Free The Warrior's Wife by Denise Domning

Attacking the man would not only result in his banishment from the wedding, it would likely encourage Kate’s misguided affection for the steward. That was a sour lesson from Rafe’s own experience with women. Assault a man for whom a woman harbored even the smallest attraction and, for some godforsaken reason, you often drove the woman right into the other man’s arms.
    His gaze shifted back to Kate at the other end of the glade. Her face pinched in what seemed refusal then she sat down on her father’s blanket with him. Rafe sighed in relief, pride’s warmth filling him.
    Shame on him for doubting his sweet innocent Kate. His had been the first and only touch to stir her from her upright behavior. There’d be no other for her; she just hadn’t yet recognized that fact.
    A smile tugged at his mouth. His Kate was both passionate and virtuous, just the sort of woman a man like himself craved as his wife. Nay, she was the woman he would make his wife.
    So certain was he of her future loyalty that he started when Kate sprang suddenly to her feet. What seemed almost pain twisted her face. Rafe’s pride dissolved into worry. It wasn’t pain he saw. She looked like a woman who couldn’t stop herself. Even as Rafe willed her not to, she offered her father a nervous bob and started toward the woodland’s edge, following exactly in de Dapifer’s wake.
    Rafe’s need to save her from her misguided emotions ate up all his common sense. He leapt to his feet. What she couldn’t do for herself he would do for her.
    * * *
     
    Kate’s heart thudded in her chest, its pounding so loud that she wanted to cover her ears. Her breath caught in her throat. Each step was agony, so badly did her knees tremble.
    If only Ami were here. A single glance at the young widow, to remind Kate of how easily she’d hoodwinked her sire the previous night, would have gone far to bolster her courage. Unfortunately, Ami was yet at Haydon, being one of the women chosen to wait upon the newlyweds today.
    A bare three yards from where Warin had stepped into the forest’s dappled shade, Kate’s feet froze to the sod. Try as she might she couldn’t move another inch. Her vision blurred at the edges. From deep in her soul, Adele’s remembered voice screamed that she must stop. Guilt made mincemeat of Kate’s will. Mary save her, it didn’t matter how much she wanted to spend time with Warin, she couldn’t do this.
    She turned back to face the picnickers. Across the way Lord Haydon had joined her sire at their blanket. Her father’s tangled beard wasn’t thick enough to hide the smile he offered their host. A moment later and her sire threw back his head to laugh. Even from this distance Kate could hear his heartfelt amusement.
    Resentment shot through her. There he was, once again giving another the consideration he denied his own daughter. Her eyes narrowed. Warin was waiting. She whirled.
    And came face to face with Rafe Godsol.
    With a startled cry Kate took a backward step. Rafe followed, nearly hovering over her. Like most of the men today, her sire’s enemy wore a sleeveless leather vest over a dark green tunic that reached to his knees. Soft leather boots, their tops disappearing beneath the hem of his tunic, were cross-gartered to his legs. He’d removed his hat; his curling black hair gleamed in the sun. Resolution marked every line of his fine face.
    From deep within Kate the remnants of last night’s pleasure stirred. Fear of what her sire would do to her if he saw her near a Godsol slaughtered her reaction. Kate shifted to move around him.
    “You have to stay away from me,” she told him. “We are enemies.”
    He shifted to block her path. “You and I aren’t enemies,” he replied, his reasonable tone belying the insanity of his statement. “It’s only our families who hate each other.”
    Kate shot a frantic glance over her shoulder at her sire. Much to her relief, she saw her father yet had his back to her while he spoke