Once a Knight Read Online Free PDF Page B

her duty lay. Regardless of her feelings, she had to protect George’s Cross, and a husband would be an asset. More, this precarious and dangerous situation which plagued her would surely vanish in a husband’s custody.
    But a husband would also increase the possibility of discovery and the chance she would be unable to fulfill her vow. Dread ran in her veins, but, God help her, she could see no relief from her dilemma. “The earl of Goodney is indeed a fitting husband for me, and I thank you for consideration.”
    â€œDoes that mean you’ll not chase him away?” the king demanded.
    â€œChase him away? I do not understand.”
    â€œFive men I’ve sent to you.” King Henry struck the arm of his chair. “Five! And not one has been able to withstand your lashing tongue.” When she would have spoken, he pointed his finger into her face. “One even went on Crusade and never returned.”
    â€œHe was not worthy.”
    â€œAnd the other four?”
    â€œThey were not worthy, either.” When he would have spoken, she swept over his objection. “My liege, I am no green stalk of wheat who wavers in the contrary breeze.”
    He seemed to ponder that. “That’s true. You’re more like a stalk of yellow wheat stiff with overripe grains.”
    â€œExactly.” She congratulated him on his apt simile,then frowned at the stifled giggles that sounded from the crowd. What did the foolish creatures find so amusing?
    â€œHow old are you now?” Osbern slipped the question in like a thin knife through her ribs.
    She ignored him. It was rude of him to step between her and the king in their conversation. Rude, typical and…menacing.
    â€œShe’s twenty-six.” King Henry answered for her. “The oldest widowed virgin in England, and probably the Continent.”
    Charm oozed from Osbern’s dashing figure, giving him a sheen most men envied. His short dark hair shone almost purple, like a blackbird’s wing. His blue eyes blazed with the heat of interest. His sleek body rippled with muscle when he moved, and when he smiled at Alisoun.
    Dear Lord, how she hated him. Hated him, and feared him.
    â€œNot still a virgin, surely,” he said.
    King Henry froze, then turned slowly to face his cousin. “Do you have personal knowledge of this?”
    In that drawling, detestable tone, he said, “Personal knowledge of the Lady Alisoun would be—”
    â€œDeath.” King Henry interrupted. “I would kill the man who claimed to have deflowered the finest example of English womanhood.”
    Osbern didn’t move. Only his eyes moved, flicking from King Henry to Alisoun and back again, and she saw realization dawn. His desire to insult and implicate her had taken him beyond the bounds of courtesy and into the realm of royal displeasure. He might be Henry’s elder by five years, but Henry was the king and now Osbern would have to scrape. With the grace that characterized his every movement, he swept a bow toAlisoun, a bow that somehow included King Henry and the whole court. “No doubt the Lady Alisoun is yet fit to bear the very symbols of purity which distinguish the Virgin Mary herself, and I would fight the man who insinuated otherwise.”
    King Henry seemed to accept the apology, but Alisoun did not. How could she? She had guarded her reputation and her virtue as a sacred trust, and her name would now be on the lips of the gossips because of one short visit to the court. A mere apology could not wipe the stain away.
    But she had been too well trained to waste time mourning what couldn’t be mended. Instead, she answered the king. “Five men you have ordered me to wed, my liege, but I am a mature woman with simple requirements of my spouse, requirements which have not wavered through the years of my widowhood. I am a noblewoman of royal descent, so my husband must be noble. My wealth is considerable, so