Read Online Return of the Rogue by Donna Fletcher - Free Book Online Page B

wife.”
    “It is my duty,” she said, and looked out across the barren moors that surrounded the keep.
    “Vast emptiness,” he said, his own glance following hers.
    “Vast peacefulness,” she corrected. “There is nothing there to obscure its beauty or hide from you. It leaves itself open, vulnerable, and invites you to do the same.”
    “It is not good to be vulnerable,” he snapped.
    “We are all vulnerable one way or another.”
    “Only if we allow it,” he said. “You have a choice to be strong or weak.”
    “Strength comes in different ways,” Honora argued gently, for she felt as if she defended herself. She knew he thought her meek, unable and perhaps unwilling to defend herself, but she had managed to protect herself since she was young with the only weapon she had—her wits. And while it wasn’t as lethal as a sword, it had allowed her to survive.
    Cavan nodded slowly. “You’re right about that.”
    He turned silent and stared out over the land, and she wondered over his thoughts. He barely spoke with her. This outing had surprised her; even the few words he’d spoken to her were unexpected. Before, it seemed he had meant to ignore her and keep his distance, and recalling as much, she told herself that his behavior now must reflect merely gratitude, nothing more.
    A strong chilled wind whipped around them and she shivered, hugging the wool cloak to her, while he stood unperturbed and in only his plaid, his shirt, and his sandals.
    “You are cold,” he said, and hugged her against him, snuggling her in the crook of his shoulder so she rested alongside the length of him.
    His heat instantly assaulted her, slipping beneath her blue blouse and brown skirt until it settled into her flesh, and she almost sighed with the pleasure of it. It ran along every inch and depth of her, setting her skin to tingle and spark and ignite a heat of her own.
    Thunder rumbled overhead, but she paid it no heed, simply settled her face to his chest and drank in the scent of him. She didn’t know what it was about the smell of him, earth and pine and male, that attracted her; she only knew that she relished his distinct aroma.
    She rubbed her cheek against his shirt and inhaled.
    Abruptly, she was jerked away from him and held at arm’s length while his dark eyes glared accusingly at her. She had no idea what she might have done to upset him, but he was clearly upset. His jaw jutted out, his lips locked tight, and his dark eyes were unforgiving.
    “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, hoping to correct whatever mistake she had made.
    “For what?” he asked in a growl-like rumble that frightened her.
    She stuttered, not knowing how to answer, for she could make no sense of his sudden anger.
    Her hesitation seemed to further agitate him. “Can you not speak up for yourself?”
    Honora closed her eyes for a moment, envisioned the kindness she had seen in his eyes and held the vision firm, for she could speak easily to that man. After a moment she opened them again. “I did not know I needed to defend myself. I had simply felt safe in your arms.”
    His expression softened for such a brief moment that Honora wondered if it was her imagination.
    Cavan shoved her away from him. “Don’t!”
    She took another step back and stared at him, bewildered.
    He spewed a frustrated grunt and ran anxious fingers through his hair. “Don’t feel safe with me,” he explained.
    She shook her head. “But you are my husband.”
    He lunged at her and she hurriedly backed away, though not quick enough, for he grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her to him. “I warned you once many years ago to watch where you stepped, and still you have not learned.”
    Honora turned her head and saw that she would have fallen off the battlement to certain death had he not saved her, though in her defense, she whispered, “You charged at me.”
    “There is no excuse for not watching where you step.”
    He was right. She had foolishly thought