Free Loved By a Warrior by Donna Fletcher Page A

carefully removing the black stocking.
    â€œIt’s just that we seem to understand each other.”
    â€œIt was like that between Edward and me. We met when we were young, and we seemed to fit, as if we were two matching pieces who found their way back together. We understood each other and”—she laughed softly—“I fit in his arms perfectly, as if God intended me just for Edward.”
    Willow tenderly probed the swollen area. “I’ll fetch some snow, and we’ll pack it around your ankle. I don’t feel any broken bones, and I doubt you could have walked a distance if you had broken any.”
    Willow had Reeve move Tara away from the hearth before she packed the snow around the ankle so that the heat wouldn’t melt it.
    Reeve grabbed his extra plaid and wrapped it around Tara. “For the chill that surely will follow.” He leaned down to tuck it in snugly at her waist, and as he did, his cheek grazed hers. It was warm and flushed from sitting near the fire. His cheek had chilled, and it was like fire and ice coming together, it scorched and melted. He felt the sting all the way to his loins.
    He stood rather abruptly. “I better see to the horse.”
    â€œI’ll help you,” Jacob said, easing off the chair.
    â€œNo need.”
    â€œNothing for me to do here,” Jacob grumbled.
    â€œThen do join me,” Reeve said, realizing that the old man didn’t want to be left with the two women.
    I t had been a long time since Tara had sat in conversation with another woman, and she didn’t know what to say. She needn’t have worried, Willow felt the same, but didn’t let it stop her from talking.
    â€œIt has been far too long since I have had the opportunity to speak with another woman. Once this area was thriving with farms, and neighbors visited often. But when King Kenneth claimed the throne, he made heavy demands on the farmers, and it forced many to abandon their places.”
    â€œYou stayed?”
    â€œAs you’ve heard, grandda refuses to leave, and I can understand why. His family has farmed this land since long before he was born. They have survived wars and nature and have flourished in spite of either. Grandda will never leave here. He will die here and be buried here.”
    As if she preferred to speak of it no more, she asked, “Hungry? I have venison stew that has been cooking for hours.”
    With that, the two women chatted on about many different things, and for the first time in a long time, Tara felt hopeful. Maybe Reeve had been right when he had suggested they not tell anyone of her past. Maybe, just maybe, this curse could be broken. And she could again live as she once had, having friends and perhaps even falling in love.
    While she hoped it could be so, an inkling of doubt taunted her. Was she being foolish and possibly placing this family in harm’s way? She had thought herself free once and had allowed herself to fall in love with Rory, and he had paid the price.
    Tara rarely allowed herself to go back to the beginning and what had started the curse, and she didn’t want to return there now. She didn’t want to think that it could happen all over again. She wanted to believe, had to believe, that her past was behind her. She was free, and she could hope.
    What were her chances, though, at keeping her freedom? God forbid her father discovered her deception. He would surely come claim her and force her to honor the marriage arrangement he had made. And who could stop him?
    She battled her doubts and worries as bravely as possible while keeping a smile on her face and chatting with Willow.
    Reeve and Jacob returned, and they were all soon sitting around the table, though not before Willow insisted that Tara keep her foot raised. Some of the swelling had gone down, and resting it might just chase away what remained. With nothing for her to brace it on, Reeve drew his chair close to hers, lifted