Read Love Thine Enemy for Free Online

priest saved her from the devil.
    And yet Becket exuded confidence, not defeat.  He
nodded toward the door.  "Henri.  Entré. "
    The man too old to be Becket's squire stepped into the
doorway, sword drawn.
    Rochelle stiffened.  Surely she misunderstood his
intentions, for no man would dare threaten a priest.
      Père Bertrand went motionless.  "You risk
your soul by coercing a man of God?"
    Becket shrugged.  "The authority who wishes me as
lord of DuBois ranks almost as high.  The king."
    Shocked, Rochelle jerked her attention up to Becket's
eyes so afire with dark determination.  "If so, knight, why didn't King
Jean send notice to my father?  Why didn't you mention the news at first
instead of all that pretense?"  She narrowed her gaze.  "Unless you
lie."
    Père Bertrand gripped Becket's
shoulder.  "I would see the king's seal of authority."
    Becket shifted his gaze to the so-called squire named
Henri.  "Show him our authority."
    Henri ambled into the chamber, the tip of his sword
pointed at Père Bertrand. 
    Rochelle's blood drained from her face, leaving her
cold and clammy.  If Becket dared to threaten a priest, then a young
unfortunate like Pierre would be swept aside like discarded refuse and left to
die.  And yet she must react to the crisis of the moment and protect Père Bertrand. 
    Rochelle jerked against Becket's hold.  "Let's be
done with this mockery, knight."
    The priest stared at the papers he held in his fist,
then at the sword, as if weighing his options.  He retreated a step.
    Becket grasped her icy hand.  She hated that she
trembled.  Summoning a facade of bravery, Rochelle straightened her shoulders
and lifted her chin, her body as rigid as her ever-thickening wall of defense.
    Becket pulled up to his full height.  " Père Bertrand.  Perform the service.  DuBois is in need of a new lord."
    No.   Only until her father died, then
Becket would be dismissed.  The priest would surely agree to an annulment.  And
although her father claimed otherwise, the DuBois knights would aid her cause,
she knew they would.  Also she would appeal to the king, explain how the royal
coffers would receive increased taxes from a more prosperous DuBois if she
ruled alone.  As added surety, she would plead his majesty’s protection from
both Becket and Gaston.  Then at last, Pierre and DuBois would be safe.
    Somehow, Rochelle stood erect while the priest blessed
what she would make certain would never be.  She struggled to answer at the
appropriate moments.  Every time Becket touched her hand or her arm, that same
frisson of heat unnerved her already shaky stability.  Every time he spoke a
vow, the fathomless timbre of his voice vibrated into her chest.  Her heart
thundered in response:  Danger.
    Becket turned her to face him.  Did he intend to kiss
her?  Were they now wed?  Bile rose to her throat.
    "Now, ma femme , we must sign the
papers."  He guided her to the document-covered table where he scrawled
his name with a flourish, then he handed her the quill.
    He called her his wife.  Numb with shock, she stared at
the sharpened feather, the vane stiff within her fingers.
    "Sign the papers, Lady Rochelle."
    The steely tone of Becket's voice prompted further
hesitation, and yet Henri pressed the tip of his sword against Père Bertrand's side.  She stared at the parchment that lay upon the wooden planks,
the edges curled at each end as if impatient to scroll into its proper form and
be done with the farce.
    Her signature.
    So official.
    Perspiration trickled between her breasts, soaking into
her gown.  One error and Pierre might die.  With a prayer in her heart, she
struggled to steady the tremble of her hand as she dipped the quill into the
ink.  She took a deep breath for control, then scratched her name on the
certificate.
    She heard Becket release a deep sigh.
    Not for long, knight.  You'll not have me, or DuBois.
    Père Bertrand glowered his
anger at Becket. "Despite what you say