The Fallen One Read Online Free PDF Page A

still making faces,
however.
    “I will not tell her,” she finally
grumbled. “But tell me where you are going. What is in your basket?”
    Cathlina settled down as well, though she
was still eyeing her sister with some anger. Roxane had a way of getting under
her skin.
    “Breads and treats,” she finally said,
returning her attention to her mare as she began to saddle the animal. “I am
going to Brampton to bring them to the man who saved me and Abechail from the
attacker yesterday. It is the least I can do.”
    Roxane followed her sister to the horse and
actually began helping her tack the animal. “The man?” she repeated, thinking
back to the day before and the events surrounding Abechail’s near abduction.
“The big man with the dark hair?”
    Cathlina nodded as she strapped on the
saddle. “Aye,” she said. “He said he would not take a reward but I feel
strongly that I must do something for him. Had he not intervened, surely
Abechail would now be lost. He would not even come to dine with us so I thought
to bring him some manner of treats to show our gratitude.”
    Roxane pulled the bridle off the nail on
the wall above the mare’s head, her manner thoughtful.   “What was his name again?”
    “Mathias.”
    “Mathias? What was his surname?”
    “He did not say.”
    Roxane fussed with the straps on the bridle,
her mind drifting to the very big, very handsome man who had saved her sisters
from tragedy.   He had delightful dark
hair and a sculpted face.  
    “Mathias,” she repeated, somewhat dreamily.
“He was quite handsome, don’t you think?”
    Cathlina could hear the hopeful tone and
she was irritated by it. Her sister had an eye for men, any man, and she could already tell that Roxane’s easily-won
affections were about to shift to yesterday’s hero.
    Cathlina had spent most of the evening
thinking about the dark-haired stranger, pondering his beauteous face and deep,
gentle voice.   The massive arms, the
unruly hair, the twinkle in the green eyes… she was smitten by the picture.   The mysterious Mathias was her private joy and
one else’s, and certainly not her fickle sister. She would not share a secret
fantasy that would surely never be fulfilled. It was but a dream, but it was her dream. She turned swiftly to Roxane,
a finger in her face
    “You will not think of him,” she hissed.
“If anyone is to show affection towards him, it will be me, do you hear?   I was the one he saved, you little fool. You
have Beauson and Dunstan to occupy your affections.   Leave Mathias alone.”
    Roxane looked rather surprised; her sister
never spoke of a man, so this was a rare occurrence.   It also made Roxane very jealous because as
the eldest, she felt it her birthright to have first right of refusal on any
man that crossed the sisters’ path.
    “Beauson and Dunstan are merely father’s
knights,” she said. “They are not men I intend to marry.”
    “Why not?”
    Roxane shrugged her slender shoulders.
“Because they are mere knights,” she repeated. “I will marry a lord.”
    “Then you will put Mathias from your mind
because he is not a lord. He is a smithy.”
    Roxane’s brow furrowed, just as quickly
lifting in realization when she became aware that her sister was right. “You
are correct,” she declared. “He is not a lord.   We are de Laras and therefore must marry well.    Mayhap Father will convince Cousin Tate to
find us wealthy husbands; do you recall when we visited last Christmas and the
fine men that were gathered at Carlisle?”
    “You mean when you first beheld Kenneth St.
Hèver?”
    “I do.”
    “He is a mere knight, Roxy,” Cathlina said,
somewhat gently, although she was thankful that Roxane was off Mathias’ scent.
“He is not a lord. But I am sure there are many other men of standing that
Cousin Tate can align us with.”
    “I hope so,” Roxane said wistfully. “I am
growing rather weary of kissing knights.”
    Cathlina lifted an eyebrow at her.