Page 144 of Bride of Fire
He caught her by the shoulder and whipped her around toward him. Her expression was full of fire and determination.
“What?” she snarled.
Her anger disappeared when she saw the genuine concern in his eyes.
“Do as I say,” he pleaded, “I’m beggin’ ye.”
“Damn it, Morgan, I can do this,” she told him. “I can fight.”
“Aye, ye can,” he admitted, “better than most o’ my men. But I need to know ye’re safe, because…”
He looked into her spark-filled green eyes, burning with a passion for justice. And honor. And life.
And he told her the truth.
“Because I love ye.”
Jenefer thought there was nothing he could say that alter her from her course.
She was wrong.
His declaration—fierce and sweet—caught her completely offguard.
She’d been prepared to defend her skills. It was something she did all the time. Men seldom believed a mere lass could hold her own in battle.
But Morgan wasn’t questioning her abilities. He’d just admitted she was an accomplished warrior.
Instead, he’d attacked her with something she’d never had to defend against before.
Love.
Granted, it was a love that could never be. A love full of heartache. A love doomed by honor and circumstance.
But it was a love that was pure and true.
Her throat closed. Her vision blurred with tears. Her heart melted as she was overcome by her own deep, doomed feelings for him.
She wished she could freeze time and let his words wash over her, bathe in the waters of his affection, relish the tender moment they shared.
But she knew it was useless to water a tree that would never bear fruit.
Besides, there was no time for selfish emotions.
This was war.
Right now, she had to consider what was best for the clan. If there was any hope of surviving this attack, Morgan needed her skills, her experience in battle, and her knowledge of the Borders.
She hated to waste precious time arguing, especially when what she truly longed to do was return his words of affection. But she had to convince him she could be of more help atop the wall than locked in the great hall with dozens of helpless…
She knitted her brows.
Helpless? They weren’t helpless. Every one of those Highland lasses had faced hardship with a backbone of iron.
Bethac. Cicilia. Feiyan.
How could she have forgotten Feiyan?
They could help defend Creagor.
