Breath of Heaven by Cindy Holby Page A

was the reason for the summons. He did not even know her name. “What is your daughter called?” Rhys asked.
    “Eliane,” Edward replied. “You are not foresworn?” he asked again.
    Eliane…the sound of it was lyrical. “No.” His lips lifted into a grin. “I even have the king’s blessing to choose a wife where I will, as long as I make my choice by the first day of February.” This would certainly resolve his earlier dilemma.
    “Why must you marry by then? Was there some problem?” Edward asked. He sat against his pillows. They were everywhere, behind his back, beneath his arms and knees, all in place to give his weakened body the support it needed. The room was dark, even though the day shone bright beyond the heavy curtains that covered the windows. There were curtains about the bed too. Edward was well protected from the cold and the light.
    Rhys wanted nothing more than to fling back the curtains and allow the sunshine to come in and warm the room and the body that lay dying within the huge bed. Instead he raised his hand in assurance. “The problem was mine—too many brides to choose from. This makes my path easier.”
    “Be honest with me, sir,” Edward said. “Is your heart given where your bond may take hold?”
    Rhys smiled ruefully as he ran his hand through his still damp hair. “No one has ever held my heart. Not even my mother,” he added. “There are no bonds to tie me other than that which I owe you.”
    Edward sank back into his pillows and sighed in relief. “Then let it be done.” He raised a finger and the priest came forth. “The banns are ready?” Edward asked.
    “They require only the signatures,” Father Timothy replied. He held a roll of parchment in his hand. “I will post them today. Three days hence the marriage may take place.”
    By the looks of Edward, Rhys was not sure he would last three days. He’d been shocked when he first came into the lord’s chambers. The wasted invalid who lay in the bed was not the robust man he recalled from his youth. Yet the eyes were the same, vividly blue and piercing, along with the sharp nose and pronounced brow. The hair, once red, was now shockingly white and the skin, once bronzed from the sun, seemed pasty and as fragile as the parchment Father Timothy now placed before Edward.
    Edward’s hand trembled, his manservant Cedric grasped it within his own and guided the quill to the place where Edward must sign. Rhys heard the scratch of the nib and then three pairs of eyes looked up at him expectantly. He nodded and Father Timothy carried the parchment to a table, where he handed Rhys the quill.
    Rhys looked at the words carefully written upon the page. Once he placed his name below Lord Edward’s,he was pledging to care for Edward’s daughter, her lands, and all that lay within the borders of Aubregate. All that was his would become hers and all that was hers would become his. His name, his sword, and his honor would be given into her keeping and he had yet to look upon her face.
    He blinked as another face came to mind. A face with emerald green eyes, a proud chin, a straight nose, and delicately arched brows. All framed with hair the color of flames and strangely pointed ears. An enchantment. Nothing more. Nothing there to keep him from his duty except a strange desire to run. Something he would not do. He could not do. His honor would not allow it.
    He dipped the quill into the ink, yet he could not bring his hand to the parchment. What of the rumors? The deformity? What if Edward’s daughter was so hideous that she could not show her face? Mathias moved to his side, his young face full of questions at the sudden turn both their lives had taken.
    Rhys gave him a reassuring smile, even though he had questions himself. The nib touched the parchment and he formed the letters of his name. Rhys Christian Roger de Remy, Lord of Myrddin.
    It mattered not about the daughter who was to be his wife. All that mattered was that he owed