My Enemy, My Love_A Medieval Love Story by Julia Byrne

Author:Julia Byrne [Byrne, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2018-11-02T18:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Isabel woke slowly, reluctant to abandon the warmth and safety of her snug nest of blankets. She had felt like this once before, she thought with sleepy vagueness. Secure and warm. Protected. Safe with FitzAlan.

FitzAlan!

Memory returned in a flash. She remembered everything. Everything. Oh, not the details of the dream, but that didn’t matter. The nightmare had once been real, and the specters visiting her in sleep were always the same.

Nay, the picture tormenting her was of herself waking in FitzAlan’s arms and staying there. Worse, she had fallen asleep again, cradled to the warmth of his body, after asking him why he hadn’t rescued her.

Isabel almost groaned aloud. How was she ever going to face him? What questions would he have this time?

She lay very still and tried to think logically. It was quiet in the solar. Dare she hope that he had already risen, giving her time to resume her protective shield?

Holding her breath, she slitted one eye open and saw the crude, bare wall of the inn solar only inches away. She glanced down to discover she was hugging the very edge of the bed. Which meant there was a lot of bed left to investigate before she knew if it was safe to turn over.

Listening carefully for any sound that might indicate FitzAlan’s presence, she stretched out a cautious foot, ready to withdraw it at once if she encountered so much as a hint of him.

Nothing. She was alone.

Her breath rushed out in a small burst of relief. She opened both eyes and rolled onto her back.

And her heart slammed to a stop.

FitzAlan was sitting on the stool by the bed, his back propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, long legs stretched out in front of him. His brilliant light eyes were fixed on her from under half-lowered lashes.

She wondered how long he’d been sitting there, intent and watchful; waiting. For a fleeting instant she felt as though she had woken in the lair of a dangerous wild animal. The wolf’s lair, she thought. And he had her trapped.

When she didn’t speak, he sat forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, his gaze never leaving her face. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. Somehow he made the softly growled question sound incredibly intimate.

Isabel swallowed, pondering her answer as if the fate of the kingdom rested on it. Could she pretend not to remember last night? People did forget dreams.

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

“Good. How do you feel today?”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously, before she could stop herself.

His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “You’ve endured a great deal, especially yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Her gaze shifted to his mouth. She watched in fascination as his smile deepened. Then realizing what she was doing, she wrenched her gaze back to his. “Aye, yesterday!” she exclaimed. “I thought we were going to be killed, and you enjoyed it.”

His smile vanished. “Action of some kind was long overdue,” he muttered cryptically.

A discreet tap on the door saved her from wondering what he meant by that.

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