Anne O'Brien – Chosen for the Marriage Bed (страница 13)

How trusting John de Lacy was in his innocence, believing that the authority was fast in his own fist. How willing he was to follow advice when power was dangled before him, a juicy plum to fall from the tree into his waiting hand.

Except, Capel rubbed his hands together, de Lacy would not be the one to catch the falling fruit.

Richard offered his hand to his bride. Elizabeth placed hers there, lightly. He gave a little nod, either of acceptance or encouragement, his fingers closing warm and firm before they turned together for him to lead her up the final steps to the waiting priest. And there was something that needed to be said.

‘Forgive me my harsh words of yesterday.’

‘I do.’ Her gaze was solemn. ‘I ask pardon for my lack of grace.’

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