Read Love Thine Enemy for Free Online Page B

her
teeth into his palm.
    " Sacre bleu!”   He jerked his hand away. 
"I doubt I'll ever again be able to hold my sword.”  Tightening his arm
under her breasts, he carried her like a captured lamb along the hall they had
just traversed.  “Now, which way to your bed?"
    She wrenched in his arms and struck backward with her
elbows hitting muscle and steel.  " Mon Dieu, knight, you're a worse
brute than Marcel, for he didn't possess a third of your strength."  She
bucked against his body.  "You'll not take me, Avenger.  I'll do all
within my power--"
    "Cease, bride."
    "Bride?"  Griselda, who had been a servant at
DuBois since before Rochelle's birth, brushed wine from her brown woolen
sleeves while she stood amidst the broken pottery and burgundy-stained rushes. 
Her gray hair straggled, witch-like, over her horridly scarred face as she
wailed in a gravelly voice.
    "Take a bride and cause disaster.
    Doubt me?  Addelty paddelty, ask
her."
    Becket paused.  “Addelty paddelty?”
    “’Tis filler words she uses to keep the rhythm.  Now,
let me go!”  Rochelle pulled at his vise-like hands for release, but she had no
more effect than the wind.
      “Out of my way, witch, or I’ll use you as filler for
a new wall.”  Becket continued his victorious stride toward the old woman. 
    Griselda screeched like a madwoman, then crouched in
Becket's path, pale eyes peering through a wild mane of white hair.
    "Marcel did try.  And now he's
dung.
    She's hexed.  Bewitched.---"
    "And you'll be hung!  Now, away!"  Becket
stomped toward Henri, his comrade-in-greed who leaned against the wall in apparent
enjoyment of the scene. 
    As Rochelle struggled, she marveled at her gratitude to
the insane servant for her weird attempt at rescuing her lady.  The woman made
her nervous, always watching her from shadowy corners and appearing in odd
places as if by sorcery.
    Griselda spun in a crazed type of dance.
    “War and death will come, and worse.
    On you I’ll put a deadly curse.
    Addelty paddelty, think ‘tis drivel?
    Take her."
    She halted her spin, pointing a finger to below
Becket's waist.
    "Watch your manhood shrivel.”
    Becket froze, his face pale as he glanced at what would
have been the direction of his male part if Rochelle's body hadn't blocked his
view.  Then he scoffed.  "Nonsense.  And 'tis none of your affair,
woman."
    "Oh, addelty paddelty.  Addelty paddelty." 
Griselda limped hurriedly along the dark hallway carrying the now-empty wine
tray.
    Becket nodded to Henri.  "Watch out for that mad
woman and make certain no one warns Gaston until the proper moment."
    Proper moment.  Lifetime of planning.  
Outwardly she stilled, but inwardly her pulse raged so intense with her fear
and fury that surely Becket felt the wild throbs through his armor, felt the
gasping heave of her chest above his iron-like clamp.
    Henri displayed a smug grin and raked her with his gray
gaze.  "Ah, the sacrifices men must make in battle.  If you're not willing
to make the thrust for victory, Becket, I offer myself for service in your
stead."
    "This treasure is mine to claim, friend.  And only
my key will fit the lock." 
    His deep-toned declaration rang like a death-knell to
her womanhood.  Becket swung her up into his arms in a possessive gesture and
her heart near leapt through her bruised ribs. 
    "Now, wife, tell me the way to your bed, or I'll
take you into the first empty chamber I find."
    Rochelle struck him with her heels.  "Leave me
be!  You will not bed me!"
    Becket stormed toward the room occupied by her
companion, Angelique.
    Rochelle opened her mouth to protest, but Becket kicked
the door against the wall.
    Bathed in window-light, Angelique screamed in alarm
from where she held up a most-likely newly-received bauble from some dazed
admirer.  
    "Lady Angelique, hide!"  Rochelle knew she
struggled in Becket's arms like a sheep carried to slaughter, but if she could
just break loose . . .
    Becket tightened