After an eternity of careful debate, he had found one he hoped was perfect...
Callie bit her lip as Sin placed the ring on her finger. As she looked at it, tears filled her eyes. The dainty gold band was elegantly carved with roses and thistles and the deep, dark green emerald shone even in the dim light of the chapel. The roses and thistles were the perfect blend of his English heritage and her Scot’s blood.
Better still, she remembered Simon asking after her favorite color. How kind of Sin to base his choice on that. And her mother had always said that emeralds were the stones of love. That they signified the unification of the heart and soul, and would bring eternal love to the one who wore it.
Her husband’s kindness truly knew no bounds.
Sin jerked as a tear fell onto his hand. Instinctively, he took the ring off her finger as remorse filled him.
He was no good at this sort of thing. A warrior through and through, he knew nothing of women and their trinkets. Leave it to him to bungle such an important moment.
“Forgive me, milady,” he said hoarsely. “I thought you would like it. I’ll get another?—”
She stopped his words by laying her icy fingers to his lips. “It is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. I only cry because I am touched by the thought you must have put into it. Thank you.”
Warmth flooded him. She smiled a smile that made his legs weak and his groin tight. She brushed her gentle fingers against his jaw and dropped her hand to his, then slid the ring back onto her finger.
Perhaps there was a chance for them after all...
Nay, Sin. Don’t even think that. Don’t think it at all. ‘Tis an illusion. A fleeting moment. Sooner or later, the truth will out and she will hate you.
His heart heavy, he listened as the priest joined them together.
Once it was over, Henry led them from the room to the great hall where a feast had been laid out. The hall was crowded with somber nobles who eyed Callie with pity and Sin with open hatred.
Sin paused as he regarded the cold room. Granted no one had ever cared much for his presence, but this went beyond the normal reserve and disdain the courtiers showed him.
One of Henry’s marshals came forward. An older man in his late years, he wore an impeccable gray surcoat and had the look of a harbinger of doom.
He bowed low before Henry and his guard. “Forgive me, Majesty, it seems Roger, the Earl of Rutherington, was found murdered in his cell this morning.” The man’s suspicious gaze went to Sin. “His throat was cut.”
A mortified condemnation rippled through the crowd.
Sin went numb at the news. He heard Simon’s sharp intake of breath behind him and he felt Caledonia’s hand drop three more degrees in temperature.
Convicted without a trial. How very typical.
He stared blankly at the crowd, tempted to hunch over and run about like a crazed animal. It was, after all, what they expected of him.
“Were there any witnesses?” Henry asked.
Again the marshal’s gaze went to Sin. “None, Majesty. ‘Tis as if a phantom had come and gone.”
Against his common sense, Sin glanced to Callie. A stern frown marred her face while she listened to Henry and the marshal speak.
When she locked gazes with Sin, he waited for her to condemn him as the others had. “He is the man who tried to kill you last night?”
“Indeed, madame.”
Once more, he felt her hand grow colder. Worse, he felt it tremble.
His stomach drew tight. He would expect the others to think the worst of him, but for some reason it bothered him greatly that she would.
“We shall have to investigate this matter,” Henry said. “For now, we have a wedding?—”
“Murderer!”
The word rang out across the hall.
