A Knight's Persuasion by Catherine Kean

Author:Catherine Kean [Kean, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General
ISBN: 1605420964
Google: Zm8NWHZsOhcC
Amazon: B0097OZBX6
Publisher: Medallion Press, Inc.
Published: 2010-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

As soon as the door slammed behind Tye, Juliana whirled and dashed to Edouard’s side. He leaned back against the wall, sitting with his legs bent and his arms braced on his knees. Leaning his head back against the stone, he shut his eyes.

Tears still wet on her cheeks, she dropped down on her knees at his left side, took his face in both hands, and tilted it to her view.

He winced and his eyes flew open. “Ah—!”

“What?” Lifting her left fingers, she spied the purpling bruise on his jaw. “Oh. Sorry.” Cringing inside, she dropped her hands into her lap. As Edouard carefully flexed his jaw, she asked, “Are you all right?”

“Aye.”

“Do you hurt anywhere else?”

Edouard’s gaze slid away. He looked mutinous, angry, and she sensed him struggling with an inner torment. Most likely, he didn’t want to admit to his other injuries. He doubtless saw himself as a bold, brave warrior, and he’d endure, congratulating himself for suffering in silence.

New tears dampened her eyes while she studied the taut planes of his face. His expression, when he’d held that chain wrapped around Tye’s neck . . . Frightening. Her heart had squeezed so tightly within her rib cage, she couldn’t breathe, for in that instant, she knew he’d kill Tye if circumstances left him no alternative.

There had been a choice, though. Edouard had listened to her. Respected her plea. Spared Tye’s life, and for that, Edouard was all the more noble to her.

Tye’s kicking of Edouard? Unscrupulous. In a fight governed by chivalry, Tye would have been disqualified and sent off in dishonor. Yet ’twas clear he didn’t care about gallantry. He wanted to appear to have won the scuffle, by whatever means he deemed necessary. Another reason why Edouard’s actions were even more admirable.

Still looking at a point beyond her, Edouard swallowed; her attention fell to his Adam’s apple, moving beneath his tanned skin. How she ached to tell him how grateful she was that he hadn’t committed murder. How she wanted to voice the emotions churning inside her: admiration; relief; . . . and something wonderful she couldn’t quite name.

“Edouard,” she whispered, willing him to meet her gaze.

He closed his eyes again. He didn’t answer.

Juliana fought the dismay gnawing at her. He didn’t move, but he was withdrawing from her, taking refuge behind a mental barricade. She shifted on her knees and her breast brushed against his bent knee—an unplanned contact that she felt, with shocking intensity, in places she dared not name.

At her sharp inhalation, his eyes opened. His gaze, smoldering with emotion, settled on her mouth.

Did he want to kiss her, as she’d secretly dreamed? ’Twas shameful that she yearned for the intimacy.

“Edouard,” she murmured, “I—”

“You should not have confronted Tye.”

At last, Edouard spoke to her. Not, however, in the tender manner she’d hoped.

Tamping down a pang of disappointment, she said, “He looked about to kick you again.”

“I can defend myself,” Edouard gritted, each word edged with frustration.

So he suffered from wounded pride, as well as a battered body.

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