Strangclyf Secret by McCall Mary

Author:McCall, Mary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: love, knight, medieval, castle, trust, medieval historial romance
Publisher: Champagne Books

Twelve

His wife thrived on chaos.

Bernon secured his scabbard at his side, walked over to the bedside, and stared down at his slumbering wife. An arrogant grin raised one corner of his mouth as he noticed her hugging his pillow. When they had gotten into bed, Barwolf had worried she’d disturb his rest. She hovered so near the edge he couldn’t sleep for fear she would teeter off. He finally hauled her against his side just so he could get some sleep. Then he awoke in the middle of the night to find his wife sprawled across his chest—all cuddled up with a smile on her face.

He had never slept the night through with a woman and a strange desire grew within him to spend time with his wife apart from the carnal aspects of marriage. Something about her lightened his mood, and he found an unfamiliar sense of completeness with her snuggled on top of him.

The realization that he trusted her still stunned him and left him feeling vulnerable. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. How had she maneuvered past barriers he had spent a lifetime erecting? His vulnerability strengthened his resolve. She belonged to him, and he would care for her and protect her, but he would guard his heart.

A sigh whistled from her mouth and she shifted, pulling the covers over her head and hugging the pillow tighter. His lips quirked. She had probably never had such a blissful slumber in her young life. He knew he hadn’t. Awaking with her warm ripe body plastered to his had sent erotic surges through him and set his desires toward a little morning lovemaking. He would have taken her if she hadn’t cried out in her sleep as he’d slipped his fingers between her legs. He would have to discuss the definition of “a mite sore” with her later. Her feminine flesh was so swollen and red that ‘twould probably be at least a week before he could take her again. ‘Twould be a miracle if she could even walk today.

She was right about one thing. She was definitely slow to wake. ‘Twas probably because her little body exhausted itself by working late into the night hours, then she tried to get up without sufficient rest. From what he surmised, her schedule was more rigorous than that of his warriors in training. Not only were some of her duties totally reprehensible, but she had assumed more by taking in bastard orphans.

He would make her get the rest she needed—starting now. For the next week, his wife would enjoy a complete sabbatical from work. She would lose her calluses, and she would have a new wardrobe as befit the lady of so great a holding. Everyone would treat her with the dignity and respect she deserved, and damn it all, she would learn her value.

A shout outside the window distracted his thoughts. He needed to head out and assess the mood of the Saxons. They had been cooperative yesterday, because

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