Return of the Guardian-King by Karen Hancock Read Free Book Online Page A

grief and terrified of what the future held, she’d planned to hand the child off to Cooper and Elayne to raise. But suddenly Coop was dead and Elayne missing, Abramm was gone forever, and Carissa herself was en route to a country whose people hated her. Who else was there? And so she’d said yes.
    She knew now it was a mistake. Not just because he didn’t love her and it was unfair to bind him to her like this. Nor because of the ultimate irony to be found in the fact she’d argued against this very thing in Abramm’s case, only to enter into it herself. No, the mistake lay in the fact that she’d never expected to feel this fierce, hot longing, this desire for him that shook her to the core and made her hands shake and her heart ache with a physical pain.
    She felt Conal sigh and snuggle closer, but still she did not move, savoring both the son in her arms and the man who stood with his back to her only a few strides away, hands clasped behind him, unaware of her admiring gaze and desperate longing. She wondered if she had the same soft-eyed look of hopeless adoration with which Maddie used to gaze at Abramm when she thought she’d never have him.
    Maddie had been wrong about that in the end. Maybe I’m wrong, too. Oh, Father Eidon, let it be so. Please . . .
    But she didn’t see any way she could be. She was married to the man, after all. He could have whatever he wanted from her—she’d give it to him eagerly. But after six months of marriage, he’d shown not one hint of interest.
    Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder, and Prisina immediately stepped forward to take the babe while Carissa saw to refastening her gown. Trap had the routine timed perfectly. As soon as she finished getting her clothes in order, he turned from the window and set to stirring the pot of cocoa, then poured her a cup.
    “Thank you,” she said as she took the vessel from him, careful not to touch his fingers.
    “My pleasure, ma’am.”
    “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said as she took a sip.
    “You enjoy it, do you not?”
    “Aye. I enjoy it, but . . .”
    “It pleases me, as well.” His brown eyes came up to meet hers, dark and soft with affection that triggered a heat of hope and response within her. But he only smiled slightly and turned his gaze to the cup in his hand. “So why should I stop?”
    Truthfully, part of her never wanted him to stop. But another part urged her to bring out into the open what they both seemed so intent on ignoring. The selfless part of her, the part that truly loved him, should set him free of this self-imposed bondage.
    “You have so much to do.”
    “And spending a few quiet moments with my wife should be at the bottom of my list?”
    She felt the heat rise again, wanting to believe there was something there, reminding herself it was only Trap. Of course he would be gracious. Of course he would be kind. She knew he liked her. She wanted him to love her. Why can’t I ever be satisfied? Why is there always something more that I want? She sipped her cocoa. “Your sword practice went well?”
    “It did.” He held his cup in both hands as if warming chilled fingers. “Conal seems to be doing better these days. No more of the crying fits, I understand.”
    She smiled. “No, thank Eidon. Whatever pained him seems to have faded.”
    “And you’re getting a good night’s rest finally. I can see it in your face and the brightness in your eyes.”
    She blushed and looked at her cup. That she had chosen to reject the wet nurse and see to Conal’s feedings herself had not been well received in the Chesedhan court. One more distasteful eccentricity of the Kiriathan barbarians, it would seem, but he was far too precious to her to pass off to some stranger whose dialect was so thick she could hardly understand it. The downside was that she’d been roused from her sleep every night now for months, sometimes for hours at a time when he was fussy.
    She looked up at him. “You’ll