Love Me Forever Read Free Page B

now? This man was not interested in her in
such an intimate way.
    “Something troubles you?” he asked, his
confident voice assuring her he could ease any concern.
    She stared at him, uncertain how to
respond.
    He seemed to understand her hesitation.
‘Trust me. I will not hurt you.”
    She continued to stare at him, wondering
over the battle that had caused such vicious scars. He had fought
hard and suffered. She wondered if the battle had been victorious
or if he had suffered defeat and if his scars would always remind
him of that day. And she wondered why he had chosen to reside here
in this cottage alone. Why had he not returned to his clan?
    With so many questions and not one answer,
she wondered how she could trust this stranger. The answer was
simple, for it had repeated in her head too often.
    She had no choice.
    He understood by the resigned look on her
face. “I will get the broth.”
    She watched him walk off. If he suffered any
other injuries, they could not be detected, for he moved with
strength and confidence. It seemed his face had taken the brunt of
the battle, and she could only imagine the horror of it all.
    Her eyes grew heavy as she watched him ladle
the broth into a bowl from the black pot over the open flames, and
try as she might she could not force them to remain open. She
thought to rest them for a few moments, just a few, but as soon as
they closed, she slipped into a restful slumber.
    Royce returned with bowl in hand to find her
sound asleep. He had not the heart to wake her. She needed as much
rest as possible, and while the food would help aid in her
recovery, he could always feed her later when she woke.
    He returned the bowl to the table and then
returned to the bed, adjusting the covers over her to make certain
she stayed warm. He had come upon the coach by accident. He had not
planned to take that trail when out hunting for food, but now he
was glad he had. It had been obvious that the two men had been
thrown from the coach and died on impact.
    He had been surprised to see that anyone
inside the coach had survived. When he had discovered her body, he
had thought for certain that she had suffered fatal wounds. She had
not, though her body was badly bruised and her pain
considerable.
    He had not realized the extent of her
bruising until he began to undress her and the faint purple marks
began to surface, and they would only grow worse over the next day
before they subsided and began to heal.
    He could not help but notice her beauty. Her
long dark hair fell in a riot of curls down her back and around her
face. It mattered not how many times he would push them off her
face, the stubborn curls would return with a bounce and
determination—much like her personality, he realized. Her features
were soft, her complexion a creamy pale, and her eyes were a vivid
blue that put the color of the sky to shame.
    She stood a bare three or four inches over
five feet and she possessed a body that captured the eye and melted
the heart. She was stunning. She had full breasts, with large rosy
nipples and a narrow waist that gave way to curving hips. Her skin
was soft and silky, the type he could touch forever and never grow
tired of.
    He had not, of course, touched her
intimately. She was injured and required aid, and he tended her in
such a manner, keeping his thoughts from straying, though not
always successfully. He had been too long without a woman. He had
never found it difficult to find a willing woman, and being he
lacked a wife, women were his to enjoy.
    Of course, if he had such a beauty as
Brianna as a wife, he would look no more; she would forever be in
his bed.
    He ran a careful hand over the scars on his
face and shook his head slowly. How would women see him now? Would
they scream in fright as Brianna had? Would they turn away in
disgust where before they eagerly joined with him?
    The battle he had fought had been victorious
and a necessity, but he had suffered greatly, losing many men