She had always
found success in wielding words as weapons, and even now, scores of
explanations scuttled through her brain, a hundred excuses, and a thousand
denials. But in the face of Konnar’s unyielding stance and the fact that he had
not slashed her throat, she opted to heed his warning. So she remained
shivering on the ground as the skies turned from gray white to dusky gray,
watching Konnar standing as if turned to stone, and she would wait, neither
moving nor speaking.
With distant
eyes, hiding the working of his mind, he appeared prepared to tower over her
indefinitely. Amber could not guess his thoughts. He was, after all, a
stranger, though an intimate one ... yea ... tall and broad and handsome. She
had spied in him a measure of promise for tenderness, and a willingness to find
redemption from his violent past. He possessed the potential to protect and to
love, which was evident in his pain over the women who had left his life. But
what else did she know of him? That he was too dangerous, too volatile and that
he had seemed tempted to kill her? That in spite of the gray-green bliss she
found in his eyes, or the wonders he wrought upon her flesh with his hands and
mouth, he was still a Viking, her enemy?
It defied
logic, common sense, and even her history of listening to troubles of others.
It defied even lucid thinking. And yet ...
I was so
near to loving him. I would have loved him. And dearly so, for sure. There had not
come a worse time to discover it, nor a more disastrous time or more
heartbreaking, for there was nothing to be done about it ... now, nor later,
nor ever. It was not to be. He had
killed it.
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