Page 40 of Moon Craving

He didn't wait for the baron to translate Talorc's words for the stupid woman. His

king had made the requirement, and Talorc had no intention of wasting a messenger on

sending bloodied sheets to the grasping Englishwoman.

He marched forward, grabbed his bride and dragged her to the cottage. He went

inside and slammed the door so hard the walls rattled.

Chapter 4

Talorc turned to face his bride. "Your mother is a bitch."

"She is no longer my mother," Abigail said in a bare whisper, terror coming off her

in waves. "Sir Reuben said I am a Sinclair now. You did not deny it."

"One barrier stands between you and that truth."

"My maidenhead." There was no sound to the words, merely a breath of air as she

mouthed them.

"Aye."

Abigail's hand flew to her throat and she looked wildly around her. "You would take

me now?"

Not likely. He would not be dictated to by his king, much less an English lady in this

matter. But before he got a chance to say so, his bride simply crumpled.

Using the preternatural speed of his wolf, he caught her before she landed on the

floor. Damn, she was vulnerable. Not like her sister. Emily would have called him a goat

and told him to go to hell before having her maidenhead breached within minutes of her

wedding.

Talorc should have been disgusted by his new wife's weakness, but instead he felt

regret to have caused her such distress.

The feeling shocked him, but even more astonishing was the way it echoed in his

wolf's heart. Neither of them wanted her hurt. He gently laid her on the smaller of the two

beds in the cottage. The other stank of the baron and his wife. The narrow bed Abigail had

slept on smelled only of her and fresh air.

Her eyes fluttered open, her body going immediately taut with wariness.

Their gazes met. Her eyes flared and then filled with sadness. "This is it, then."

"You are so bothered by the prospect of sharing my bed?"