Return of the Rogue Read Online Free PDF

Cavan is your husband, you his wife, and that will not change. You will either make the most of it or suffer the arrangement.”
    “You speak the truth, and I appreciate that and will give your advice consideration.”
    “Then at least it will give you a chance at some happiness,” Addie said with a smile.
    “I never considered happiness.”
    “What did you consider?” her mother-in-law asked.
    “Being safe,” she whispered too low for anyone to hear.
     
    Honora sat alone in Cavan’s bedchamber, having snuck away from the festivities when no one was paying attention to her, but then, few did pay her heed. She had always remained obscured, in the background, too fearful or distrustful to stand up for herself. She had grown accustomed to not being seen or heard, and actually preferred it. Her stepfather never questioned her solitary walks on the moor or her retreat to her corner of their small cottage where she could be relatively safe and free in her own thoughts.
    She would have that no more, not with a husband. She was answerable to him, and it appeared that her stepfather intended to see that she remained a dutiful wife. She would never be free, though she had hoped her marriage to Artair would have granted her some sense of freedom. He’d seemed willing enough to allow her it when they talked. He had not voiced any objection to her request for solitary time once wed and had encouraged her to pursue her interests; after, of course, she had attended to her duties.
    Honora knew nothing of what Cavan expected of her, and she wasn’t in a hurry to find out. She also wasn’t in a hurry to consummate their vows, but that was another choice that wasn’t hers. Her life had been filled with choices that weren’t hers, and she’d managed to survive. She would survive this night and all the nights to follow.
    She decided to prepare for bed and wait on her husband’s return, as was expected of a dutiful wife.She slipped into a pale blue night shift, the wool so soft that it felt as if it whispered against her skin. It fell to her ankles. The sleeves skimmed her wrists and the neckline scooped so low that it barely covered her breasts. She combed her long black hair, took some dried lavender leaves from the bowl on the stand near the bed and crushed them between her fingers, and after discarding the remnants, ran her fingers through her hair.
    She would look presentable and smell sweet for her husband and hope for the best.
    After several hours passed with no sign of Cavan, she crawled into bed on a yawn and snuggled beneath the green wool coverlet. Soon the bed linens took on her body heat and the steady warmth and comfort of the soft bedding lolled her off to sleep.
    A strong pop and crackle of a log in the hearth woke her with a start. She sat up, realizing she was alone in the bed, and searched the room. Still, there was no sign of her husband. She wondered if she should see what kept him, but then, was it her place to question his absence from their bedchamber? And didn’t she truly prefer him to remain as absent as long as possible?
    She snuggled once again beneath the blanket, thinking Cavan would arrive any moment and she must be ready to receive him. Time passed without his arrival and sleep once again claimed her.
    The next time she woke for no apparent reason at all, though perhaps something had alerted her to a change in the room. She knew she was not alone; she felt his presence. It was strong, overpowering, asif there wasn’t room enough for anyone but him. She lay silent, trying not to tremble when his shadow loomed large, like a bird of prey, over the ceiling.
    She shut her eyes tight, fearing he would swoop down and descend on her like a mighty bird on the hunt, and after several anxious moments passed and nothing happened, she slowly opened her eyes to have a peek.
    No shadow hovered over her, and she briefly wondered if she had dreamed it all, until she once again felt his presence. He was in the