The Warrior by Claire Delacroix

Author:Claire Delacroix
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Publisher: 0
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Aileen watched her husband, her inclinations at war within her. She was filled with Adaira's conviction, the old words echoing in her ears. She and the Hawk were destined to be together and she wondered how best to persuade him of what she knew to be true.

She was much reassured by his pledges. A fighting man would live and die by his pledge, and she had believed his intent to be true. She liked that he put the choice into her hands. It was time enough that she accepted the man she was coming to know instead of simply believing his foul repute.

It was time she earned his trust.

She swallowed and looked down, stroking the pelt with her fingertips. “I trained with a bow from an early age. I suspect my father only indulged me at first, for I was persistent, but I soon showed skill with it. My mother endorsed my choice and persuaded my father to train me further.” She met his regard. “I found more satisfaction in an arrow finding its mark than a spindle fat with fine thread.”

He smiled that seductive half-smile. “This I understand well enough.”

“And then, just over a year ago, my mother died.” Aileen frowned, than hastened on. “And my father returned from the king's court with Blanche upon his arm. She did not want another woman's daughter in her abode, especially as we are nigh of an age. I suppose I can understand that she did not like my father's affection for me.”

“That is the mark of a selfish soul, lady mine,” the Hawk scoffed. “Affection is to be shared, for it replenishes itself in greater measure once spent.”

They shared a smile across the chamber that heated Aileen's flesh.

The Hawk arched a brow. “I shall guess that she named your skill as the reason why you were not wedded, and insisted that your father compel you to cease.”

Aileen sobered, and felt her anger anew. “She burned my bow.” She met the Hawk's gaze. “She seized it and burned it before the company as she mocked me. It had been a gift from my mother's kin, carved to my hand. It was mine and mine alone and she had no right to destroy it.”

The Hawk's eyes gleamed. “And your father? Surely he demanded at least an apology from her?”

Aileen blinked and looked away, bitterness rising within her. “He told me that Blanche had named the matter aright and that I would forgot my foolery in time.”

“Then he is the fool,” the Hawk said sharply, his anger warming Aileen's heart.

“I thank you for that,” she said. Their gazes locked and held, and Aileen's mouth went dry with her desire for his touch.

Perhaps she could explain the force of his kisses to him in this moment when they seemed of one accord.

“Do you have a memory palace?” she asked.

The Hawk frowned and shook his head.

“It is not a possession as such, but a trick with one's thoughts.” Aileen smiled, stroking a pelt as she spoke. “My father taught me to build a memory palace to better recall whatsoever one must.

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