The Protector by Madeline Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

imagining such a thing.
    Her sleeping face, luminous in the fire glow, looked peaceful, young, and mysterious. He could have looked at her forever if the back of his neck had not pained him so. He collapsed on the pillow.
    She had been with him before during this illness, but his memories were mere phantoms. His last lucid sight of her came from the day after he arrived, when he woke briefly to see her sitting on the nearby cot. There had been trouble on the estate in the morning and she had ridden out with the guard to try and catch the thieveswho once more harassed them. While they were gone the fever had slammed into him, and by the time Ascanio had come to check at midday he was a shivering mess. After that all was darkness and fearful dreams, except for one clear moment when he'd fought to consciousness and seen her there. “I am with you” was all she'd said before the black cloud claimed him again.
    Now he stroked her hair, enjoying its texture. She had not been here the whole time. Others had come, Ascanio and another woman. Perhaps the whore whom she had mentioned.
    Images from that night flew past his inner eye. He had frightened her. She was totally unawakened, no more than a child in these things. Only as she'd sought to run like a rabbit facing a fox had she been able to name what was happening. Even then she had misunderstood it as base and desperate lust. Never before in his life had he put aside his desire as he had forced himself to do with her.
    Her curls felt soft as they wrapped themselves around his hand. She was a unique woman, strong and self-possessed, but he had seen the child in her.
    She was practically alone, like him. She indeed walked a fine line, as she had said that night. She had been lucky thus far, but luck never holds forever.
    The fog began clouding in again. He unwrapped his fingers from her hair but placed his hand flat against the silky strands. Silently, as he sank into oblivion, he swore an oath to protect this strange woman who stood so bravely on her own in a dangerous and graceless world.
    The canvas walls blocked the sun, and the shelter was lit mainly by the fire. It took Anna's eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness as she slipped inside.
    What she finally saw made her halt in her tracks.
    Morvan had risen from the cot. He stood naked in front of the hearth, facing it, legs parted and arms spread low and wide. His head was angled back, and she imagined that his eyes were closed. He appeared as if the sensation of the heat had created an ecstasy.
    He had not heard her enter. She should leave, or make herself known. She should at least look away.
    She didn't.
    The plague had cost him some weight, but it had not diminished his strength much. He was still a beautiful animal, more like the courser she had just ridden at the farm than a warhorse. His torso and legs were muscular but without exaggerated bulk. His shoulders stretched straight and hard and a series of flat angled planes defined him. His body was chiseled in stone rather than molded of clay, and now it stood in its glory in the fire glow, like a statue given life.
    She had come to know that body well while she cared for him during the fever and deliriums. More than once she had needed to bathe it. After the first day she had ceased being embarrassed. During his illness he was both with her and separate at the same time, and his ignorance had made her fascination with his beauty dispassionate.
    It had been different since the fever had broken, though. Very different. Suddenly Morvan became a man conscious and alert, regaining his vitality with every passing hour. The slightest touch had turned awkward and embarrassing. For her, not him. Those diamond eyes had reflected vague amusement at her predicament. Ascanio had guessed, and taken over the more personal duties. That had helped, but the last two weeks had still been difficult.
    She suspected that the next few would be impossible.
    His arms fell. He looked over his