Strangclyf Secret Read Online Free PDF Page A

great powers.”
    Her hushed words carried
to the small group around them, and the monarch’s eyes twinkled at
her compliment. “Let her proceed, Bernon. I will receive the
introduction when she is finished.”
    Bernon suppressed a
mocking snort and shrugged. “Get on with it.”
    Barwolf swallowed and
lowered her gaze. “I need to borrow your dagger, please. I still
cannot find my blade.”
    He removed a pearl-hilted
dagger from the sheath on his belt and handed the weapon to
her.
    “ I need to make a small cut
in your right palm.”
    Holding out his hand, he
watched her make a small nick in the heel of his palm. Then she
placed the tip of the blade against her palm, closed her eyes, and
scrunched her face. That scrunch took on increasingly painful
dimensions that worsened as she pressed the blade.
    She opened one eye then
the other. She looked at her hand, sighed, and tugged on the front
of his tunic. He leaned down, and she whispered, “I apologize,
Bernon. I am a coward. Would you please cut my hand?”
    Accepting the dagger, he
grasped the dainty hand she held out to him. Calluses grated
against his own and he frowned at her rough, reddened flesh. What
in perdition had she been doing with her hands? The boat trip here
could account for the rawness, but those calluses had developed
over time. He rubbed his thumb over the roughened skin. A tiny gasp
slipped from her lips and she trembled as a pink hue highlighted
her cheeks. God’s bones, if she blushed this easily from a
dispassionate touch, how would she react to the bedding? He sighed
and made a small cut in her palm then sheathed his dagger. She
didn’t even flinch and he was somehow intrigued that such a coward
could not only accomplish that feat but could also guide a boat
from Strangclyf to Londontown to save her holding.
    After he finished the
small cut, she placed her wound over his. “May the blood of my
ancestors flow into you, giving you the wisdom of the
ages.”
    She removed her hand from
his, took off the wide metal-link belt and brought forth a large
sword that had been hidden in the folds and sleeve of her gown. It
bore a jewel-encrusted ebony and gold grip and was monumental in
length. She tried slipping the belt around his waist but her
breasts pressed against him. He had no time to savor the moment as
the blood rushed through his veins. She gasped and dropped the
chain then clutched the sword to her chest. “I am sorry, Bernon.
I...I...”
    At her floundering, Bernon
picked up the chain and pulled the end around for her. He would
find the time to explore his bride’s passions later…as soon as
mortally possible.
    She accepted the links
with a tremulous smile and secured the sword at his side. “I give
you Intrepid, the sword of Strangclyf. With her may you always
execute justice with valor.”
    She looked up at him then
cast a nervous gaze around the hall at the people. A scarlet hue
flamed across her cheeks. Returning her gaze to his, she tugged on
the front of his tunic. He rolled his eyes and leaned down. She
quickly placed a gentle hand on each side of his face and
feather-brushed her lips over his. “May my heart temper your might
with mercy.” She released his face and muttered, “There now. That
wasn’t so bad, was it?”
    Bernon didn’t even try to
answer the obviously rhetorical question. He was too surprised by
the current that flowed from her lips into his. She had his heart
pounding and his palms sweating. Hell, he had ignored the court
women too long. That was it. A good lay and he’d be
fine.
    Taking his right hand, she
slipped a ring on his fourth finger. “With this ring I give you the
seal of Strangclyf and rightful claim to my title and holdings.”
Taking a step backward, she looked in his eyes and spoke in a
strong clear voice he hadn’t expected his bride to possess. “Before
Almighty God and these witnesses, I say you are The Strangclyf and
I am no more.”
    His bride reached up and
removed the veil from her