Dark Warrior (Warrior #2) Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Warrior Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
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She shook her head frantically, letting him know he was not to blame and that she enjoyed the kiss, but he was adamant.

“I had no right. It can never be between you and me.”

She watched him walk away and felt a sense of loss. It made no sense, but then it made much sense. She had hoped to love one day but was that truly possible? What could she offer a man? She was a hunted woman, hunted by a truly evil man.

And yet she wished, hoped; she closed her eyes against the pain in her heart.

If only.

She opened her eyes, now blurred with unshed tears, and searched the ground for the onions and herbs she had picked. They had flown from her hand when Michael had taken her around the waist into his strong arms, protecting her.

The strength of him, the power of his body, the taste of him; she shook her head. He was complete darkness and yet he shed light on her life. With him she knew safety, she knew protection and she knew . . .

She touched her lips. She knew her first kiss.

A tear fell and she was not certain if it was a tear of joy or sorrow or perhaps it was both. The joy of having known a kiss and the sorrow that perhaps she would never experience it again.

Her heart hurt and she did not know what to do. She understood his reluctance to love; theirs would be an impossible love. Her heart however did not understand and would not stop aching.

Mary wiped away her tear and finished gathering her onions and herbs. She was being foolish to think of love now. It would do her little good. She had no home. No safe place, except with Michael.

Stop, she warned herself. You heard him tell you it cannot be.

She refused to acknowledge the ache in her heart; it would go away if she paid it no heed, at least she hoped it would, after all they had been thrown together and had in a strange way become entangled with each other. It was nothing more than a bond of survival they shared.

Mary prepared the evening meal, Michael returned to the castle when the meal was just about ready to eat. He made no mention of where he had been, he simply offered her help, which she declined.

Michael and Mary shared the evening meal but little was said. Michael commented on the delicious stew and Mary’s culinary talent. She responded with a weak smile and a nod, but offered no more.

A rumble of thunder was heard in the distance though the sky remained clear.

“Rain. We will need cover,” Michael said as Mary saw to cleaning up after the meal.

Michael fashioned a cover from wood and brush over their sleeping pallet and then joined Mary where she sat on the broken stone that once was the sturdy front wall of the castle.

Dusk was setting and lightning flashed in the sky, a bolt striking the ground in the distance.

“The storm will be here soon.”

She nodded and held her face up to feel the wind that had suddenly rushed down into the valley, swirling around the decayed castle. The air was cool and felt refreshing against her flushed cheeks.

The sky darkened fast, though night had yet to settle over the land. The wind caused macabre shadows to dance at the edge of the woods, an owl hooted eerily, and birds anxiously sought the protection of their nests.

The storm continued to brew, thunder rumbled, lightning struck, the wind blew, but no rain fell. It was as if the sky demonstrated its anger.

“Storms do not frighten you?”

Mary shook her head.

Michael leaned down and whispered. “What frightens you, Mary?”

That you may never kiss me again.

She shivered at the disheartening thought.

The sadness that suddenly appeared in her eyes was more powerful than any spoken word. In their blue depths he saw a potent mixture of love and sorrow and it upset him to know that nothing he did could change that. She would know sorrow if he loved her or if he did not love her.

Why then would it matter either way? If they shared a brief interlude, a moment in time loving each other, what difference would it make?

He tore his eyes away, looking past her and feeling the ache in his heart grow and spread across his chest, tightening, squeezing, reminding him of the tortuous pain of losing a loved one. He could not love Mary and let her walk out of his life forever, and he could not love her and let her remain in his life.

“You will know love one day, Mary,” he said, averting his eyes from hers and fighting the pain in his heart.

She made no attempt to argue. She could not adequately express herself and would feel all the more the fool. And perhaps now was not the time nor was this decayed castle the place. She would do well to focus on her immediate situation. Or was she merely attempting to convince herself?


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