The Temptation (The Medieval Knights Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

reached for a length of linen to dry herself. She was clean and fortified with prayer, ready to say her vows and bind herself to the man chosen for her. Chosen by Cod, according to Hugh, and therefore accepted with peace and humility.
    Could any man be so humble as all that? Even a man from Jerusalem?
    He was a knight, first and last, a fighting man, a man of blood, as the church named all who fought their way through life. He was a man of blood, not heart, not soul... nay, she sinned by even thinking the thought. All men had souls, the most permanent part of their composition, enduring after all else wasted away in death. Yea, he was a man of soul, but so was she. And she did not yearn to be bound to a man of blood, no matter the gentleness of his words or the compassion in his eyes. Or his beauty.
    It would have been a blessing if they had lied about his beauty.
    He was so golden, so resolutely and perfectly golden. Even his eyes, as green as boughs in winter, held tiny flecks of gold in their deepest depths. A golden man with a golden name.
    Hugh of Jerusalem. He dwelt in the land of the Savior, had walked in the very streets where Christ Himself had trod a thousand years ago. Surely, to even touch the stones where Christ had walked was to be transformed into holiness. And so it seemed, for Hugh was bathed in holy righteousness that shone out from his vibrant eyes.
    Yet, he was still and always only a man.
    But such a man.
    He was close as a brother to Baldwin himself, the King of Jerusalem. He had been at the siege of Ascalon, or so the troubadours sang. Side by side with Baldwin, they had won the city after a siege of six months. Stalwart and patient, quietly relentless, they called him, and so he seemed to be.
    He was to be her husband upon the hour. Did she want a stalwart husband? Would even a patient man give her what she wanted?
    She did not know, and no amount of praying would divine the answer.
    How did he find her?
    He seemed well content with what he had seen of her thus far. Aye, and she was well-propertied, that was the extent of her attraction. The world was most predictable, once it was reasoned out. She would give him what he wanted: property. And she would then get what she wanted: a way out. He could give her that. He would have no need to withhold it from her. His place was in Jerusalem, his name made in this life, his course set. He had no need of an English wife.
    She could be patient as well as any man.
    If only she did not have to be a wife. Yet, to be the wife of Hugh might be an easier task than to be the daughter of Gautier. Hugh had to be easier to manage; none could be more difficult than her father. How best to manage a man? She had never learned the answer to that, though Isabel had tried to show her. Her mother's counsel had been easier: Learn to manage yourself. That she could do.
    With that thought in mind, she considered what gown to wear. Shivering in the linen wrapped around her torso, she dug through her trunk. The undergarment she had been searching for seemed to fly into her hand with a will; she chose to see it as a sign of benediction. Her choice was a wise one, God be praised.
    Over her white linen chemise, she wore a pelisse of rich and vibrant red, the wool supple, the neckline and the narrow wrists decorated with a pattern of flowing leaves in creamy yellow. Her bliaut followed, a simple garment of flawless white, much like the surcoat Hugh wore. She arranged about her hips a girdle of golden rings; she would not wear a jeweled girdle. She would not come to him glittering and eager, her hips, the mark of her ability to breed, outlined, a sparkling temptation. She was just as holy as he, her garments and her soul just as pure as his, though she had lived her life in England.
    He would not best her in holiness.
    Her hair she brushed until it shone in waves to the middle of her back. About her head she fastened a headband set with small and modest garnets. It was her only adornment,