Free A Knight of Honor by Laurel O'Donnell Page A

as if reading every thought, every agonizing memory.   She couldn’t hide the pain she was feeling.   Not now, not yet.   She couldn’t manage to conjure up her infamous indifference.
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
    And he meant it.   She could tell by the sincerity in his voice, the shadow of hurt in his eyes.   But all Taylor could do was stand there, stifling the sobs that threatened to consume her body.
    He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it neatly behind her ear.
    She fought the loss of control that threatened to overwhelm her, the dark abyss that had been waiting to swallow her up since her mother’s death.   Taylor leaned her head against his palm, and he automatically cupped her cheek.   She closed her eyes tightly, and tears squeezed forth from her closed lids.   She felt his cool hand against her hot cheek, and then he slid it to the nape of her neck, pulling her against his strong chest.
    He was strong and warm and safe.   She put her forehead against his chest and felt strong fingers rub her neck.   Her hair cascaded over her face, shielding it from him.   For the first time since her mother’s death, she let her sorrow overwhelm her.   She sobbed silently, her tears trickling from her eyes like a soft rain.
    Jared had been more than just a friend.   He had been her only family for eight years.   He had been there as a teacher, a protector.   He knew her better than she knew herself.   He could comfort her and tell her what needed to be done.   He had guided her away from many foolish actions, had given her invaluable counsel on numerous things.   And she knew she could always talk to him.   About anything.
    And now he was gone.
    Slowly, her sobs lessened.   She wiped her eyes and her nose and looked up.   Slane was there, watching her with gentle eyes, his golden hair waving slightly in a soft breeze.   And Taylor realized suddenly that his arms were around her, holding her.
    And she liked it.
    Slane lowered his arms, letting them slide down hers.   A strange tremor raced through Taylor’s body, startling her.   She stepped back, away from him.
    A cold wind slid between them and Taylor lifted her hand to swipe at a lock of hair that had blown before her face.
    Slane’s gaze dropped to her wrist.   “You’re hurt,” he said softly.
    Taylor looked down to see the dark black and blue marks marring her skin, the large bump that had appeared.   She realized she must have struck something in the wagon.   The pain erupted from her wrist as she laid eyes on it, as if her body just realized that it had been wounded, but she shook her head.   “It’s nothing,” she murmured.   And then more aches started to surface, dull throbs that seemed to cover her entire body.
    Slane took her hand, his blue eyes drawn to her wrist.
    Taylor followed his gaze.   But it wasn’t her bruised skin she was looking at.   It was the tender way in which Slane held her.   His large fingers engulfed her hand, shielding it, holding it carefully.   Her fingers wrapped around his thumb.   “Does it hurt?” he wondered.
    A crooked smile formed on her lips.   “Only when I move it,” she said.
    “You can move it?”
    “Only if I want to feel some pain.”
    Slane put his hands on her shoulders to ease her to the ground.   Taylor let him tend her.   She let him move her wrist tentatively.   She knew it wasn’t broken.   But she liked the way he touched her, the gentleness and concern he bestowed upon her.
    For a moment, she wasn’t the hunted woman.   For a moment, he wasn’t the hunter.   They were just a man and a woman.
    “How long have you known him?” Slane wondered, not raising his eyes to hers.
    “Eight years,” she answered.   He lifted his gaze to lock eyes with hers and Taylor read the surprise there.   She smiled humorlessly.   “We left the castle together.”
    He bent his head over her wrist again.   “He taught you to