Free Return of the Rogue by Donna Fletcher

herself safe with him, and simply because for a single moment she thought she’d seen kindness in him. She thought she could trust him. In truth, she could trust no one. She had been alone in this world since her mother’s death and had to accept it and continue to protect herself with her wits, as she’d been doing for so very long now.
    With a breath of strength that rose up from deep inside her, she said, “This time, I will remember. May I be dismissed?”
    “No,” he snapped. “I brought you here so you could escape the confines of the keep and your duties. I will leave and you will stay.”
    She licked her lips, her mouth having gone dry, as it always did when she attempted to defend herself. “What if I—”
    “Stop!”
    Honora’s eyes widened at his stern command. What had she done now?
    “Don’t lick your lips.”
    She offered an explanation. “They are dry.”
    He offered his own. “You invite when you do that.”
    “Invite?”
    “A kiss.”
    She gasped. “I never meant—”
    “Your innocence invited.” He released her and stepped away.
    Honora thought to turn and run, but she had a duty to this man and her vows, and her vows had yet to be sealed. Whether she favored the thought or not, their marriage had to be consummated.
    She gathered the courage to say it and hopefully invite his response. “You are my husband.”
    “A husband who doesn’t want you,” he yelled, his words magnified by the howling wind that suddenly surrounded them.
    His words struck like a finely aimed arrow, and they hurt her badly. She understood this marriage was forced upon them both, but what was done was done, and neither of them could change that. They could only make the most of the situation. Obviously, he did not feel the same way.
    She did not know what to do, and feared her stepfather’s response if he should learn of this. She wanted to run and hide, but where? She had no place to go. No real home. No one who truly wanted her, loved her.
    Honora caught sight of the moors, which stretched out endlessly beyond the keep, and the small patch of trees where she and her mother would forage for plants and laugh together. Her mother’s unconditional love stabbed at her heart, and she didn’t pause to think, not even when the first raindrop struck her cheek. She turned and ran from her husband, down the stairs, ignoring his shouted command for her to stop, ignoring the curious eyes of all she passedas she bolted out of the keep and headed along the moors to what seemed to her a small spot of love.
     
    Cavan pursued her while spewing a string of oaths that kept everyone out of his way. He knew his rage made him appear a man bent on reprisal and that tongues would certainly wag about the way he chased after his wife like a madman, or more appropriately, like a barbarian, but he could not help himself.
    Honora was faster than he had expected. She flew across the moors like a winged beauty. Her cloak flared out, her long dark hair blew wildly in the wind, and the rain did not hinder her rapid pace.
    He saw where she was headed, the small cropping of woods that many would not enter, fearing tales of fairies and gnomes that were none too inviting. His wife was either foolish or courageous, but then, didn’t it take a fool to be courageous in the first place?
    Cavan halted abruptly upon entering the woods. The place was dense with trees, bushes, and boulders, perfect hiding places for the wee people, and it was the heavy clouds and dense foliage in the woods that made it appear to be dusk. Rain trickled in a gentle rhythm over the leaves and rocks.
    “Honora!” he called out, and his voice returned to him in an eerie echo.
    There was no thought to leaving her there on her own to fend for herself against the creatures who inhabited the place. She was his wife, and it was hisduty to protect her. Besides, it had been his callous words that caused her to flee.
    He had not meant to hurt her. He merely wanted her to keep