Page 103 of Claim to Fame

Ethan shook his head in disbelief. “I’m being ambushed.”

Tessa scooted closer to him. “You were so happy these last few weeks. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that. It was nice.”

He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and tugging her into his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m fine, T.”

“You could be better than fine. Youwerebetter than fine.” She didn’t say the last part, but she didn’t need to. He heard it anyway.

With Hannah.

You were happy with Hannah.

And you fucked it up.

“Now you’re so…” Tessa trailed off.

“What?”

“Angry.”

The word knocked the wind out of him, all his bluster and indignation dying. She was right. He was angry. He was fucking furious. But only with himself.

“I was protecting you,” he repeated lamely.

“I’d rather you were happy,” Tessa said.

“We all would,” Gavin added.

Tessa squeezed his arm. “Just think about it, okay?”

He nodded, the crushing weight of exhaustion making his limbs heavy and slow. “Sure, kid. I’ll think about it.”

FromThe Lady’s Knightsby A K Wild, narrated by Slade Hardcastle

The night air was cold as it whipped around Sir Llewellyn, the ends of his black cloak flying out around him on the ramparts. In the distance, his men had lit a bonfire, their raucous laughter carrying on the wind through the trees circling their camp.

Peace.

Sir Llewellyn had not known a time of peace in all his many years as a knight of the realm. He should have been celebrating with his men, toasting to their victory and a future without war. The treaty signed that morning would ensure a generation of prosperity. Serenity.

But Sir Llewellyn felt anything but serene. His insides were twisted and knotted, tormented. Peace meant Lord Havenbrook would have no need to travel quite so often, to entrust his wife to his faithful knight’s care. But she could be safe, now, the threat of the warring families neutralized, not through Sir Llewellyn’s care and military might, but with a stroke of her husband’s pen. He wanted to rejoice in a peace brokered without any more bloodshed, but when peace came at such a great personal cost… Instead, he mourned.

“Do you know what I have often wished?”

Sir Llewellyn spun around to find he was no longer alone. “My lord,” he said, dipping his head in deference.

“Nights when I could not sleep, I would climb these ramparts and look out into the darkness. And I would pray.”

“We have all prayed for peace,” Sir Llewellyn said.

“Not for peace.” Lord Havenbrook shot him a sidelong glance before turning his attention back to the distant glow of the bonfire flickering through the trees. “I would pray that when I woke, you would be gone.”

“My lord?”

“Both of you.”

Sir Llewellyn’s breath burned in his lungs, shock stealing his words. “My lord—”

“What is it that has kept you here, Sir?”

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