Thanks for the reviews. This chapter is really short so sorry but I did it on the fly. So I will update again soon to make up for it.
Chapter 4
"Ah, here's my beautiful bride-to-be, and well rested, I trust?"
Sir Lucas said jovially as he joined Liz in the chapel for mass the next morning.
Although Liz returned her betrothed's smile, she realized she'd never really noticed how thin his lips were, or that fine clothes, bejeweled fingers and a smooth head of pale blond hair could be less impressive than a plain leather jerkin, woolen breeches, scuffed boots and long hair.
Without waiting for her answer, Lucas lifted her hand and placed it on his forearm, then covered it with his own.
"I wouldn't want you to fall ill, my love." He leaned close. "With only a se'ennight until we're wed."
Only a se'ennight.
Her beloved white-haired father appeared at the chapel door.
When he saw her, he hurried toward them as fast as he could these days.
"Ah, Elizabeth, my dear. And Lucas." He beamed at them both. "Not long now, eh?"
"Every second I must wait to claim my bride seems an eternity," Lucas said, squeezing Liz's hand and sliding her another smile.
What woman in her right mind wouldn't be thrilled to hear those words, or have such a man want to marry her? Liz thought, silently chiding herself as she had a thousand times last night while she lay sleepless in her bed. She'd been rightly pleased when Lucas had asked her to be his wife. Surely any little discontent she felt now would disappear once she was wed.
Then Sir Jason Morgan sauntered into the chapel.
Her heart seemed to stop beating, even as the rest of her body warmed. He was as plainly attired as before, yet he had no need for costly apparel to stand out among the other young noblemen. His air of calm self-assurance, as if he feared no man because he had absolutely no reason to, set him apart far more than his handsome face and powerful body.
He saw her, too, and came to such an abrupt halt, the nobleman following behind nearly walked into him.
As she quickly looked at her feet, she heard Sir Jason mutter, "I beg your pardon."
Holding her breath, she risked a glance in his direction — and wanted to sink right through the chapel floor or dissipate into the thin air like smoke, because Sir Jason was walking directly toward her.
Judging by his expression, there was no doubt that he recognized her.
Now he would discover that the woman who'd so brazenly kissed him was no village wench, but the noble bride whose wedding he'd come to attend.
To be continued...
Please Read & Review