Free Virgin Bride by Tamara Leigh Page B

maligned character. Feeling a flush of color steal up her neck to inflame her face, she nodded. "I am Lady Graeye Charwyck," she said, feeling her voice was far too husky. Except for a barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes, the baron seemed not to notice. "But I am not—"
    "Graeye." He spoke over her words, then rolled the name upon his tongue a second time. "Appropriate," he pronounced with an inclination of his head. "And what is your name in religion, Sister?"
    She shook her head, taking a step backward when he moved nearer. Immediately, she chastised herself for the retreat, but could not check the impulse to take another step away from this daunting person. As she did so, it crossed her mind that she was forever running away from those who threatened her. She hated herself for it. Still, as it was the only comfort she knew, she gave over to shielding herself, throwing a hand out before her in hopes of warding off his advance.
    "I am not of the sisterhood," she said.
    Her words stopped him. His long shadow falling over her, he searched her pale face before commenting on her claim.
    "Naturally, I spoke literally when I afforded you the title of Sister," he snapped. "I was not speaking of your genuine disposition. Do we not both know what that is?"
    Her eyebrows flew high, skimming the crisp headband at her forehead. She tried again to clarify the misunderstanding. "I am not a nun."
    "Certainly not after last night." He took another step forward, and his long, hard leg brushed her skirts.
    Dismayed, Graeye found she could retreat no farther from his menace, for the kneeler was against the backs of her calves. "Nay, you do not understand," she said, her neck-strained by the angle she had to hold her head to look up at him. "I do not play with words. I speak true when I say I am not a nun. I have not yet made my profession."
    When his hands suddenly descended to her shoulders, she nearly shrieked. Grappling with a fear that threatened to shatter her, she dropped her head and stared sightlessly at the bare space between them.
    He gave her a brusque shake, his fingers biting cruelly into her—hands so different from the ones that had caressed her in the pool.
    One of those hands pulled her chin up, forcing her to look into his hardened face. "If you are not a nun," he ground out, "then why do you dress as one?"
    Again she was made aware of how angry he was. Not only the planes of his face evidenced this ominous emotion, but also the tautness of his body where it brushed against hers.
    "I am ..." Her words trailed off as she gave herself a mental shake. Muddling through the words in her mind, she found it difficult to formulate a coherent explanation with him so near. This strange mixture of fear and desire confounded her.
    "I was a novice," she managed after a lengthy struggle, " 'Tis my bridal habit I wear." She glanced down at the voluminous folds of material, then back up at him. "I was to have been professed the day my father sent for me."
    He looked incredulous. " 'Tis true you have not taken your vows?"
    "Aye, 'tis what I have said."
    With a bark of laughter the baron released her and swung away. " 'Tis a great burden you have lifted from me," he said, moving to the front bench and dropping down upon it. He stretched his legs out before him and placed both hands behind his head, looking every bit as if he meant to settle himself in for a time.
    "For this I thank you, Lady Graeye. Now I may rest a bit easier." His gaze swept the length of her before piercing her once again. "I am certain that if there is a God, he would not have been kindly disposed toward my taking the virginity of his son's bride."
    Astonished by his nonchalant words, Graeye took a step forward. "If there is a God?" she repeated. "Surely, you speak heresy."
    His mouth lifting in a sardonic smile, he set himself to kneading his thigh. "Heresy?" He shrugged. "I merely question His existence. Do you believe in Him?"
    Graeye's fear was suddenly displaced