All Chapters of Wed to a Wicked Warrior: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Fann rode in silence behind the row of women on horseback, grateful to Claire for finding the company to keep Eleanor insulated from those who might reveal the truth to her but also cursing her for having the women always around. The morning after Beatrice had made her presence known, all four of Claire’s sisters had descended on them. Along with their throngs of children! Eleanor had been caught up in the happy chaos of it all ever since. He loved to see her smile and hear her laughter. He had a feeling there had been very little of that in the last eight years of her life. Here she woke every morning with a smile and it rarely left her lips. On top of going riding at least three times a day, there had been copious quantities of daisy chains and picnics. Eleanor had even played at swords with the wee lads! The children all adored her. In the evenings there were games of checkers or readings in the Duchess’s private solar where her husband’s guests were not permitted to go. By the t

Eleanor stood back against the bookshelves and watched the chaos in the room. Men came and went, reporting to the Count, who sat in a large chair with Annora on his lap. He was older than Eleanor had expected, his grey hair showing only a touch of the blond tones that his youngest daughter had. Nannies carried the sleeping children off to the nursery, the older children pounced on the trays of tarts and pastries that had been brought up. A healer was in attendance with a calming brew for Honora, who apparently had a habit of fainting when she was confined in a small room for too long. The other women sat on the sofa’s fanning themselves until maids came to see them to their rooms. Fann exchanged words with some of the guards and teased the older lads. He seemed to be far more relaxed than the other men in the room and even laughed a little now and then. Every time he looked in her direction Eleanor blushed and looked at the floor, the memory of the liberties she had taken was too shar

Fann’s lips brushed the skin of her neck as he spoke. His breath cooling the warm wetness of his kisses. She took a deep breath and found the air filled with his intoxicating scent. Swaying slightly she reached up reflexively to grab his arm. Fann seemed to take that as an indication of agreement and gathered her close, lifting his head and closing his lips over hers. Shivers of excitement coursed through her and an ache began between her legs. Fann was breathing heavily when he pulled his mouth away. His eyes devoured her face, then suddenly, he was pulling his shirt over his head. Eleanor could only stare open mouthed at his chest. He took her hand and pressed it to the center of his dark thatch of hair. “Touch me Leannan. Take your fill. I am the first man you have touched this way, am I no?”“Yes.”“Then touch me. Feel me. Taste me. There is nothing too wicked. No touch I will deny you.” Her breath seemed trapped in her chest as she brought her other hand up to join the first. She

Eleanor was disappointed to wake alone the next morning. The sun was streaming in the window. The bath had been emptied and the breakfast tray was waiting. She was dressed and sitting down to eat before she realized what was missing. There was no sound of children playing.Curious, she took her toast and honey to the window. It looked like a beautiful day. There was a long line of carriages being readied and her heart sank. Her new friends would be leaving today. Her appetite gone, Eleanor was about to turn away from the window when she caught sight of Beck and Deanhman being saddled.Were she and Fann leaving today too? She didn’t know how she felt about that. Certainly, she wasn’t thrilled that he had made the decision without consulting her.“Oh good, you’re up.” Fann strode over to her and pulled her into an embrace. “The Duke was found dead this morning. Floating in the moat with an arrow in his back. It was not the same type of arrow that was in Annora’s horse so the Count deci

Tired from reading in the Count’s magnificent library, Eleanor had retired to her room and stood looking out the window and the lush fields. Was it green like this in Scotia? She could not remember. How long ago had she lost the images of MacDonald lands? Would she even recognize the keep? What did her sister look like now? Was she wed? Had her mother’s hair turned to grey? Would she hear the same birds singing in the north? Some of the books she’d read today had drawings of such colourful and fantastic-looking animals. Some of them were hard to believe, but one of the Count’s guests insisted he had seen the animal with his own eyes. “The giraffe is a gentle giant,” the man had insisted. “Its long neck allows it to eat from the treetops and its long legs help it run fast since it does not have any means to defend itself.” He had called that evolution. There was so much she wanted to learn about. But the time to leave would be drawing near. The Count had arrived home nearly a week ago,