Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Denys, holding
     her close.

She could feel the slight swell of Anne's middle between them, and
     at that moment she realized what carrying a child would feel like.

She would have a tiny being inside her, who would love and trust
     her always….

Something shifted inside Denys at last. The cold fist of fear
     which had squeezed at her heart ever since she had nearly been
     killed in the fire finally let go of its chilling grip.

Denys was not going to be a victim. Life was all about risk, but
     there were rewards, too. She was going to live her life on her own
     terms, and seize all of the bounty it had to offer.

She could not change the past. The only thing she could alter was
     her attitude toward the future. The future she would have with her
     new husband .

Valentine might well be all those things she feared and more, but
     to hold herself back from the chance at love and a child and
     family of her own was the act of a coward. And whoever her real
     family might be, she was sure they were no cowards.

She wanted them to be proud of her. She needed to be able to hold
     her head high no matter what the Queen had done to her in the
     past, or would try to do in the future. But as Valentine's wife,
     she would have status, and be free of the guardianship of the
     Woodvilles at last.

Free to be the woman she wished to be, and yes, free to be the
     wife Valentine claimed he wanted. If she opened her heart and mind
     to him, she could become a true helpmeet and consort, as Anne
     clearly was to Richard, one of the most important princes of the
     realm.

She had two choices. Be Elizabeth's powerless ward, or Valentine's
     powerful wife.

She squared her shoulders, and nodded. "Yes, yes, I will wear it,
     thank you. Sister ."

Anne's radiant smile was all the reply Denys needed.

 

CHAPTER
     SIX

As Denys glided down the chapel aisle, she could see, through the
     mist of her veil the man who within minutes would become her
     husband.

Valentine was a portrait of grandeur in his crimson robe, a
     rainbow of jewels sparkling from his fingers and neck.

Forcing herself to walk towards him, some lingering creepings of
     doubt almost made her pause, but she strode forward as if an
     invisible force were drawing her to him.

The chapel was aglow from candles lining the altar. The sun
     streamed through the stained glass, throwing patterns of soft reds
     and greens on the flagstones beneath her feet.

Once at the altar, she did not meet his eye, but allowed him to
     take her hand numbly. She recited the vows as if by rote, her tone
     flat, for she could not feel anything stir within her regarding
     their meaning and what they symbolized. This was a political
     alliance, not a love match….

Yet oddly, Valentine spoke his vows as if reciting a love poem,
     his Latin perfect, his heartfelt gaze boring into her, his voice
     somber and deep with meaning and emotion.

She dared to meet his eyes for a moment, then forced herself to
     look away, for his gaze was so penetrating, so earnest, it burned
     right through to her soul.

Although she still harbored serious doubts about this man, she
     regarded the way he spoke to her with his impassioned eyes. It was
     as if she was the most important person in his life.

All too soon the ceremony was over. She closed her eyes as
     Valentine gently lifted her veil. She could feel the quiver of his
     lips as he kissed her. When their eyes met for the first time as
     man and wife, she could see him struggling to hold back a grin.

"It was nice of you to come to my wedding," he remarked out of the
     side of his mouth.

"You're welcome, my Lord. Thank you for the consideration as
     well."

His gaze narrowed slightly, but Richard and Anne were already by
     their sides to congratulate them and get the celebrations
     underway.

The marshal ushered the bride and groom into Middleham's great
     hall to the fanfare of trumpets and clarions hanging with
     Valentine's coat of arms. They sat at Richard and