Chapters (38)
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- About the Author
- Also by Donna Fletcher
- Also by Donna Fletcher
A pain so sharp struck her that she thought she’d been stabbed in the heart. There was no denying it, no matter how much she tried. She had fallen in love with Tarass. How that had happened, she had no idea, but she could no longer allow herself to deny it. And finally realizing that made her also realize that this marriage she had agreed to was a mistake.
She was jolted out of her thoughts when the cleric began the ceremony.
She had to stop this, but how? How did she tell Lord Polwarth she didn’t want to wed him?
The door flew open, banging violently against the wall, causing everyone to turn and see a gust of swirling wind and snow sweep in along with a man, the hood of his fur-lined cloak covering half of his face. He didn’t hesitate to toss the hood back.
Tarass stood there a moment, still as a statue, his eyes aglow with fire and his stance one of a warrior ready to attack. His eyes latched onto Snow and strong strides brought him further into the Great Hall. Twelve of his warriors suddenly filed in and followed behind him, dividing into two groups of six that flanked him as he strode forward.
“Snow belongs to me,” Tarass shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.
Shock to hear Tarass’s voice and hear him claim she belonged to him stunned Snow silent. She couldn’t believe he was there. Couldn’t believe he demanded that she belonged to him. And yet, her heart swelled with a sense of joy. She was relieved when she felt Willow take her hand and squeeze it, letting her know she was there beside her.
Polwarth spoke up. “Snow does not belong to you, Lord Tarass, she is about to become my wife.”
To the shock of everyone, Thaw went running to Tarass, yapping all the way, then stopped in front of him, and turned to bark at Lord Polwarth.
“Wise choice, Thaw,” Tarass praised the pup, then called out, “You’re wrong, Polwarth. Snow will not wed you, she belongs to me. She became mine not only on the night we spent together in the cottage in the woods when I rescued her, but the night we slept together in my guest bedchamber,” Tarass said to the astounding shock of all around him.
“You never mentioned that,” James said, when he found his voice.
“You lie,” Polwarth accused.
“Watch who you call a liar, Polwarth,” Tarass warned, his hand going to the hilt of his sword at his waist.
“You never mentioned this before and you expect to be believed now?” Polwarth demanded. “And don’t think to have Snow confirm or deny this. It is inconceivable that you would tarnish her reputation this way.”
“I tarnish nothing. I keep what is mine and Snow is mine,” Tarass said, challenging the man.
“Prove it,” Polwarth said, returning the challenge.