Chapter Nine #3
Hesitantly, Morgan nodded, casting Bose a lingering glance. “I do not understand, Bose. Why would she…?”
“B-Because I stammer,” Summer suddenly turned away from the tree trunk, her face flushed with anger as well as humiliation. “She said I was impaired and said that Sir B-Bose was only interested in me out of p-pity.”
It had taken a good deal of effort to spit out that lengthy sentence and Morgan grew weary simply listening to her. But he also experienced a measure of shock with the revelation of her affliction; Bose had made no mention of the fact and, naturally, Morgan was surprised.
“You know that’s not true,” Bose said quietly. “I have absolutely no pity for you whatsoever.”
Her sobbing slowed as she continued to wipe at her face with the back of her hand. After a moment, she snorted ironically. “Nay, you surely do not. I have never met anyone who p-p-possessed less compassion for my flaw.”
Bose held up a correcting finger. “Ah, I said I did not pity you. But most certainly I hold a good deal of compassion. You speak of two separate emotions.”
“They are the same.”
“They are not by my definition. Pity means charity, and in my opinion you are the last person in the world to warrant charity. But compassion means tenderness and understanding, two qualities which I would hope to possess. Especially where they pertain to you.”
Sobbing lessened, Summer stared at him with emotion brimming in her golden eyes.
Morgan, his gaze lingering on the beautiful young woman, suddenly felt as if he were intruding on a tender moment.
As if abruptly remembering he had been asked to leave, he turned on his heel when a soft voice halted him.
“Sir Morgan,” Summer’s voice was soft, the extreme stuttering fading as she calmed. “Thank you for your kind escort. I am sorry we’ve not had a chance to become b-better acquainted.”
Morgan turned to the lady, casting Bose a long glance as he replied. “A feat that will be made impossible by my liege’s meddlesome presence, I imagine. But fear not, my lady; I suspect we will have further opportunity in the future.”
Bose actually managed a weak grin. “Think not to steal her from me, you aging rogue. I shall fight you to the death.”
Morgan cocked an eyebrow, knowing he was jesting but suspecting it was the truth all the same. “I know,” he said, turning away from the two of them. “I saw what you did to Breck Kerry.”
Bose snorted with weak humor, returning his attention to Summer as his knight strolled away. His smile faded as he gazed into her pale face, eyes red-rimmed and a catch in her breathing. Moving closer, he nearly blotted out the sun as he hovered over her.
“I am terribly sorry about Margot,” he said softly, struggling for words. “She hates me so much that, unfortunately, you have fallen within the scope of her venom. I can never apologize enough for the insults she has dealt to you this day, but know that just the same I will endeavor to try.”
Summer shook her head, wiping the last of her tears away. Leaning against the tree trunk, Bose’s massive body was disturbingly close as her heart began to race again with excitement. He had that effect on her.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she replied, her voice nearly a whisper. “B-But I must say, you seemed quite willing to tolerate her insolence.”
His eyebrows briefly drew together. “I would not exactly call my attitude toward Margot tolerant.”
Summer stared at his mouth when he spoke, enjoying the odd, wonderful shape to his lips. “I gathered from her words that she is your wife’s mother. If you do not tolerate her, then why do you allow her within your p-presence?”
He lifted a resigned eyebrow. “As much as I am loathe to admit the fact, she is a member of my house. I left her at Ravendark three days ago, but she followed me to Chaldon because…,” he suddenly paused, gazing into her eyes as he broached the forbidden subject of Lora’s death.
“Because yesterday was the fourth anniversary of my wife’s death.
Margot was angry because I opted not to spend my time bemoaning my loss, instead, choosing to attend Lance’s tournament.
Even though I left her at my keep, she nonetheless pursued me and is determined to see that I grieve properly. ”
Summer watched his expression as he spoke, the anguish, and was deeply moved. Reaching up, she gently stroked a stubbled cheek; it was a bold move, but she simply could not help herself. It was as if he needed to be comforted.
“W-What was her name?”
His black eyes glittered like the crisp night sky; literally, she could see the stars within. “Who?”
“Your wife.”
His gaze never left her beautiful face. “Lora.”
She smiled faintly, still touching his scratchy skin. “A very p-pretty name,” she whispered. “What was she like?”
He thought a moment, recollecting his wife without the pain and sorrow that usually accompanied such thoughts. “She was about your size with her mother’s pale blue eyes. And she possessed a head full of wavy auburn hair, a mane she complained over incessantly.”
Summer’s smile broadened. “Why did she lament her hair?”
The corner of his mouth tugged, his heart leaping wildly against his ribs as she touched the curving edge. “Because she claimed it had a life of its own and she could not control it. Once she threatened to cut it all off and probably would have had I not stopped her.”
Summer laughed softly, running her finger along his lower lip in her increasing exploration of his face. “I know how she feels. There are days when I would shave my head as well.”
In spite of the decidedly erotic gesture that nearly drove him to his knees, he managed to smile.
“God’s Beard, don’t do that,” he breathed, not knowing if he was referring to her beautiful hair or her sensual touch.
As he braced his enormous arms on either side of her slender, luscious body, Summer continued to toy with his cleft chin and Bose was gazing so intently into her porcelain features that he failed to remember the course of their conversation.
“What else?” she asked.
He stared dreamily at her a moment before abruptly responding, as if he had only just understood her words. “What do you mean?”
“About Lora.”
“Oh,” he blinked, struggling to focus. “Well, she had freckled cheeks and a nose that wriggled when she spoke. And she had a silly giggle that could veer out of control quite rapidly.”