WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Kathryn Veque (interesting books to read .TXT) 📖

you. What I can tell you is that I am not married and I am not betrothed. I never shall be, you see, so it would do no good for you to call upon me. I am not meant for… marriage.”

He stared at her a moment, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

He continued staring at her until a ripple of realization crossed his face. “Do you mean that you are meant for the veil?”

He’d just given her a reason for her refusal. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. It would discourage him but not insult him. But it was so very heartbreaking to latch on to that excuse and use it.

She had to force herself.

“Aye,” she said, tearing up. “That is why… why you cannot… and I can never… as much as I would like to. Please believe me… I would like nothing better.”

He was still frowning, digesting what she was telling him. “But why?”

She blinked, trying to stave off the tears. “Because… because my father wishes it,” she said. “I wish it, too. At least, I did. Dray, you will make someone a wonderful husband. I am so very sorry that it cannot be me.”

That was God’s truth. She lowered her head again, genuinely trying not to weep. She caught movement out of the corners of her eyes, realizing he was pushing a cup of wine in her direction. She took it gratefully and drained half the cup.

“Gavriella,” he said after several long moments. “Would your father reconsider? I would very much like to speak to him.”

She couldn’t look at him. “Please,” she begged softly. “You are just making this more difficult. I… I told you that, sometimes, people hide a great deal. You have only known me such a very short time and my life is already set. You cannot change it.”

He didn’t say anything. She kept her head down, looking at the cup in her hands, when he abruptly stood up. She thought he was leaving the table, perhaps going to pay for their meal, when he suddenly came around the side of the table and pulled up a chair right next to hers. Sitting down, he took the cup out of her hands and clasped them both in his big, warm palms.

“I know that I have only known you for a very short time,” he said quietly. “Too short. I met you last night and we have not exactly had an easy time of it, but you must know something about me. I am not a man who has an easy relationship with women. I am old for a man who has never been married or betrothed and I realize that, but it was because I never found a woman that I felt any manner of attraction with. At least, not enough to marry. A woman who laughed so freely at fools beating on one another or who uses an iron poker to defend me from an attacker. I am not sure how to say this, so I shall come out with it. I see a sunrise in you, a new day, and I do not want to see that sun set. Does that make any sense? It is not the shortness of the hours I have known you. Sometimes, one simply knows when someone comes into their life that they do not want to let go.”

Gavriella was taken aback by his words and proximity. He was sitting so close to her that she could feel the heat from his body, but it was nothing compared to the heat from his eyes.

She wanted so badly to give in.

“But… but people hide things…”

“I do not care what you are hiding.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “You cannot say such things,” she said, feeling the tears again. “You do not know anything about me. I have endured things that you cannot imagine and I am beyond your reach. Please, Andreas… you are sweet and honorable and beautiful. But do not ask me again.”

He reached out, cupping her soft cheeks, before leaning forward to kiss her gently on the lips. It was enough to bring a gasp of pain from her, pain and elation and utter joy, and he kissed her again to silence her. He wanted to kiss her fears way because he could see that she was full of them.

“Please,” he murmured. “Just tell me who you are and where you live. Let me at least speak to your father.”

Her eyes opened, bright with tears. “You do not know what you are asking.”

His thumbs caressed her cheeks. “I am a grown man,” he said. “And you have warned me, but it has not frightened me away. Tell me, Gavriella. Please.”

He kissed her again and she broke down, her hands coming up to touch his face. He kissed her fingers, her palms, her cheeks, as she quietly wept. She was so overwhelmed she could hardly speak, unable to deny him, unable to agree with him. She didn’t know what she wanted.

Her head was telling her one thing, but her heart was telling her another.

“I… must think on it,” she murmured. “Please let me think.”

“I will,” he said, kissing her tender wrists. “We shall meet here again, tomorrow morning, and you will tell me what I want to know. Will you promise?”

He was kissing her arm, peeling back the shift and the red sleeve, tenderly kissing her flesh. Gavriella’s heart was racing so that she could hardly breathe, but she managed to nod her head.

It was all she could do.

“I promise you that I will consider everything,” she said breathlessly. “Let me go home and sleep on it.”

“But you will meet me here in the morning.”

“I will, I promise.”

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. “That’s my good lass,” he said. “I’ll take you home now, but I will be here first thing in the morning and if you do not come to me right away, I will go and find you.”

She