Her Irish Warrior Michelle Willingham (i read books .TXT) 📖

‘Wait,’ Connor warned. ‘He will come after you. My brother never could resist a challenge.’

But his prediction did not come true. Instead, Genevieve saw Bevan turn away and leave. Her insides turned frigid as he walked from her. He didn’t care. He was leaving her in Connor’s arms, knowing that Connor would not let any harm come to her. She was an obligation, nothing more.

A warm hand cupped her cheek. ‘If he is too brainless to see the beauty in front of him, I am not.’ Connor’s lips descended upon hers, and Genevieve fought to keep herself from struggling.

The gentle kiss should have made her feel wanted, but all it did was make her feel trapped. A suffocating thickness rose in her throat. Like Connor, Hugh had once been lighthearted, and had taken his time wooing her. But the bold strength she had admired had become the arms of a prison.

She trembled, and a frightened moan escaped her. Connor steadied her shoulders. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No.’ She pushed back from him, needing to get away. He let her go, but she knew he watched her. Genevieve fled to a corner staircase, sinking down upon the steps. She rested her head against the side of the wall, unable to calm her rapid breathing.

Her fears were foolish. Connor had not intended to harm her, only to steal a kiss. But the familiar anxiety had risen up and conquered her once more. Tears stung her eyes, but she held them back.

The ghost of Hugh’s abuse tormented her. And as long as he held such power over her she would never escape him. Though her eyes remained dry, inside she wept for the future she could not have.

It took every ounce of his control not to go to her. Connor’s stolen kiss and Genevieve’s subsequent flight infuriated Bevan. His brother had exchanged with him a silent question, and Bevan had answered it with a glare, telling him to leave Genevieve alone.

He remained in a hidden alcove where he could keep watch over her. From the shadows of the corner he saw her seated on the steps, her head leaning against the wall. A lock of her hair had come loose, a dark silken tress that slid across her cheek. Her arms were locked around her waist, but she did not weep.

He hadn’t expected Connor to kiss her, and he chastised himself for leaving her alone. She had been terrified of his brother. Any man would have that effect after the abuses she’d suffered.

And yet she had not run from him. He remembered the delicate feel of her in his arms, like a summer’s rose. When he’d kissed her she had driven all thoughts of Fiona from his mind.

She had offered to sacrifice herself in marriage to prevent fighting over Rionallís. She had sworn not to make demands of him, to let him live his life as he chose.

He believed she would do it, too. But honour demanded that he refuse. He’d watched her cradling the boy to her breast, singing a soft ballad when she thought he didn’t hear her. It was not fair to deny her the chance to become a mother.

Bevan took a step towards her, knowing that he should not. If he closed the path between them, there would be no turning back. But he wanted to comfort her, to drive away the past that haunted her.

Why did she get under his skin in such a way? Why did she make him feel again? His throat tightened with anticipation as he moved closer. He suddenly felt like Ewan, an adolescent boy who knew nothing of how to speak to a woman. What should he say?

Genevieve lifted her chin to look at him. The emptiness in her eyes made him wish more than ever that he had never sent her towards Connor. Though his brother would cut off his arm before harming a woman, he did not understand what Genevieve had suffered.

‘I leave on the morrow for Tara,’ he told her. ‘The King will decide the matter of Rionallís.’

As if she didn’t know that already. He wanted to bite his tongue and take back the ridiculous words.

Genevieve revealed a guarded smile. ‘I should wish you well, but I am afraid I cannot.’

He did not know how to respond, but she continued, ‘I have been thinking about Rionallís, and I believe it would be best if I accompany you to Tara. I can speak with my father and intercede if necessary.’

‘No. You will remain here, where our soldiers can guard you.’He knew he would have to face Genevieve’s father, but he’d not let her fight his battles for him.

‘I will not be a prisoner here,’ she argued.

Bevan took her hands firmly in his. ‘Heed me on this, Genevieve. Believe me when I say you will not go anywhere.’

‘You cannot keep me.’

‘Can’t I?’He gripped her wrists. ‘Hugh’s men are waiting for their chance to take you. I won’t allow you to endanger yourself,’ he said. ‘And that is final.’

‘You have no claim over me, Bevan. I can and I shall do as I wish.’ Her eyes blazed in rebellion, and he wanted to shake some sense into her.

‘Do not defy me on this, Genevieve.’ He moved forward until her back was pressed against the corridor wall.

She winced, and he relaxed his grip, taking a deep breath. ‘I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.’ With his thumbs, he massaged at the sore spots on her wrists.

His thumb drew lazy patterns across her skin, touching its softness.

‘Why does it matter to you what I do?’ she whispered.

He held her gaze. He could not answer her question, for he did not know the reason himself.

She stepped back, pulling her hands away. ‘Bevan, I need to do this. I made the mistake of asking my father for a betrothal to Hugh. I should be the one to petition the King for its severance.’

‘That is your father’s task,’