Midnight Eyes by Brophy, Sarah (well read books .TXT) 📕

was going to waste a day, he might as well be warm doing it; he volunteered to stay near the fire to keep it alight till the last of the hunt parties returned or until two hours before dusk. Then he would return to the Keep to grumble there.

Robert had barely hidden his smile of relief. He needed to spend time alone with his thoughts and the last thing he needed was Matthew’s all-too-knowing presence. There were so many things that seemed lodged in his soul with nowhere to go that he needed to sort them into a comprehendible order before he crumpled under their weight.

Matthew might have a ready ear for confidences, but there was so much that Robert couldn’t tell the man he thought of as a father. How could he describe all of the strange new emotions that boiled inside him, that burned in his once-frozen heart? How did he speak of this new sense of belonging, the feelings of owning and being owned? How could he explain, even to himself, nights spent chastely holding the one woman he had ever needed more than he needed life itself?

Just thinking of it made him uncomfortable, made him realize just how low Imogen had made him sink.

It was beyond even his comprehension, but each night he found himself lingering over his cups to give Imogen time to get to sleep, and yet each night the disappointment was sharp and new as he stood beside their bed and looked down on her as she slept.

In the light of day he could tell himself sternly that it would be wiser and certainly less painful for him if he slept in the chair and waited for her to call him to her bed and into her life, but each night wisdom was lost to darker desires. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from shedding his clothes and crawling in beside her. And each night he felt a near fulfillment as she curled herself trustingly into his arms as if she belonged there.

It was an exquisite, addictive torture.

It was impossible for him to have her so close and not touch her; not kiss her soft skin; not bury his face in the fragrance of her hair. He stopped only when his arousal became too intense to be endured. Then he had to be content just to hold her close, to watch over her as she slept in his arms. And each morning he forced himself to leave her before she awoke.

Matthew’s right, he thought grimily. He was mad, or at least soon would be.

He hadn’t meant it to be like this. On waking beside her that first morning, he’d had no thought other than wooing and winning his wife. He had watched as she slept beside him and ran his thumb over her soft lips with something akin to wonder. It was that very wonder that had made it impossible for him to stay idle in bed waiting for the sun to rise, but he had soon found an excuse to be by her side again.

He laughed at himself as he ran up the stairs two at a time to tell her of the arrival of Gareth and the horses, all the while knowing that it was only a feeble excuse to be with her again. He had rushed into her room and been stopped short as the cold hand of reality had slapped him in the face.

Reality was the elegant gentlewoman who had sat staring blindly at the clumsy oaf who had dared to barge his way into her life without her consent. The world of togetherness that he had been able to construct in the darkness crumbled into nothingness.

How could he even begin to tell her about the strange feelings inside him when he wasn’t sure that he was worthy to breathe the same air as his lady?

He’d run away rather than face the cold, harsh realities. Damn Matthew to hell for being right, Robert thought darkly.

A rustling drew his mind from his hopeless contemplations. Instinctively he dropped into the undergrowth while his eyes scanned the forest around him, trying to find the source of the sound, his bow slipping easily into his hand.

A deer nosed its way cautiously forward, its hide glistening as it moved majestically through the undergrowth. Suddenly, it stood absolutely still, presenting a perfect target, but Robert lowered his arrow from the bowstring. With twenty men out on the hunt for the better part of the day, this one animal would not be missed from the table, and something about its fragile bravery reminded him of Imogen.

It stood still, seemingly staring directly at Robert’s hiding place with an idle curiosity, then suddenly it turned its head to the south. Robert watched its delicate nostrils flare as it caught the scent on the wind of something it didn’t like. It paused tensely for a moment before bounding off in the other direction, agile despite the snow.

Robert drew his brows together as he slowly stood and he too lifted his face to the wind and inhaled deeply, the faint scents of smoke tickling his senses.

It was in the wrong direction for the tower fire and far too strong to be from the Keep’s distant chimneys. As Robert’s men would know better than to light a fire to warn the prey of their presence, it could mean only that there was someone else in his forest, and Robert intended to find out who the invader was.

Walking softly, he began stalking this new prey.

It took half an hour for him to reach the fire. He remained crouched low in the undergrowth, as he cautiously scanned the scene before him. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the man feeding the fire. Gareth had been told to guard the Keep, Robert thought with growing anger, and he had better come up with something brilliant to explain such flagrant disobedience of a direct order.

He stood swiftly and strode over to the fire, the light