Page 27 of Love Me Forever

She wondered occasionally what he looked like before his face had suffered such a horrendous assault. His looks mattered little to her. Her husband had been a handsome man and she had to admit she had been drawn to his stunning features; perhaps that was what had blinded her to his true character.

Royce’s face was so badly distorted that she could barely make out normal features. Because of that she concentrated on the man within, not the horrendous face that had brought a scream to her lips when she had first looked upon him.

“Brianna? Are you all right?” His concerned voice roused her from her musings.

“Lost in thought.”

“Share the thought with me.”

She rested back against the pillows and did not think twice about sharing her thoughts, for she trusted Royce to understand. “I thought of your face compared to my husband’s.”

He felt no insult, and he did want to know more about her marriage.

‘Tell me,” he said beside her on the bed.

“He was a handsome man.”

Royce watched the way she drew the covers up around her. She looked for protection, not warmth.

“I cannot say that I am a handsome man,” he said with a grin, hoping to ease the deep frown that creased her face.

Her bright blue eyes grew wide. “Nay, you are handsome in ways my husband could never have been. And I was a foolish young woman thinking myself in love. He used his false charm to capture my naive heart but never truly loved me.”

Royce listened: he wanted to hear it all, every word, every emotion, every hurt she had suffered. And he wanted to make certain she would never suffer again.

“Arran was only interested in me because of my brother being laird of our clan. With marriage to me he would secure his importance and a keep to look after.”

She continued on in a rush, a need for her to tell him and a need for her to admit the truth. “He had dreams of the clan gaining power and he gaining status. I learned quickly that I meant very little to him, and what he wanted most from me, I failed to give him. He found constant fault with me and belittled me, telling me how worthless I was. Of course, in front of everyone else he was a loving husband.”

She took a much needed breath and realized how she had gone on without thinking. “You do not wish to hear this.”

“Aye, that I do,” he insisted, or he needed to hear it as much as she needed to talk of it. He reached beneath the blanket and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Sometimes I think you are a dream.”

“You are telling me that I am too good to be true?” He winked at her with his good eye distorting his features even more.

She smiled and slipped her hand from beneath the blankets to lay a gentle hand to his cheek. “I think you so very handsome.”

His heart thumped in his chest and his blood raced, flushing his face, a most uncommon reaction for a warrior.

“You are blind,” he said, laying his hand over hers.

“Nay, for the first time in many years my eyes are finally open and I see clearly. And it is clear to me that you are handsome.”

He attempted to protest.

“Nay,” she said firmly, “you cannot order me to feel differently about you.”

Feel.

She had said feel. Did she feel for him? Or was it simply pity?

“Besides,” she continued, “you think me beautiful and I think you handsome—that makes us a fine pair.”

Pair?

Did she think them a pair? A pair was a match, two of a kind. A pair could not be separated.