Free Sabine by Moira Rogers

however, will not have the comfort of blissful oblivion. I worry that his allegiance to you drove him to act rashly.”
    Pulling back, Ciar lifted one hand to cup her cheek. “Farran is a miserable, lonely man whose allegiance to me begins and ends at the battlefield. If anything drove him to act rashly, it was desire and concern for Iloria.”
    â€œThen I’ll put it out of my mind.” Though it was hard to forget the other woman’s stricken, shocked expression. What had transpired at the palace might not have put Farran in a difficult situation, but Iloria was quite another matter.
    â€œSabine.” He tilted her head back. “Farran is not an easy man, but he is a good man. Once we’ve exhausted your mother’s patience, we’ll impose on them for a week or two, and you’ll see all is well. Iloria made her choice, after all—perhaps she has good reason to wish to be away from her family and the court.”
    It made sense. “You’re right, as you usually are.”
    The carriage lurched to a halt, and Ciar laughed as he swooped down to kiss her, clearly meaning to distract her from her nervousness. “I’ll remind you that you think so the next time I manage to enrage you, love.”
    â€œWe’re here?” Sabine’s heart jumped into her throat. Her protestations aside, she dreaded stepping out of the coach and seeing her mother only to find dazzled surprise on her face instead of recognition. “I’m not ready for this.”
    â€œYou are.” His large hand covered her heart, fingers spread wide. “The heart is stronger than any spell. We proved that. She will remember you.”
    Sabine drew in a deep breath as the coachman opened the door. She could do this, like everything else in her life, because she had to. She would not shrink or hide. She was the High Lady of the Forest and, more, Ciar’s mate.
    She could do anything.
    She stepped out of the coach just as the cottage’s rough front door swung open. Her mother walked out into the afternoon sun, wiping her hands on her apron.
    Her eyes widened as they took in Ciar’s fine carriage and Ciar himself, but when her gaze fell on Sabine, she gasped.
    Ciar dropped his hand to the small of Sabine’s back and nudged her forward. “Go.”
    Her knees would barely hold her, but she walked forward anyway. “Hello, Mother.”
    Tears filled her eyes, and she pressed shaking fingers to her lips. “Is it you, Sabine? Truly?”
    Some final, hidden part of her opened to the sun, and she flew into her mother’s embrace. “It is—truly.”
    â€œOh, Sabine.” Her voice caught on a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob. “Oh, my darling girl. Where have you been?”
    The truth was unbelievable, and useless now. “It doesn’t matter.”
    And it didn’t. She had her mother, and she had her husband. She had herself —which, in the end, had been the hardest thing of all to lose. It already seemed like a dream, like an oft-retold account of a long-ago tale, with one difference—no matter what, Sabine was sure now that she would never take her life or the people in it for granted.
    Her mother pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Come in, both of you. Please.”
    Sabine slipped her hand into Ciar’s, smiled up into his beautiful eyes, shining with love. “Yes, let’s.”

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Think a vampire-hunting bloodhound is dangerous? Try threatening his woman.
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    Wilder’s Mate
    Â© 2011 Moira Rogers
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    Bloodhounds, Book 1
    Wilder Harding is a bloodhound, created by the Guild to