“Conor?”
“It’s nothing, love. Come stand with me in front of the fire, you’re trembling so.”
She didn’t resist, instead obliged him so willingly that Conor could hardly believe how a few days’ time had changed everything between them.
Distrust to trust. Hatred to love—ah, but had he ever really hated her and she, him?
Aye, they had been born as enemies, their earlier interactions fraught with hostility and suspicion, but a spark had flared within him from the first moment he saw her that he was certain had flickered within her, too.
A spark igniting into a raging flame that engulfed him now as Conor drew her within his arms again and bent his head to kiss her…Annalise reaching up to cradle his face and kiss him back.
So sweetly at first, so tenderly, that he felt his breath catch again and he was shaken to his core at the fierceness of his love for her.
God help him, he didn’t want to think about tomorrow when she would be taken from him unless he could convince his father to allow him to accompany her to Athy.
He didn’t want to think about her upcoming wedding to Maurice de Saint Michael unless Conor could somehow prevent it—but how?
The pressure of his mouth upon Annalise’s deepening as his frustration at their seemingly hopeless predicament only grew until she moaned suddenly and he drew back, his face flushing hot.
“Forgive me, love—ah, no, if I’ve hurt you…”
“No, Conor, never…but what are we to do? Soon we will be parted?—”
“Not if my father allows me to escort you to Athy and I slay the bastard—by God, Annalise, he will not have you!”
Conor’s vehement outburst seemed to ring around them even as her expression had grown stricken, tears springing to her eyes.
“How could that be possible? He surely has seasoned knights and men-at-arms by the score surrounding him…and I cannot bear to think mayhap it will be you who is slain…”
Now a sob broke from Annalise’s throat that sounded so heartrending to Conor, he felt his own eyes stinging when he enveloped her in an embrace as ardent as when she had entered his dwelling-house.
“Shh, love, let us try not to think of being parted from each other by fate or death—ah, God, Annalise, my love, my heart, don’t cry.”
If Conor had hoped his gently uttered words would soothe her, he knew when she began to weep in earnest that pent-up emotions would not be quelled so easily. He didn’t hesitate, but swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed where he sat down to cradle her against him.
Conor rocking her as one would a wee babe, Annalise clinging to him and sobbing as if her heart was breaking.
His heart ached, too, at a future that didn’t look bright at all at that moment, but dark and threatening, though he refused to give up hope.
How could he when his truest chance for happiness was the woman he held in his arms?
Attempting again to soothe her, Conor kissed the top of her head, her brow, her tear-stained cheek that left the taste of salt upon his lips.
She hiccoughed and wept some more even as he kissed her temple, her eyelids, and the sweetly tilted side of her nose until her arms drifted around his neck and she raised her flushed face to look at him.
Her sea green eyes still welled with tears, though she gazed at him so earnestly that he felt his heart begin to pound.
“Conor O’Byrne, you are my beloved husband and always will be…no matter what happens. If we have only this one night, then let us spend it together as if we were truly wedded, you and I…”
Her soft voice had trailed off and still she stared at him as Conor’s heart thundered harder at what she had proposed…and what he would not deny her.
He felt so overcome for the longest moment that he could but nod, though he tightened his arms around her as she clasped one of his hands to lace her fingers with his own.
“Aye, Annalise Burgoyne, you are my beloved wife and always will be…no matter what happens,” he finally murmured, his throat tight with emotion. “If we have only this one night, we will spend it together as if we were truly wedded before God…though I will never give up hope that such a day will come—aye, I swear it!”
Now Conor’s eyes stung again as he bent his head to kiss the woman who had blazed into his life when he had least expected it…once his enemy, aye, but now his forever love.
Annalise’s lips so achingly tender against his that Conor knew her heart thudded as fervently for him…his Norman O’Byrne bride.
