The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) by Jayne Castel Page A

The woman had been cringing
in terror and all he could think about was her naked breast. Frankly, he
sickened himself.
    Although Saewara was a small woman, and easy to carry, it was
a long, tiring journey through the woods back to camp. If anything, the rain
had grown heavier, and by the time they spotted the glow of the tents through
the trees, Annan felt as if there was not a part of him that was not soaked
through.
    Ignoring Penda’s servant, who strode out to meet them, Annan
carried Saewara to his own tent. He felt the man’s gaze track him across the
clearing but left Saba to explain what had happened.
    Inside Annan’s tent, a fire still burned. The air was warm and
dry.
    “Bring us some ale to warm,” Annan instructed one of the
warriors, “and some more wood for the fire.”
    He sighed in relief when Saewara slid off his shoulders onto
the ground before he straightened his aching back.
    “I’m sorry if I was heavy, Milord,” Saewara murmured from
behind him, her voice abashed. “You should have let me walk.”
    “You weren’t heavy.” Annan shook his head and gave a rueful
smile. “I’m just getting old, it seems.”
    A warrior brought a jug of ale, which Annan put to warm over
the fire. Annan then sent him out to retrieve Saewara’s clothes from her tent.
Almost immediately, their wet clothes started to steam. They would both need to
change into dry clothes but, for the moment, they needed to warm themselves,
from the inside out.
    “Here.” Annan passed Saewara a mug of hot ale. “This will warm
you.”
    Saewara nodded and took the mug wordlessly, wrapping her
fingers around it. She sat on a stool in front of the fire pit, still swathed
in Annan’s cloak; although it had slipped down on one shoulder, revealing the
thin linen tunic beneath. Annan took a deep draught of warm ale, feeling it
burn into his belly. A moment later, his gaze returned to Saewara.
    “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?” he asked.
    Saewara gave him a tight smile in return. “Nothing that can’t
be fixed.”
    Annan took another gulp of ale before stepping up to Saewara.
He then hunkered down so that their gazes were eye level.  
    “You have a huge welt on your forehead. How did you get it?
Let me have a look.”
    “Coenwal head-butted me,” Saewara replied, wincing as Annan
gently probed the inflamed skin with his fingertips.
    “Coenwal, is that the bastard’s name?”
    Saewara nodded.
    “You’re right, no lasting damage,” he finished checking her
forehead.
    “It all happened so quickly,” Saewara replied, the words
rushing out as if a dam had just burst inside her. “I woke up and they were
inside the tent. Oswyn tried to raise the alarm but they cut her down.”
    Tears filled her eyes then, and she hurriedly brushed them
away. “I tried to shout but they were too fast. I was sure they were going to
kill me.”
    “You’re a brave woman, Saewara,” Annan replied gently. “I saw
how you fought that outlaw.”
    Suddenly, Annan was aware of how close they were. His face was
just inches from hers, and the warmth of the fire enveloped them. Saewara had
closed her eyes; her lashes were long and dark against her pale skin. Her
cheeks were flushed from the ale, and Annan could also feel his senses
heightened. His gaze then travelled down Saewara’s face, observing her delicate
features and her full, sensual lips. Then, suddenly, his breath stilled in his
chest.
    The cloak shrouding her, had slipped open.
    Her breast, in its soft glory, was visible. Annan closed his
eyes. A strange ache took up residence in his chest. He longed to reach out and
touch her. It would be easy to lower his lips to hers and kiss that soft mouth.
    What is wrong with you?
    Annan swiftly rose to his feet and took a rapid step back.
“Saewara, cover yourself up,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse, turning so
that she would have a moment of privacy; so she would not see his face.
    Saewara made a soft sound of mortification as she