lovely face, graced by a full mouth. She was also amply endowed and wide-hipped. Desirable attributes in a wife for a man who needed heirs.
    Young Nicole, with her emerald circlet slightly askew, snuggled up to Gwendolyn for comfort. She bore all the signs of becoming a great beauty, but was much too young to take on the immediate duties of a wife.
    Glittering amethyst, the stones a pure, deep violet, adorned Gwendolyn’s circlet. Willow slender and graceful, she impressed him as sturdy yet flexible, able to endure life’s blows and then come right again. Perhaps he’d judged her too harshly in the bailey, put off by the sight of a woman draped in chain mail. In fully feminine garb, Gwendolyn was an enchanting vision.
    Definitely suitable enough to wed and bed. According to Garrett, Hugh left her in charge of the household in his absence, so no one would need to become accustomed to a new mistress. And of all the females, she was the easiest to envision in his bed.
    And of all the sisters, she paid him the least heed, staring hard at her father and brother.
    Garrett bowed. “My ladies, I cannot fully express my sorrow at this luckless turn of fortune. All I can do is assure you that Sir Hugh and William fought bravely and died honorably. May God have everlasting mercy on their souls.”
    When Emma tried to smile at Garrett, Alberic sensed the pain that glazed her pale face was due to a physical hurt more than the depth of her grief. Was she ill?
    “Sir Garrett,” she said, her voice strong despite the pain. “We thank you for bringing our father and brother back to us.”
    “I wish the circumstances different, my lady. Escorting Lord Hugh to his final rest will be my privileged last service to a man I have served half of my lifetime. A good man, he was. A fair lord who will be missed by many.”
    Then Garrett raised a hand, palm upward indicating the sisters. “Lord Alberic, may I present to you the ladies of the house of de Leon. Emma, Gwendolyn, and