The Longing by Tamara Leigh

Author:Tamara Leigh [Tamara Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance, Knights, Love Story, Medieval England, Medieval Romance, Romance, Warrior
Goodreads: 20759285
Publisher: Tamara Leigh
Published: 2014-04-20T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Susanna held tight to Everard where he had drawn her onto his thighs. It was happening again, something breaking inside her just as when Judas had feigned a breathing attack that had made her realize how corrupted his young heart was by the need to survive. And, as then, her sobs were part relief, part grief. Relief that, at last, her truth was told and believed. Grief that, for all the guilt-induced comfort offered her, it would not change the course of her life.

Still, she wanted to remain in this moment, the better to remember in years to come of how it felt to have strong arms around her that were only for the holding, not the taking—no favor for a favor. Merely comfort.

Remember, she told herself as she pressed her face to the firm, muscular chest and breathed in Everard with each gasp that shook her. Remember.

He let her cry, and it was not until she was softly hiccoughing against his tear-dampened tunic that she became aware of his hand moving over her shoulder and upper back, occasionally pausing to gently knead her tense muscles. No man had ever touched her this way. Likely, no man ever would again.

Remember, Susanna. It will make the cold nights warmer.

She tilted her face up.

Everard’s own face was raised where he had settled his head back against the battlement, and though she could not see his eyes, she guessed he watched the thickening clouds chase one another across the moon and sky.

As she stared up at him, trying to think of what to say, she realized she did not want to say anything lest it mean the end of his embrace.

But then he lowered his chin, and his eyes found hers. He smiled, though it was a sorrowful turn of the lips. “Better?”

She was—as much as was possible. “Aye.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something further, closed it.

“What is it?” she asked.

A long moment passed, then he said, “I have been thinking of Sir Morris—the things I would like to do to him of which, I am sure, God would not approve.”

In the anger she had spilled all around him, she had said too much, but did he believe more had happened between her and the knight than actually had? “I thank you for wishing to defend me, but you should know that he only tried to ravish me. He did not—”

“Only!” His hand stilled upon her shoulder, gripped it as if he might shake her. “Only, Susanna? Truly, have you such little regard for yourself?”

The tension his touch had eased began to return. “I did give my brother’s men cause to think—”

“Mayhap think, but not act. There is no excuse for that knave’s behavior.” Though the intensity of his gaze could not be seen, she felt it. “When a woman says ‘nay,’ it is ‘nay.’ There is no ‘aye’ in it.”

The tears with which she had thought she was done once more threatened her composure. However, she tamped down her alarm with the reminder it would be no great loss considering how little composure she had left.

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