His eyes shot wide with anger and his fingers tightened around her arm. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Eleanor heard Lord Tarass tell his warrior to send for the Slayer. She knew the name due to an incident at the abbey where she had been a postulant. She believes that the Slayer is one of the devil’s demons.”

“Come to claim the souls of the damned,” Slatter said.

His words sent a chill running through Willow. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Aye, his name is whispered in places where good men don’t frequent, but send men to hire heartless men, or soulless men as some believe the Slayer to be.”

“He must be soulless from what Eleanor said he did to the man at the abbey, which is why we must prove your innocence before he arrives.”

“You don’t doubt, not even a little, my innocence?” he asked, releasing her arm to slip his hand to rest at her back, nudging her closer to him.

“Not a trickle or hint of a doubt,” she said, easing into the comfort of his arms.

“Be careful, wife, with the way things are going, you may be stuck with me for the rest of your days,” Slatter warned with the hint of a smile.

“I could think of a worse fate.”

“And what would that be?”

“Never having met you at all,” she said softly.

Words failed him, though instinct didn’t. He kissed her, a gentle kiss, as tender and heartfelt as her words. But the ache for his wife that seemed to forever linger in his loins flared, demanding more. His kiss paid heed to the passion that flamed in him and demanded more as well. He might have been able to harness it and keep it at bay if his wife didn’t respond with an eager passion of her own.

His hands ran down along her back to cup her backside and squeeze it tight, pushing her up against his manhood that was growing hard with impatience.

He tore his mouth away from hers. “Once I make love to you, wife, our fate is sealed. Is that what you want?”

“Sensible or not, it is what my heart tells me… I love you,” she said a soft smile surfacing as she brought her lips to his.

A rap at the door sounded before a voice called out, “Sara is awake and asking for her grandson.”

Slatter felt pulled between the two women who meant so much to him. How did he brush aside what his wife had just told him and go to his grandmother and how did he not go to his grandmother who had to be frightened upon waking in a strange place?

Willow grabbed his hand. “Come, we must see to Seanmhair. Afterwards you can tell me how much you love me.”

Slatter shook his head and snagged his wife around the waist with one arm to lift her off her feet and kiss her quick.

“Damn it, wife,” he snarled playfully, “You don’t tell me to tell you how much I love you. I say it of my own free will.”

Willow chuckled, feeling good she had admitted what was in her heart. She grabbed his face in her hands and brought her lips near his, though didn’t kiss him. Instead she whispered, “Then show me of your own free will how much you love me.”

That brought a rumbling growl from him before he teasingly nipped at her lips. “That’s a challenge I can’t refuse.”

He placed her on her feet, took her hand, and wondered with things appearing so bad how he felt such joy.

His wife.

She had not only brought joy to him, she brought something much more… hope. Something he hadn’t felt in years.

Sara smiled as soon as she saw her grandson, her one arm reaching out to him with some difficulty.

Slatter hurried to her side, taking her frail hand, and sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her pale cheek. “You are safe here, Seanmhair. You have nothing to fear.”

She shook her head and her smile quickly dissolved.

“Aye, you are safe,” Slatter assured her, wanting to chase the fear he saw rush up in her eyes that had aged through the years, lines framing them and wisdom buried deep in them.

Sara tried to speak but coughed instead and Willow quickly grabbed a goblet, off the small table, filled with a chamomile brew, to hand to her husband.

Slatter slipped his hand beneath his grandmother’s head and held the goblet to her lips to drink. He was surprised and pleased with how much she drank. Before he placed her head back on the pillow, Willow braced another pillow beneath Sara’s head.

The old woman smiled her thanks.

Slatter took his wife’s hand. “This is my wife, Willow, Seanmhair. She is a healer and tends you well.”

“Beautiful,” Sara said with a smile stronger than either Slatter or Willow expected.

Tags: Donna Fletcher Mcardle Sisters of Courage Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net