The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch Read Online Free PDF Page B

many years of war had taken a
horrible toll. Aldric’s frame looked almost gaunt beneath his royal
robes. His face, once as craggy and solid as the mountains he
ruled, and tanned by Châlons’ bright sunlight, had become pale,
deeply lined, his skin sagging loosely from his cheekbones. Naught
remained of the man Royce remembered—except the regal bearing and
the fierce blue eyes.
    It was almost enough to make him bow, grant
the courtesy that he had denied. Saints’ blood, it was almost
enough to send him to his knees.
    But he instantly quelled that impulse as
well. Aldric would loathe pity even more than he loathed defiance.
Any gesture of respect now would be met with scorn.
    Besides, he reminded himself, any respect
they had felt for each other had been demolished four years
ago.
    So he fought to keep his face impassive and
merely dropped his gaze, unable to bear looking at this man he had
once so admired.
    Aldric stopped a few paces away. “You ask my
purpose in summoning you here. Does that mean you have not heard
that our war with Thuringia ended?”
    Royce shrugged. “I have heard that it ended,
naught more. I have not made it my habit to seek out news of
Châlons.” That was an understatement. “And it is not my war.” He lifted his head, shot an accusing glare into those blue
eyes. “I have no family left here. No lands. No position. No
connection at all. Châlons and its battles are no longer any
concern of mine.”
    “If that were true, you would not be
standing before me. You endured a brutal journey and an ascent up
this peak that would have killed many men. Even men of Châlons.” A
certain satisfied gleam came into Aldric’s eyes. “And I said naught
of reward or pardon, only that your country has need of you.” He
glanced at Royce’s injured hand. “It would appear you are still
willing to spill your blood in service to your homeland,
Saint-Michel. You cannot pretend that you do not care.”
    Royce turned away, hating that he had no
skill at hiding his feelings, despising the twinge of hope that
went through him upon hearing the word pardon .
    He picked up a battered wooden goblet from a
nearby trestle table and turned it round in his fingers,
wishing—not for the first time—that he possessed Aldric’s stoicism.
He usually found it impossible to tell what the king was thinking
or feeling. He himself, on the other hand, tended to be as
transparent as glass.
    That was one of the last remaining legacies
of his clan. No one had ever accused a Ferrano of being reserved or
subdued. He had grown up surrounded by unruly brothers, giggling
sisters, parents deeply in love and unafraid to show it.
    And he was still too blasted emotional.
    “I am curious, Your Majesty,” he said,
struggling to keep his tone neutral, “to know how you managed the ascent up this peak.”
    “I did not have to. There is another way
into the abbey, a secret tunnel through the mountain.”
    Royce set the cup down a bit too sharply.
“You might have mentioned that to me.”
    “I could not risk revealing such information
in my letter. The missive could have fallen into the wrong hands.”
The king paused. “And I needed to make certain you were equal to
the task I have in mind. I needed you to—”
    “Prove myself.” He spun to face his former
liege lord. “Of course. I am relieved that I did not disappoint
you. This time. And now that you have tested both my loyalty
and my stamina, mayhap you would tell me what this ‘task’ is. The
situation must indeed be desperate for you to stoop so low as to
call upon me.”
    “It concerns the peace agreement with
Thuringia.”
    Royce choked out a strangled laugh, his mind
and memory reeling with disbelief. “Surely you do not intend to
involve me in the peace negotiations—”
    “Nay, the agreement was reached soon after
the war ended. The arrangements have all been made.”
    He said it with such finality that Royce
fell silent for a moment, a seed of foreboding planted