Darcy Branwyn

Worth Fighting For:

England, 1192

…He wondered once again if this was the same woman he’d left last night. “You just want me for my dog,” he teased.

“You do come with her highest of recommendations. No, I think I’d expected to see you this morning.” She shrugged. “Sitting here alone gives me too much time to think.”

The smart thing to do would be to recommend some books be brought up from the library for her. But then again, Matthew wasn’t always smart. “You can move into my room as soon as you’re ready.”

He heard her swallow audibly. She stiffened in his arms and then seemed to force herself to relax.

“You can be in my chamber and not bed me,” he told her. He might not sleep very well, but then he wasn’t anyway so what did it matter? Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. “You’ll be safer once you’re with me,” he told her.

“I… I suppose I would be safer.”

He felt a but in there somewhere. “But?”

“But you won’t be safe.”

“Let me deal with that part.”

“I swear to God, Matthew, if you make me feel something for you and then get yourself killed I will…” She lifted her head to look at him, her brow furrowing as she thought about how to threaten his dead body.

“I’ll haunt you day and night, and you can tell me repeatedly what a fool I was,” he said for her.

“You have a deal,” she said…

Repeat after me: I want to be a member. I want to be a member. I want to be a member…