A Love Unveiled

Chapter Thirty

            The next day, Alana could think of none other than the words Fallon had whispered earnestly to her in the hall.

            Even now, as she recalled his troth, she felt a sliver of fear. She could not allow him to betray William, or Curran, no matter how great her revulsion for the man, she didn’t have the heart to sever those bonds and potentially hurt him in some way.

            To his king, Fallon was a liability, as well as to his people, though they denied him, she saw Fallon for the equal and fair man that he was.

            “I ponder, whose face you envision, to bring such a look to your eyes.”

            Alana spun around, so absorbed in her thoughts; she hadn’t heard her chamber door open.

            Her eyes narrowed angrily on Curran, relaxed against the wall, “You do not have the liberty to come and go as you please among my chambers.” She raised her chin, “Get out.”

            The uncanny glint that magnified the gray of his eyes altered to that piercing silver as he pushed away from the wall, stepping toward her.

            Once again, she was given the impression of a wolf, and oh, how she longed for her lion.

            “You are my betrothed…” his voice held a tinge of anger, a slight mixture of determination- “If it suits me to have you in my sight at all hours of the day, than I shall do so, perhaps I may even use a manacle to link you permanently to my ankle?”

            Her chest rose with a violent breath. He was taunting her; pulling on her defiant strings to trigger a response. She knew he reveled in that; her defiance, her fiery nature.

            He came to stand over her, his silver eyes hardening with disappointment, “You have naught to say from that pretty mouth?” his expression darkened, “Your heart belongs to my brother, but I will see to breaking that.”

           

            Rosalind flattened her body against the wall as Curran stepped into the hall; her mouth thinning into a grim line.

            This just wouldn’t do. She and Curran had an agreement, unfortunately for her; he failed to mention his own motives of their arrangement.

            She wanted Alana gone! Far from Fallon’s sight and touch. The very thought of her husband-to-be touching another woman left her livid.

            She would not abide it. They were to marry and she intended to have her fearsome husband all to herself. She certainly wasn’t willing to share him, especially with a lowly serf. What could he possibly see in that insufferable peasant? Her hair was too red, to rich of a color to catch any man’s wandering eye. Her eyes were unusual, too extraordinary.

            Rosalind grimaced. No, this just would not do.

            She would have to see in ridding herself of the wretched girl and who best to do the task but herself?

            Fallon had searched the hall all midday for Alana, but she hadn’t turned up anywhere. It disturbed him deeply to know that Curran could be following her shadow. His brother was not to be trusted, especially with a woman as beautiful as Alana.

            Yet, he was not a fool to the emotions reflected there in those damning silver eyes. Curran would never admit it, but Fallon believed him capable of loving Alana.

            Curran had never loved, of that, he was certain. His brother was a man driven only by influential power and the obsession to be unconquerable.

            Curran was exceptionally skillful as a warrior; swift and agile on foot, undeniably lethal with hilt in hand, but his insatiable thirst to be unrivaled could potentially be his downfall. He was at times brash and impulsive, and that led to mistakes, and mistakes lead to death.

            Once again, Curran had faulted, that mistake being Alana.

            Brother or not, ally or adversary, Fallon would not be swayed in his decision to have Alana. She belonged to him and no other. She was his woman and he would see to staking claim on what was rightfully his.

            He made his way to the hall and nearly collided with one of the serfs. “My apologies, milord.” The man produced a missive, “This just arrived for you.”

            He accepted the missive and ripped open the seal while Ranulf made his way down the corridor towards him. “What is it, my liege?”

            “It’s William-“ Fallon muttered, his eyes roaming the script, “He’s coming to Linden.”

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