Forbidden Warrior (Midsummer Knights)

Her face was shining, her eyes bright. “Well done,” she called out as he drew near. “And did you notice,” she added in a proud little whisper, “I did not say a word?”

“You’ve outdone yourself.”

She pointed to the bow and got to her feet. “Would you show me how?”

“You’ve never used a bow?”

“My father would never allow such a thing.”

Their eyes met. “I do not like your father.”

She gave a soft laugh and reached for the bow.

He stood behind her and showed her how to lift it, maneuver it, how to set and release the arrow, then stood back and watched her let a bolt fly.

It went about forty feet off of where she’d aimed, and she leapt back, shaking her hand in the air.

“That hurt,” she exclaimed, touching her fingertips to her mouth.

“Give me that.” He took her fingers and lifted them to his mouth. He kissed each one, then wrapped his other arm around the small of her back and pulled her trippingly close. Bending his head, he kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around him and held on, even when he lifted his head a bare inch.

“You never should have let me touch you—”

This time it was she who shook her head, and put her fingertips over his mouth. “I was sure,” she said emphatically. “As I will be tonight. All we have is tonight.”

“That is all we will need.”

The lie was all he had to offer.

He carried her back to the camp, to feed her, and tease her, and make her howl, and somehow keep her from kicking open any more doorways to his heart.

He could not stand the light.

Chapter 28

He pulled water from the river, dug another fire pit and gathered wood, then pulled things from his pack, throwing them down beside the pit, before dropping to one knee beside it.

“Salt,” she exclaimed, picking up one of the little packages. “You truly do carry your home in those packs of yours.”

He paused. “What?”

The closeness of his attention made her look away and fuss with her skirt. “I thought it seemed as though you carry your home on your back.”

He smacked his flint against the blade of his knife. “I told you, I have no home.”

“Yes, you do. You have your enchanted forest. Just because you are not there does not mean it is not your home.”

A spark ignited the tiny dead leaves in the pit.

He didn’t look up. Clearly, he did not like to speak of home. But then, neither did she. Another way they were aligned.

But as she had only this one night, she wanted to know everything she could about this hard, confusing, beautiful man. Everything about his body, and his heart.

“Why did you leave?” she asked softly.

“War.”