The Knight Read Online Free PDF Page B

important.”
    All of the attentiveness and tenderness he’d shown her a few minutes ago was gone. He was in warrior mode, his attention already diverted to whatever it was he had to do. “I’m afraid it will have to wait, Jo. I’m already late.”
    “It will only take a few minutes.”
    He frowned, perhaps catching something in her voice. “What is it about?”
    He held out his hand for her and she stood, her skirt falling back into place, hiding all evidence, as if he hadn’t just spent himself between her thighs a few minutes ago.
    She put her hands over her stomach instinctively. “Our future,” she said.
    His brows furrowed in question; he had no idea what she was talking about.
    “Our marriage,” she clarified. Embarrassed to be raising the subject herself, she tried to jest. “We will need to post the banns sooner than you may have intended.”
    The blood slid from his face. “What marriage?”
    In the shocked horror of his expression, Joanna saw the truth. The hideous, terrible, brutal truth. “Forever” and “build her a palace” didn’t mean make her his wife.
    The knowledge rippled through her in a hot, painful wave. Thom had been right, and she’d been wrong—terribly wrong.

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    Coming on the heels of the single most erotic, most pleasurable, most incredible sexual experience of James’s life, Jo’s words were a cold shock. Hell, they were like a plunge into the icy waters of the Hebridean sea in midwinter—bare-arsed naked. His blood, his breath, everything inside him froze.
    She looked up at him, her big blue eyes questioning and anxious. “I thought… I assumed… we would marry,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
    He looked at the woman he’d known since they were both children—who’d grown up with him, who knew what the English had done to his father and what they’d taken from him, who had to know how important his career was to him—as if she were a stranger. He was going to be the greatest knight in Scotland, raising the name of Douglas to dizzying heights. The horror and humiliation of his father’s death—being left to die like a dog—would never be forgiven, but he intended to make sure it was forgotten. No one would ever malign their honor and nobility again.
    “I thought you understood,” he said in disbelief. How could she not understand? She had to understand. He couldn’t marry her. It was impossible. Marriage between them was so out of the realm of possibility, he’d never even considered it. Well, maybe once when he was a lad and didn’t know any better, but his father had set him straight. James had a duty—a responsibility—to marry for the good of his family. His choice of bride had become even more important after his father’s death and Edward had stolen James’s patrimony. His sword would only take him so far.
    The woman he took to wife would be almost as important as the name he was making for himself in war. It would be a woman who would bring him wealth and titles. A woman who would further his ambition and increase the power of the Douglas lordship.
    A woman like Margery Bruce.
    James had every reason to believe—every reason to hope—that the king intended to propose a match between his youngest sister (the king had seven) and James. He’d hinted around it more than once. At three and ten, Margery was old enough to wed. The bedding would wait for a few years, but the marriage would be the culmination of all that James had fought for over the past five years. The blood connection to Bruce would not only strengthen the bond between the families, but also prove just how high James had risen in the king’s regard.
    Randolph wouldn’t be the only kinsman vying for Bruce’s favor.
    James’s rivalry with Sir Thomas Randolph, Bruce’s nephew who’d been rising in the king’s estimation since James had captured him from the English and brought him back into the Scottish fold, had intensified of late. They were always trying