Free The Redeeming by Tamara Leigh Page A

stared at her. Gaenor was pretty. Though most women appeared at their best in dim light that hid their flaws, it did a disservice to the woman before him.
    Day’s light crowned her bare head, turned through and lightened her dark blonde hair, brushed the tips of her lashes, sparkled in her brown eyes, and fondly touched the bow of her upper lip. Sunlight became her.
    “Sir Matthew, I thought you were my brother, Everard.”
    “My apologies, Lady Gaenor. I did not intend to startle you.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Keeping our meeting.”
    “But our meeting was some hours ago. And you did not come.”
    “My delay was unavoidable. Could I have sent word, I would have.”
    Her lids narrowed. “What kept you?”
    “Your brother took me to the wood ere dawn that I might demonstrate my ability to detect sound amidst silence.”
    She lowered her gaze over him. “Only now you are returning?”
    “Aye, my lady.” He looked down and grimaced at the state of his tunic that bore evidence of his contest in the wood. “When I found you absent from the chapel, I determined to seek you out.”
    “You should not have.”
    “And have you, the whole day, believe me incapable of keeping my word?”
    A smile crept back onto her lips. “I did think that.”
    He took the last stairs up to the rooftop but, as he stepped forward, she motioned for him to stay low. “You might be seen!”
    It was possible, though only between the notches in the tower wall, as the donjon rose above the outer walls. Still, Christian bent as he crossed to her side. There, he turned his back to the wall and lowered to his haunches.
    She looked up at him. “Surely you considered I would be under guard?”
    “I did.”
    “And had I been?”
    “My tongue would have had to prove as swift as my sword.”
    She arched an eyebrow. “You think it possible?”
    Christian was surprised by the ease with which laughter rose from him. “I do not. Doubtless, I would find myself dragged before your brothers.” Worse, he would be revealed.
    Gaenor studied the man whose face was so near, whose unexpected appearance had stolen her breath, whose laughter sent a thrill through her, whose body smelled of salt and steel, who made her fear for a heart already wounded.
    Pulling her gaze from his gold-flecked eyes, she looked down. Why did the Lord not deny her this knight’s company as she ought to be denied—as she had tried to accept when Sir Matthew had not come to the chapel?
    “You have been reading?” he asked.
    She glanced at the psalter in her lap and felt a pang at having been caught delving the Lord’s word as if in dire need of counsel—which she was. She curled her fingers around the book’s thick spine. “Mostly, I have enjoyed the sun.”
    “I am intrigued, as most ladies eschew the outdoors for fear of freckling. You have no such concern?”
    As if freckles would detract from her long face and uneven features…
    She looked up and saw he had drawn nearer yet. “Though I would not disappoint you, Sir Matthew, I confess I am not the same as most ladies. I like the sun. Thus, when it deigns to come out from behind the clouds, I seek it—regardless of freckles, regardless of skin that does not gleam like alabaster.”
    “I am not disappointed, Lady Gaenor. As told, I am intrigued. Indeed, I much prefer the warmth of your skin.” He swept fingers across her lower jaw.
    I am not breathing. Is he? Drawn to his mouth, Gaenor watched as his smile lowered and lips parted.
    “Will you allow it, my lady?”
    Do not, a small voice reminded her of the last time she had allowed a man so near. It would be terrible folly to have such pain visited on her again. And it was wrong.
    She gripped the psalter tighter. Only a short while ago, she had prayed for the Lord’s guidance and now she longed to turn from it. To allow him to kiss her. To sin again.
    She met Sir Matthew’s gaze and feared she might become lost in those golden flecks. “I cannot, for I