Dark Warrior (Warrior #2) Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Warrior Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
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She winced again.

“I will be gentle,” he reassured her.

Michael placed a crock of water by the fire to warm and retrieved a knife from somewhere within the confines of his shroud. He held up his knife, the metal blade gleaming in the fire’s light.

She frowned and skittishly presented her hand to him.

“I will be gentle, trust me.”

She nodded, her eyes growing wide, letting him know that trust was not a question with him.

He kept a firm hold on her hand as he brought the tip of the knife to her wound. She squeezed shut her eyes and braced herself for the pain.

His hesitation made her wonder if he feared hurting her, and the thought touched her heart.

“Done,” he said and trickled warm water over her wound, then patted it dry with the end of his robe.

Her eyes sprang open in disbelief. She stared at her hand to make certain he had removed the slivers, having felt not a prick or a pain. They were gone. She smiled and pressed her cheek to his.

They lingered against each other for a moment, then she moved to the table while keeping a hand on his arm. She pointed to the food.

“I set the bird to cooking when I returned,” he said, “and went in search of you, intending to admonish you for leaving the castle grounds. I found no sign of you, though I expected to find you at the stream.”

After stripping a large piece of meat from the bird, Mary tried to explain that he had not seen her garments in his search because she hid them beside the large willow tree.

“You hid your garments?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“You hid them so I would not see them if I should return before you were done.”

She shook her head again.

“Aye, you did,” he said. “You knew I would glance past the tree line and if I did not spot you, I would go no farther. Your actions were born of intelligence and I commend you.”

Her eyes rounded in surprise.

“Though I admonish you for disobeying my orders.”

She sighed and nodded.

Foolish. She had been foolish.

Then she shook her head to let him know she would never disobey him again.

“Promise me, Mary. Promise me you will heed my orders for it may endanger your life as it did today.”

She placed her hand to her heart and nodded.

“It is a warrior’s honor that you give me?”

She stuck her chin up and then gave a firm nod.

“Good, then I will say no more about it.”

They slept well that night wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing time was their enemy. It would end and they would part, both understood the necessity of it, and both prayed for a miracle.

Early the next morning they sat on the bank of the stream fishing for their breakfast. Poles were made of thick willow branches and old frayed rope with rusty hooks fashioned from scrap metal. The fish seemed to ignore the hook, instead feeding on the tiny fish that swam near the surface.

“They taunt us,” Michael said, humor edging his harsh tone.

Mary nodded and motioned that she was not that hungry. She reached for a stick and wrote in the dirt. Speak with me.

“Of what do you wish to speak?”

You when a lad.

That caused a pause and Mary hoped she had not stirred painful memories. Then she heard a soft rumble of laughter as though he had attempted to conceal it but failed.

Tell me, she urged, emphasizing her desire to hear about him with a deep underscore drawn beneath the words.

“Adventure,” he said and she thought she could feel his smile; he sounded happy. “I was forever getting myself lost in the woods or stranded in a boat in the middle of a loch, or stuck in a tree that seemed far taller once I had climbed it. But no one or nothing could stop me from exploring and I was fortunate to have a family who encouraged my exploits.”

Siblings?

A lengthy pause proceeded. “A sister.”

She waited, the hesitancy in his voice making her wonder if he would speak no more about her.

Then as if he opened a door long closed and locked tightly, he began to talk.

“Cathleen was my little sister.”

His voice swelled with emotion and Mary wondered if a tear touched his eye.

“She forever followed me around and I looked after her as an older brother should. I was there whenever she needed me. If she fell down, I picked her up and tended her wounds. If she cried I wiped her tears. It was my duty to see to her care, my father reminded me of that on his deathbed. I was to take care of my mother and sister, but it was no chore for me. I loved them both and would do anything for them.”

It was not difficult to realize that something had happened to his family. Mary waited, hoping he would continue to share his past and his pain with her, hoping perhaps it would help heal him.


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