The Bride Tournament Read Online Free PDF Page A

support and superior fighting skills had earned him a title far above any he’d hoped for as the oldest son of an alchemist.
    What could possibly go wrong now?

    Eleanor took Richard’s hand, the jaws of the trap squashing her. She was his, and to prove it he would parade her about like a cow on market day. Yet his skin was warm, somehow soothing. She’d appreciate that comfort, just for a moment.
    Several couples graciously stepped back to clear space. Another song began, suitable for a basse dance. The rhythmic beat almost lulled her into enjoying it. She couldn’t deny Richard cut a fine figure as he completed the slow steps.
    “This day has been one surprise after another for you. I’m sorry for that,” he said.
    “I blame my father.” Bitterness rankled.
    “You deserved to know when we did.”
    His sympathy, his support, startled her. Softened the sharp edge of pain. “My lord,” she began.
    “Richard.”
    “Richard, then. I—”
    His fingers tightened on hers as the dance continued. “You wanted to marry Arthur.”
    “Yes.” Though true, his bluntness stung. She wouldn’t lie, even to spare his feelings or pride. “Arthur told me all you’ve done for him. Perhaps you’ll do one thing more—agree that you and I aren’t truly wed. I argue thusly: my betrothal to Arthur was annulled without my knowledge or consent, so said annulment isn’t valid. ’Tis of course no reflection on you.”
    Why did she care how her words affected him?
    He didn’t speak.
    “Can you know what it is to have hoped for something all of your life, then have it snatched from your grasp?”
    “Yes.” Pain flashed in his gaze, sparking sympathy in her. “And I regret it happened to you. But what we want matters not.” He sounded just like Arthur. “Many, including your father and the king, wish our union. It is done. So let’s make the best of our marriage. Can you, will you, do that?”
    The heat of his gaze made her skin prickle. Eleanor looked down, only to see his muscled thighs flexing as he moved, brushing intimately against her skirts. Their faces were inches apart. His skin was flushed from their exertions, with a thin beading of sweat on his brow. She felt his rapid breathing. His heat burned through her gown. Would this dance never end?
    “I need to sit,” she whispered.
    They returned to their seats. Eleanor’s face ached from forced smiling, her feet throbbed, her stomach threatened to rebel. She rose, prompting a cheer from the men and squeals from the women. Without meaning to, she’d made it time for the bedding.
    What difference did a few minutes make? There was no way to avoid the inevitable procession to the bridal chamber. Eleanor had no need to fear what came after, for she’d ensure there’d be no consummation.
    Women chattered like a nest of hungry birds as they climbed the twisting stairs. In her large chamber, some scattered fresh rose petals on the curtained bed, others helped her undress. She clenched her teeth as they helped her climb into bed and smoothed the covers over her.
    For ages brides had withstood this public display to prove they came to their grooms unblemished. So could she. But there’d be no endless stream of lewd comments and even lewder gestures. Alyce had been instructed to forcibly shoo the crowd out like a herd of swine, if need be.
    Her sister leaned close, arranging Eleanor’s hair over rose scented pillows.
    “Alyce, what am I to do?”
    “What all women do. Accept their fate,” she answered. “What choice do you have? Please, Eleanor, think before you act.” Alyce hugged her, then returned to the others.
    Linen sheets chilled Eleanor’s skin, too-sweet roses made her nose itch. The incessant, shrill giggling was enough to make her clasp her hands over her ears.
    The door burst open, almost crushing a hapless woman behind it. A throng of men swirled into the chamber amidst laughter and stomping feet.
    Richard looked as grim as she felt. He removed his