Now she would marry.
A stranger.
A man she did not want.
Coldness wrapped around her heart. Like a fool, she stared at the cross, awaited the sensation of hope, of anything to assure her that somehow, in this mayhem she would find a sliver of peace.
The reckless wavering of the candles on the altar smeared the ceiling with broken shadows, as if mocking her dreams.
Disgusted she’d sought any optimism within these walls, allowed herself to turn to Him for hope when her prayers had gone unanswered many times in the past, she turned to leave, then paused. She glanced toward the basket near the statue of Jesus, which needed to be stowed away. A task she’d planned to tend to tomorrow, but now here, she may as well complete it.
With a tired sigh, she moved behind the ornate carving. Enveloped within the shadows, she knelt in the corner, opened the hidden door. With care, she set the oils upon the shelves.
The soft scrape of the door sounded.
Through the slight opening between the statue and wall, she glanced up, stilled.
Silhouetted in the stream of golden light stood Lord Balfour, his imposing presence seeming tofill the room.
Her heart tripped a beat. She should stand and announce her presence. Torn between finding herself alone with the daunting noble and her curiosity at why he’d come to the chapel when he must be exhausted, she remained silent.
Tenseseconds passed.
She waited for him to leave.
After a moment, he walked to the front pew, knelt, made the sign of the cross, andbegan to pray.
As his soft, deep murmurs of the Our Father rumbled through the sacred chamber,she hesitated.
Latin?
Not that she should be surprised. Given the title he would one day inherit, in his youth he would have been taught Latin and French, along with several other languages that would serve him in his future dealings.
After finishing the Paternoster, her betrothed started anew.
Gwendolyn squeezed the bottle in her hand as she leaned forward. Why would he repeat the prayer? Her skin tingled with each word, more so when, after he finished the prayer, he started once more.
Against her will, she felt a connection to the man who knelt, head bent before the altar, as if he too searched for answers in these tumultuous times.
Perhaps the good Pieres had suggested lay within him was truly there, which would explain her own baffling pull toher betrothed.
Her foot started to go numb. Gwendolyn shifted and lost her balance. On a gasp, she caught herself on the door, and the aged wood gavea soft squeak.
Lord Balfour stilled. In the somber light, cold eyes narrowed on her. Like a panther, he unfurled his muscled body, his hand smoothly withdrawing his dagger as he stood. “Whoever is there,show yourself.”
Chapter 3
The soft glow of candles exposed Lady Gwendolyn as she stepped into the light. Despite the relative darkness, her hair gleamed with warmth, and her dress fluttered around herwomanly curves.
God’s sword, what was she doing here? Cailin and Rónán were to join him at any time. If she’d listened in on their conversation, ’twould have put all their lives in danger.
“Why did you not show yourself when I entered?” he challenged, irritated he hadn’t noticed her when he’d stepped inside, nor taken a moment to inspect the chamber.
Defiance flashed in her eyes. “I owe you nay explanation for my presenceinmychapel.”
She damn well did, a fact they both knew. From their first meeting in the stable, she’d held her ground, exposed her stubbornness, but that did not excuse her impropriety. “Why were you spying on me?” he demanded, thankful ’twas only prayers she’d overheard.
“Iwasna spying.”
