Darcy Branwyn

Enduringly Yours

England

The year of our Lord, 1192

…“Well I… let you…” She fell silent. “I could have told my father before you left, then you would become lord.” Her voice trailed off as if she’d just made the discovery. “I could have told him that I let you compromise me but I was too proud.”

Compromised, was that what it was now?

What did she think had happened between them? He’d wanted her for as long as he could remember. That she’d wanted him back had been all he could ever have hoped for.

He’d been stupid. He thought what they’d had had been enough. Truth was he didn’t know what he’d been thinking, other than she was already his, would somehow always be. He hadn’t thought about the damage he’d left behind or what it would cost her socially…