The Warrior Knight and the Widow by Ella Matthews

Author:Ella Matthews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-01-03T12:44:39+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Braedan stared at the roof of their shelter. Light was coming through the fabric, which suggested morning had broken. Next to him Ellena slept soundly, her soft lips slightly parted.

He had barely slept at all.

He should get up and move away from the temptation she provided, but he couldn’t. Although they weren’t touching, he could feel the welcoming warmth of her body seeping across the small space between them. He wanted to tug her closer, so that she was half lying on him again. He wanted to feel the soft skin of her leg as he ran his hands along it, and this time he didn’t want to stop when he reached her thigh.

In a day or two, unless any more disasters befell them, they would be back at Ogmore Castle and she would find out that the Earl of Borwyn was leading the race to become her next husband. She would also know that her father intended Braedan to take over the running of Castle Swein. She would hate him.

He swallowed. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if her large blue eyes, the only eyes that had ever seen him as more than The Beast, looked at him full of loathing.

She murmured something in her sleep and flung her arm around his waist. Awake, she’d probably prefer not to touch him. She’d certainly removed herself from him last night. But he couldn’t bring himself to remove her touch. It felt so right to lie with her arms around him.

Even though he’d tried to tell her about his oath to Ogmore last night, she’d seemed to take his words as a rejection. If only she knew the truth. He wanted her more than he had any other woman. He’d faced death many times on the battlefield—so much so that he’d stopped fearing it—but he was afraid of the strength of his feelings for her.

He shifted and the movement woke her up. She snatched her arm back and pulled herself into a sitting position. Her expressive eyes homed in on the wound on his arm and a throbbing burning sensation flooded the forefront of his mind.

‘How is your arm this morning?’ she asked, her voice soft with sleep.

‘It’s fine,’ he said, and was rewarded with a frown.

‘It can’t be fine. There was an arrow sticking out of it yesterday.’

He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He’d not had someone care about his wounds for as long as he could remember.

‘It hurts a bit,’ he conceded, and this time he was rewarded with a faint smile.

He was considering ramping up his response to claim that he was in agony, in order to see if that got him an even better reaction, but she beat him to it.

‘You’ve had worse, though, of course?’ She rolled her eyes and flung back the blankets. ‘We’d best get going. We’re so close now I can almost smell the welcoming banquet my father is bound to insist upon.’

He almost believed she was really as cheerful about returning to her father’s castle as she was making out.

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