Read Online Enduringly Yours by Olivia Stocum - Free Book Online Page B

handkerchief away. “Happy about this?” She looked at the field
    “It may backfire on me. John is too much competition. He will be champion.”
    John snorted and took his mug back to the cask to refill it.
    “You beat me every time,” Peter called.
    “That is only because he knows you so well,” Zipporah added.
    John glanced from between them. “This is my exit.” He downed his ale and passed her back the mug.
    “Best of luck, Johnny,” she said.
    “I do not need it, but thank you just the same.” He grinned and pulled his helm over his head.
    She turned back to Peter.
    “Fill that with something?” he said, pointing to the cup in her hand.
    “Of course.” She filled it from the spigot and passed it to him.
    “Have you heard the rumor on the field this morning?” He took a drink.
    “I have not.”
    “The prize for the day is a kiss from you.”
    “And who, pray tell, started this rumor?”
    He shrugged. “The men were not sufficiently motivated. It is a private competition, after all.”
    She narrowed her eyes.
    “I know. I never learn.”
    “Peter.”
    “Is it too much of a request?”
    Her gaze honed in on his familiar lips.
    “I am sure John will be victor,” he said, sounding more than a little put out. “You will have nothing to fear from him. You can go ahead and satisfy the men by kissing him for them. I promise not to draw my sword on John. His firsthand account may be as close as I will get to you, anyway.”
    Do not do this to me, Peter. She was ready to end their conversation. “We should be careful not to talk to each other too much.”
    Her gaze found Gilburn on the field. His page was adjusting his armor.
    “What happened?” Peter asked. He must have sensed her unease. 
    “I ran into Sir Gilburn in the corridor this morning. I thought he would not allow me to see my father.”
    “What did he say?”
    “That he believes it disturbs me too much.”
    “He knows you not at all.”
    “His admiration seems genuine.”
    “Which only makes him all the more dangerous.”
    “Too bad I do not have a docile sister for him.”
    Peter lifted his brows. “And subject her to him?”
    “He may be kind to a submissive wife.”
    “He is not getting to you, is he?”
    “Nay.” She crossed her arms over her ribcage. “But you are getting on my nerves already.”
    “Do not play matchmaker, please. We have enough trouble as it is.”
    “A more suitable woman would take his focus off me. That is all I am saying.”
    He shook his head.
    Why did it have to be so hard between them? “Fine. Forget it.”
    Peter caught her arm. “Be careful around him. He is not without his skills when it comes to manipulating women.”
    “I am capable of discerning that much.” She pulled away.
    “I did not say that you were not. I said, be careful .” He looked at her as if he had no idea what was wrong.
    But there was plenty wrong.
    Lack of food and sleep for one thing, mostly thanks to him. Confusion, also thanks to him. Guilt. Fear. Insecurity.
    Him. Him. Him.
    Zipporah shifted closer, her chin lifting in pent-up frustration. “I may be your whore, Peter, but I will never be his.”
    He jerked back. Suddenly, he was breathing as if his armor was too tight. His complexion paled. “You are not.”
    “Aren’t I?”
    “The same could be said of me.”
    “What are you talking about? For a man, the rules are completely different.”
    He leaned in. He was nose to nose with her. “You are no more my whore than I am yours. And I have lived with the cost of that ever since.”
    Cost? Who was he to speak of cost? “What cost?”
    It took him a moment. She thought he was about to explain, then he backed off. “Never mind.”
    Peter threw his mug. It hit the ale barrel, wood splinters and ale showering the ground. He pulled on his helmet and walked away.
    Zipporah stood frozen, her heart hammering from anger and surprise. She knew Peter to be an impulsive man, but he was not in the habit of losing his