Free Fairest Of Them All by Teresa Medeiros Page B

eyes, a faint frown of bewilderment creased his brow. Holly quickly inclined her head. There had been nothing she or Elspeth could do to disguise the unusual hue of her eyes.
    She expected him to boldly proclaim his victory. She expected him to demand of her papa the prize that was his due. What she did not expect was the ethereal brush of bluebell petals against her ears as he settled the chaplet of flowers on her brow, ringing the ugliness of her shorn head with the unspoiled beauty of a child’s generosity.
    A tremor of shame went through her as he dropped to one knee at her feet, bowed his shaggy head, and brought her hand to his lips. “My lady,” he said, the simple words both tribute and vow.

CHAPTER 7
     
    Holly slipped into the castle chapel, forsaking the warmth of the afternoon sun for a dank coolness’preserved year round by stone walls six feet thick. She had retreated to this place to seek her own counsel, but was not surprised to find her papa standing over her mother’s tomb, his hands splayed over the granite as if to draw strength from it
    She crept silently to his side. Her mother’s carved effigy bore none of the warmth Holly remembered. Felicia de Chastel had not been the beauty her daughter was. Her charm was of the more subtle variety, her snub nose and cherubic mouth hinting at a delight in life impossible to recreate in stone, no matter how talented the artist.
    “Papa?” Holly dared.
    Her father’s graceless fingers caressed the carved tendrils of his wife’s hair. “I have failed her. I have failed you both.”
    His pain wounded Holly in ways she had not anticipated. “Of course, you haven’t! Why if Mother were here, she’d probably be laughing right now, thinking this all a great jest.”
    “I’m glad she’s dead.” Holly recoiled from his stark words. “Better dead than forced to witness such a debacle. She warned me of your strong will, said I might have to take harsh measures to protect you from yourself. But I failed to heed her. From the moment she died, I let that will rule our lives. When you cried, I nearly wept myself. When you pouted and sulked, I gave in to your demands. Now my weakness has brought us all to ruin.”
    like everyone else at Tewksbury, her father seemed to be having difficulty looking at her. Holly seized his dangling sleeve, desperate to evoke some familiar response from him. “Not ruin, Papa, surely. Perhaps if we go to this Sir Austyn, the both of us together, and explain ... he seems a reasonable enough fellow.”
    The words sounded hollow, even to Holly. She was talking about a man who had chased her through a garden with drawn sword, accused her of witchcraft, kissed her with a tender hunger that still had the power to make her toes curl, then proceeded to alternately threaten to ravish her and chasten her for behaving the strumpet Reasonable indeed!
    “If he was very angry with us, might you not lock him away in the dungeon?” she inquired timidly, ignoring a twinge of guilt. “Just for a few years until his temper cools?”
    Her papa’s sleeve was torn from her fingers as he paced away from her. His voice echoed from the rafters like cracks of thunder portending a mighty storm. “Aye, let us go to him together, this Gavenmore, and explain how your fine jest has made a mockery of the both of us! We shall tell him that I intend to break my vow to deliver you as bride to the champion of the tournament and forever cast a shadow on the name of Tewksbury. And if he chooses to lay siege to the castle and take you by force, what then? Will he still honor you with marriage or will he seek to punish you for making such a jape of him?” Her father pivoted on his heel, flinging his shout in her bloodless face. “Aye, we shall go to him, you and I, and explain that it was no more than a cruel, childish prank that brought a proud and mighty warrior to his knees at your feet!”
    Holly pressed her fingertips to her lips to still their trembling. His