Legendary Warrior (Warrior 1)

“You are a good man and help many.”

“For a price,” he reminded her. The feel of her warm, soft skin against his was more comforting than he cared to acknowledge—or was it the thought that she cared enough to offer comfort? He had known such caring once and had desperately missed it when it had been taken from him.

She moved her hand off his, and though she remained close he felt an empty ache fill his heart.

“And what price have you paid?” she asked.

He stared at her strangely.

“You have suffered, have you not?”

His anguish was his own, and he never spoke of it to anyone. Yet she knew. She had captured it in his eyes, and he could see it clearly in his portrait. It was as if she could look into his soul.

Someone dear to his heart had borne a heavy burden for him, and he would not see her do the same. He took hold of her arms, his fingers firm in her flesh. “You will not suffer for me. If captured you will give whatever information is asked of you.”

“Why? So those who impose the torture can torture me more? If I were to do as you say, your enemy would not believe I tell him all. I would be tortured regardless of what information I willingly or unwillingly gave.”

He shook his head, then rested his forehead on hers. “What am I to do with you? You are much too intelligent for your own good.”

Her answer came easily. “You are to trust me as I trust you, for I would not betray you, as I know you would not betray me.”

“You are so sure?” Magnus whispered.

“Aye, I have come to know you these many winter weeks we have shared mapping the keep, though I honestly admit it is you, Magnus, I have come to know. The Legend remains a mystery to me. I have had but a brief glance of him on occasion, and I know not of him what I know of you, and I wonder if he allows anyone to know him.”

He softened his hold on her. “It is best the Legend remains a mystery.”

“Why? Does he not feel lonely at times?”

“The Legend was born out of necessity and he does what he must.”

She moved away from him, his hands falling off her, but just before she moved out of his reach Magnus grabbed hold of her hand.

“Do you fear the Legend?”

Her nod was gentle as she approached him. “At times.”

“He would never hurt you.”

“Yet he has hurt others.” Her voice trembled in a whisper.

“When necessary.” He stood and drew her to him. “Do not fear me.”

“I do not fear you, Magnus, but the Legend?” She shivered. “He puts the fear of the devil in men and women alike, and the cold dark metal of his helmet does not help, for it makes him appear unapproachable, impenetrable and emotionless.”

“He is a warrior.”

“He is a man,” she reminded.

“Aye, that he is,” Magnus agreed and slowly brought his lips down on hers to capture a much wanted kiss. He savored the taste of her and while he wanted, very much wanted, to feel her against him, he kept a safe distance. He did not trust himself, and she had just mentioned how she trusted him. He would not betray that trust. When they made love—and he was certain they would—it would be her choice.

He did, however, allow his hand to roam down her back, along her slim waist and over her hips, narrow but with a curve of definition that appealed to his male senses and caused him to swell with desire.

When finally their lips parted, she sighed and rubbed her cheek to his. “I am confused.”

“Why?” The simple act of her placing her cheek to his soared his passion, but he kept tight rein on it. How could such a simple and innocent gesture bring him so much pleasure? He had shared the gesture time and time again with many women, but never had he felt the rush of warmth and the hasty beating of his heart that he did when Reena so casually put her cheek to his.

“I thought you perfect for Brigid, then you began to—” She stared up at him, almost reluctant to admit her thought.

“What did I do, Reena?” he encouraged softly.

Her hesitation was brief. “You touched me and then kissed me and—”

“Made you feel.” He finished what she could not.

She nodded, then shook her head. “I do not even know what I feel.”

He took her chin in his hand and held it firm so that she would have to look at him. “Let yourself feel. Do not fight it.”

“I cannot fight it. It is there more often than not.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “I am glad to hear that.”

“Why?” Her look remained confused.