Free Return of the Rogue by Donna Fletcher Page B

apart. Cavan wrapped his arms firmly around his wife as she buried her face in his chest and her longdark hair wiped at his face. He felt her shiver and wondered over its cause, the wind or his kiss?
    When the wind died down, she glanced up at him, and he saw desire in her lovely eyes. He could take her here and now on the hard, cold ground, just as he’d seen the barbarians do to their women without thought or caring, just plain lust, plain fornication.
    He shook the vivid images from his head and silently cursed himself. He had yet to shed the filth the barbarians had imprinted on him and he wondered if he would ever feel worthy enough to be the husband his wife deserved or the honorable clan leader his people expected.
    Cavan gently set her away from him. “We must return to the keep before the weather worsens.”
    Honora stood speechless, staring at him.
    She was obviously trying to make sense of their recent exchange, and while he could offer an explanation and set her mind at ease, he found himself unable or perhaps unwilling to confide in her. How could he expect her, an innocent, to understand his fear, when he himself was struggling to understand it?
    “I am your wife,” she said, as if the reminder might help him.
    “You need not remind me.” He didn’t mean to sound caustic, though perhaps it was best for them both. She would keep her distance, and he would need to keep his until he felt ready, certain that he could be a good husband to her.
    He held out his hand. “Let us return to the keep.”
    “I need no help,” she said, and made her way past him.
    “But I do,” he whispered, and followed.
     
    Honora fell into an easy routine, taking breakfast early and alone before anyone in the keep woke for the day. Weather permitting, she would then walk the moor or retire to the sewing chamber and tend to her stitching.
    It had been a couple of weeks since her husband kissed her, and the kiss had lingered long in her memory. Surprisingly, she’d enjoyed it more than she had expected. He was strong yet gentle with her, and she felt unfamiliar stirrings she wished to explore.
    Her husband, however, had not kissed her again since that day, purposely avoided her, and worst of all, continued to sleep on the hard floor in front of the fireplace. She didn’t know what to do or even who to speak with about it. She had thought to confide in Addie, but then, she was Cavan’s mother and would advise patience, as she had before.
    Honora wished her mother were alive. She would have then discussed the matter with her, and her mother would have suggested and advised her, and offered her comfort. But there was no one to offer her comfort; she was alone.
    “I have come to seek the company of my little sister.”
    Honora jumped at the sound of Lachlan’s voice and turned to see him close the sewing room door behind him.
    She greeted him with a smile as he sat in the chair to her right and stretched his long legs out in front of the hearth.
    Lachlan was a ruggedly handsome man, like most of the Sinclare men, but possessed considerable charm that made him appear all the more handsome. Honora often thought it was the twinkle in his brown eyes and the sinfully playfulsmile he constantly wore that made him so appealing to women.
    “Is my brother a good husband?”
    His direct and unexpected query startled her.
    Lachlan shrugged. “You two don’t spend much time together, and soon tongues will begin to wag, and you know what happens when gossip gets started.”
    She did; truth somehow got distorted when gossip reigned. She chose her words carefully for she did not feel comfortable discussing her husband with his brother. “Cavan is busy with plans to find Ronan.”
    “You mean his obsession to find Ronan.”
    Honora was quick to defend her husband. “He knows what your brother suffers far better than you. How can you not expect him to be obsessed with finding Ronan?”
    Lachlan nodded. “True enough. I sought you out in