The Maiden Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

they were children. Linnea felt a closeness to her sister that she hadn’t felt in a long time, and her need to protect this most beloved of her family from any harm swelled to even greater proportions.
    Beatrix was the first to pull back. “I must go to Maynard—”
    “No! No,” Linnea countered, holding onto her sister’s arm. “You shouldn’t go out into the bailey alone, not with all those men.”
    “Norma will be with me.” Beatrix looked over at their nurse who had lowered herself to a bench and was still breathing hard.
    “No, Norma will go with me,” Linnea stated.
    “But you heard what grandmother said. You’re to stay here. I’m to go to Maynard.”
    But Linnea was determined. As terrified as she was of what she would find outside—both the bloodthirsty invaders as well as her brother’s physical condition—she was even more terrified of the thought of Beatrix having to deal with them. “Maynard will be bleeding,” she said, speaking quickly before she lost her nerve. “You know I’m much less squeamish than you. ‘Tis better if I go.” Besides, this is my only chance to show grandmother that it’s not my fault. If I can save Maynard …
    “But what if he dies?” Beatrix asked in a trembling whisper, somehow knowing Linnea’s thoughts.
    Linnea didn’t want to think about that. “Come with me, Norma. We must hurry. Quick, Bea. Change gowns with me, then lock yourself inside here and do not open that door save for one of your family.”
    Beatrix hesitated a moment, and Linnea knew why. They’d not switched identities in many a year—not since their mother had died and their grandmother had forbidden the childish prank. The one time since then that they’d done it, they’d been severely punished—or at least Linnea had been. But finally Beatrix nodded, afraid, but willing as ever to go along with one of Linnea’s outrageous plans.
    It had always been thus. Linnea reckless and daring; Beatrix cautious and trusting. Linnea didn’t truly mind the punishments she earned when they were for some disobedience on her part—and she didn’t mind when Beatrix never suffered such punishments, for she knew Beatrix only came along because Linnea coerced her. No, it was only the unfair punishments she resented: being ostracized from her own family; not being loved as much; never having any of the fineries Beatrix was given.
    Linnea peeled off her own plain kirtle of faded plunkett cloth. It boasted neither braid nor embroidered trim. The gown she received from Beatrix, however, was bias cut from a fine weave of double twill kersey in a rich forest green. Gold braid circled the neck hole and ran partway down the front of the bodice. A narrow leather girdle worked in a continuing design of Celtic knots and mythical beasts went around her waist. She slipped the beautiful garment over her coarse chemise, for a moment forgetting the circumstances that forced them to chance this exchange of identities. She could almost believe she was the first daughter when she wore such a lovely gown—and it was far from the finest of Beatrix’s gowns. But Beatrix’s meanest gown was better than Linnea’s best.
    Linnea smoothed her hands down the skirt, then looped the girdle around her waist. Only when she pulled her thick plait out of the neck hole and looked over at Beatrix did reality once more intrude.
    Was that how she looked in her plain garments? No, it could not be and for a moment she feared her ruse would fail. For even in such drab work clothes, Beatrix was still beautiful. Everyone would see through their deception.
    “Lord, ha’ mercy,” Norma muttered just then, staring from one to the other of her charges. “If it weren’t for that birthmark setting the two of you apart …”
    She trailed off, but Linnea felt better for her words. Maybe the differences between her and her sister were not as obvious to others as they were to her.
    “Don’t be forgettin’ the keys,” Norma said, but in a