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

to know what’s going on, is that it? I’m not trusted to share your fears, only your body!” he finished with open disgust.

“You’re really angry,” she said dully, instinctively bracing herself for the blow that was sure to fall.

He let out a groan of pure frustration. “Of course I’m angry, goddamn it! I’m also hurt and frustrated.” He held on to the back of her head with the palm of his hand, looking angrily into her face. “You’re locking me out, deliberately building walls between us. If I don’t know what the hell I’m fighting, how do I defend you against phantoms and memories I can’t see?”

He buried his head against her ear and whispered fiercely into it. “But understand me well, Imogen Beaumont, even if I don’t know what I’m fighting, even if you won’t trust me with the enemy’s name, I’ll fight off all threats as best as I can. I’m your sword arm against the world for the rest of my life. Do you understand?”

“No,” she whispered, and his arms tightened around her compulsively for a moment.

“It doesn’t require understanding. It is enough that it is so,” he said arrogantly, his breath hot on her neck.

And she couldn’t seem to stop her arm from wrapping around his back and resting her hand on the dimple at the base of his spine even though she knew she couldn’t give him the comfort he needed, that she was the one causing the pain.

He loosened his grip on her slowly as he finally got back control of his frustration and anger, but he didn’t let her go. He drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Now we sleep.”

“You’re being dictatorial again,” she said with a small smile.

He snorted bitterly. “Well, if I’m not to be given the names of the demons unseen, I might as well protect you from the things that I can see. You’ve had an exhausting day and need your rest.”

“As my lord and master says,” she said meekly.

He grunted and closed his eyes. In moments he was asleep.

She snuggled her cheek against the side of his head where it was buried in her hair. She hadn’t told him anything because years of harsh lessons had warned her against trust. Yet she couldn’t stop reliving the thrill she had felt as he had pledged to protect her always. If he spoke true, she’d never again be alone in the dark unable to defend herself.

Strange, she thought drowsily, she believed his pledge.

And that sounded an awful lot like trust to her.

Chapter Eight

Robert winced when he saw that people were beginning to fill the courtyard as the sound of Dagger’s hooves on the compressed earth rang out through the early-morning silence. “So much for sneaking in before dawn,” he murmured softly into Imogen’s ear.

She smiled lazily. In his arms she found nothing to fear at the sounds of the growing crowd. “Apparently you’re not supposed to sneak in on a horse.”

Robert’s laughter rumbled through her. “I’d rather fail at a sneak on a horse when I have miles to cover, than to succeed on my feet.”

“Amen!” Imogen said with a ferventness that made Robert laugh again as he swung down from Dagger’s back.

After giving the openly gossiping crowd a stern look, daring them to comment, he turned and clasped his hands around Imogen’s waist, lifting her to the ground. He felt the by-now-familiar sliver of desire knife through him as he held her close, but with a resigned sigh he forced himself to step away from her.

“Are you ready to face the hordes, Little One?” he murmured softly, and she drew a deep, steadying breath before nodding her head slowly. Robert gave her a reassuring squeeze as he drew her nearer to his side. He turned to face the crowd. A frown wrinkled his brow a little as he watched Gareth push his way to the front.

“We were just arguing over who was going to get the Keep if you two were eaten by wolves,” Gareth said with a broad smile, all of last night’s strange tension now absent, though when he clapped Robert on the back it was a little too hard to be entirely friendly. “So, just where did you two get to?”

Robert didn’t even try to hide the smugness of his smile. “Into the tower.”

Gareth’s eyebrows rose. “What, in the doorless tower our garrison has been laughing so hard about all morning?”

“Not entirely doorless,” Imogen said abstractly.

Gareth cast her a puzzled look, then shrugged his shoulders. “It matters not, so long as you’re home.”

Home? Robert looked over the motley hoard in the dawn light, the Keep’s inhabitants mixing freely with his knights, and felt strangely as if the missing part of a puzzle had fallen into place. Home.

There was an unexpected satisfaction to be found in that realization, but his smile of pleasure soon changed to a frown of consternation as he noticed that his knights scarcely wasted a glance at him. No, they were all too busy gawking at the Lady of the Keep for the first time.

The plain jealousy that flared, fierce and intense, staggered him. His hand flexed into a fist as he fought the urge to snatch Imogen away from them and barricade her in the tower. With him.

“Lady Imogen’s tired,” he said tersely, and began hustling her through the crowd, trying to escape before he did something to embarrass them both. He ignored the startled look on her face. He might explain it to her later, if he could ever find the words to explain the emotions roiling inside him. Perhaps. All that mattered now was removing her from the other men’s gaze. Once he reached their chamber, he slammed the door loudly behind him and leaned on it with relief. Of course, now he would have to face his very irate wife, and he wasn’t at all surprised to hear the indignation in her voice.

“Just what was that all about?”

He moved to the fire and started stoking it