Free Suzanne Robinson by The Legend

was, so she came back and spoke to Galen. “Go about your business, my lord. I have plans to make and no time for interferences from you.
    “My lady.” Alfric folded the parchment he’d been holding. “You never said someone lived in this place when we spoke in London.”
    “It matters not,” Honor said. “And I marvel atthe great speed of your journey. I thought you’d be at least another month on your previous job.”
    “By God’s mercy!” Galen bellowed.
    All the hammering and shouting stopped. The men crawling on the wall walk and hanging out tower windows stopped too.
    Honor rounded on him and was about to speak, but Galen shouldered her aside and stalked away.
    “Master Alfric, a word with you.” When Alfric didn’t move, he snapped, “At once.”
    He stopped by the well and fixed his gaze on the master mason. The man had skin like sun-dried leather and hands scarred from years of working with stone and brick. He waited until the man began to fidget under his gaze, then spoke softly.
    “I am Galen de Marlowe. This is my land. Leave.”
    Alfric twisted his parchment and bowed low. “Oh, Lord de Marlowe, I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know this was your land. The lady said—”
    “I know what the lady said.” Galen folded his arms and glared down at the mason. “Begone and trouble me no more.”
    “Aye, my lord. At—at once, my lord.”
    Only too happy to leave, Alfric scurried over to the wall walk, avoided Honor’s outraged gaze, and began herding his men out of the castle. Honor watched with narrowed eyes, then marched over to the master mason. Galen had the great pleasure of seeing her wave her arms, point this way and that to no avail.
    “This is my land, I tell you.”
    Shaking his head, Master Alfric shoved his cap down around his ears and hurried after his retreating men. Galen watched his adversary run after the mason, only to trip on the root of the chestnut tree and fall on her face. He burst out with a sharp laugh. He stopped laughing when she failed to jump to her feet as she had all the other times he’d seen her trip. Running over to her, he knelt beside her, his brow furrowed. When he tried to take her in his arms, Honor twisted over onto her back and scowled up at him.
    “You horrible man, don’t touch me.”
    “I thought you’d hurt yourself.”
    Honor shoved his hands away and sat up. “I got the wind knocked out of me, that’s all. I’ll not have you touch me.”
    “Why not?” He smiled at the way she tried to brush herself off but merely spread the dust around.
    She paused to stare at him. “After what you did to me the last time we met? I’ve heard about you. I’ve heard how you enchant women and make them do your bidding. You look at them with those sorcerer’s eyes and—and …”
    “And what?” He smiled again when she reddened.
    “Never mind. You put me in great unquietness with your forward ways, my lord. Leave me be.”
    “You have a smudge on your nose.”
    She rubbed her nose, then her cheek, transferring the smudge from one place to the other.Grinning, he picked up the hem of her gown. Honor slapped his hands.
    “Stop that and hold still,” he commanded.
    She watched him warily as he wiped her face. He brushed wisps of her hair back, and his skin slid gently against hers. He couldn’t stop himself from brushing her cheek with his fingertips. She was still scowling at him, but his ire had been swallowed up in humor and desire.
    “Did you know your skin is as soft as it was when you were a child?”
    He heard the rough quality of his voice. Ah, well. It wasn’t a surprise. Galen drew closer to her and she retreated, placing her hand flat on his chest.
    “What has my skin to do with anything?”
    “It has to do with this.”
    He encircled her with one arm and kissed her. He thought she would pull away, but after a moment’s frozen stillness, she opened her mouth. She tasted like cinnamon. He leaned closer and soon they were lying on the