The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch by Shelly Thacker

Author:Shelly Thacker [Thacker, Shelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance, medieval, romance, royalty, suspense, adventure, medieval romance, sexy, romantic adventure, erotic romance
Publisher: Shelly Thacker
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Morning light slipped through the shutters, a thin line of brightness that slanted over the bed and awakened her. Ciara lifted her lashes slowly, reluctantly. Curled on her side beneath the blankets and the fur coverlet, she saw Royce … stretched out in front of the door, one arm crooked behind his head. Asleep.

She did not stir for a moment, allowing herself simply to gaze at him, to feel her heart beat a fast, unsteady rhythm, as it now seemed to do every time she glanced his way.

For the second night in a row, he had insisted she take the bed, despite her protest that he needed a comfortable rest more than she did; she had slept almost all day yesterday while he had stood watch.

But last night, when she had offered to sleep on blankets in front of the fire, he had refused to hear of it. And she realized he was not merely being gallant.

He had avoided coming anywhere near the bed the entire time they had been here.

Just as he had avoided the subject of what had happened between them that first night. He had not spoken of it. Had not touched her again, even in the most innocent way. ‘Twas as if he had built an invisible curtain wall around her.

And as much as that hurt, she had made no effort to close the distance he had created between them, for she knew this was how it must be. To touch him, kiss him, hold him in her arms would only make it more painful when they had to part. She had accepted that.

Or rather, she was trying to accept it.

Trying to be the dutiful, responsible princess she was supposed to be.

Her throat tightened as she gazed at him in the pale light of dawn. He lay on his side, his chiseled features relaxed in sleep, his sword not far from his hand. The warrior at rest. Except for a stray lock of dark hair tangled over his forehead that ruined the image, adding a hint of boyish charm, making him look so sweet. Almost innocent. A wave of tenderness stole over her.

Tenderness and this other, stronger feeling that she had been resisting for some time now. The one she did not want to explore or even acknowledge.

Because it was destined to end, and soon.

Silently, she slipped from the bed, wrapping herself in a sheet, and crept over to him. They had been doomed to part even before they met, she and this dark swordsman. Their destinies had been decided by forces much larger and more important than the happiness of one woman and one man.

And now they had but a few days left together, a mere handful of hours.

Unable to resist a single stolen touch, she brushed the hair from his forehead with her fingertips. And felt her heart turn over as the gold ring on her hand glimmered in the dawn light.

She had almost forgotten she was wearing the wedding band, she had grown so accustomed to its weight on her finger.

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