The Stolen Bride
'Twas Midsummer Night–when magic held sway…and Sofia Ahlgren dreamed of a deliverer to safeguard her from a blackhearted lord. Then, through the bonfires appeared Kayne the Unknown, who vowed to protect her, even at the cost of his very soul…!Though the dark raged within him, Mistress Sofia was his light. She alone made Kayne feel something of grace and innocence, blurring memories of war and bloodshed that haunted the depths of his being. But the bliss found under a summer moon could ne'er last forever, for keeping his beloved safe would mean a return to the heart of darkness that lay within him.
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“You are all unclothed, Kayne…you have not been out in this weather?”
“Aye,” he murmured.
“But why?”
“To find a measure of peace.”
Sorrow knifed through her, far more painful than what her body had just experienced. “Oh, Kayne,” she murmured sadly, stroking strands of wet hair from his face. “’Tis all my fault. I am so deeply ashamed and sorry.”
He shook his head. “You are not the one to blame, Sofia. It is my own sickness that makes me ill within. You are my only refuge from the misery of it. I need you, Sofia.” Whispering the words this time, he said again, “I need you. But if you tell me to leave, I will go at once. Indeed, I should go. I have no right to ask anything of you.”
Sofia swallowed heavily. “I want you to stay, Kayne. But I am afraid…!”
The Stolen Bride
Harlequin Historical #535
#536 SILK AND STEEL
Theresa Michaels
#537 THE LAW AND MISS HARDISSON
Lynna Banning
#538 MONTANA MAN
Jillian Hart
Available from Harlequin Historicals and SUSAN SPENCER PAUL
*The Bride’s Portion (as Susan Paul) #266
*The Heiress Bride (as Susan Paul) #301
*The Bride Thief #373
Beguiled #408
*The Captive Bride #471
*The Stolen Bride #535
To my beautiful daughter, Carolyn,
who came up with the title for this book, and who fills each day of my life with joy.
Contents
Chapter One
“Nay, Father, I tell you I will have none of him. And I’ll not see him. Sir Griel must suffer the disappointment, I fear.”
With this, Sofia returned her attention to the needlework in her lap. She was perfectly calm.
Her father, however, stood in his place near the door, sweating profusely and wringing his hands.
“Sofia, you must come and speak with him,” Sir Malcolm pleaded. “You know what it means to overset Sir Griel. I beg you, daughter, only speak to him, show him a measure of sweetness, such as you alone can do. That will be enough to sate him for a time.”
Sofia was unmoved by this.
“Sir Griel is a violent, evil, untoward man, Father, and I’ve no wish to sate him in any way. What I desire is that he leave us in peace, for I vow I shall never wed him.” The thought made her visibly shudder. “Nothing could induce me to it.”
“God’s mercy,” her father said, shaking his head. “He’s brought twelve men. Twelve, Sofia, and all fully armed. They’re standing with him now in the great room below, awaiting your arrival. If you don’t go to him, he’ll wreak havoc. I know he will.”
“He only means to intimidate you, Father,” she said soothingly. “If you refuse to be thus cowed, he’ll leave you be, in time.”
“Nay, he’ll not leave at all, until you’ve come to speak to him,” her father insisted. “He has said so, and I’ve no desire to put such a challenge to the test.”
Sofia sighed loudly.
“Sofia, please,” Sir Malcolm begged.
She set her needlework aside and stood.
“Very well.”
“There,” he said with relief. “That’s a good daughter you are, Sofia. A very good daughter. Make certain to tell Sir Griel that—”
“I shall bid him to the devil, my lord,” she stated, striding out of the room, “as I do every time I see him.”
Sir Griel Wallace was a dark, ominous man, short but muscular, with hair, beard and eyes as black as coal. He was standing near the large hearth in the great room as Sofia descended the stairs, and turned to watch with open appreciation as she approached. Just as her father had said, a dozen of Sir Griel’s fighting men were with him, standing on either side of the room, looking very much as if they had prepared for a battle.
Sofia could scarce blame her father for being so distressed at the sight of them. Sir Griel had clearly brought them with the intent of intimidating the entire household—herself included. The last time he’d come to visit her, she’d treated him to a rigidly polite manner of behavior which forced a certain formality from him in turn, but she’d found it impossible not to scoff at his few crude attempts at love-making. His pride had not withstood such a rebuff, no matter how intelligently or elegantly given, and he’d left Ahlgren Manor red with anger.
With this visit, he clearly meant to make himself better understood, if not through sweet speeches, then through a show of force.
As Sofia moved across the room, Sir Griel gave a signal, causing all his men to straighten to attention. Sofia lifted her chin and ignored them.
“Mistress Sofia,” Sir Griel said. “Your beauty, as always, is a welcome sight. I pray I have not come at an unseasonable time?”
He held a hairy, burly hand out, palm open, in what was obviously meant to be a grand gesture. Sofia set her teeth and strove to appear gracious as she laid her own in it. He was abnormally hairy, and was covered down to his fingertips with thick black hair which made him look far more like a heavily furred animal than a man. The idea of having to receive such a man’s intimate caresses made Sofia feel exceedingly ill. Just touching him now caused her stomach to churn nauseatingly.
