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you both again."
He was out the door before Kenna could even open her mouth to return the sentiment.
"Well, that was certainly odd." Callie said as she rested her hands on her hips at his hasty departure. "I
don't think I've
ever seen Simon so stiff and guarded. He's normally much friendlier. I can't imagine what has gotten into
him."
Kenna barely heard the words. There was something strange here. Somethingvery strange.
Stryder acted as if he didn't know her, and Simon quoted almost verbatim an anecdote that Stryder had
once written to her....
Stryder...
Simon...
A bad feeling settled over her.
Nay, surely not.
Her chest tight with apprehension, she grabbed her letters and excused herself from Callie, then went
below to find one of
the two men who had her perplexed.
It was Stryder she sought first. She found him alone in the stable, readying his horse for a ride.
"My lord?"
He paused and turned to face her. She had the distinct feeling that he was biting his tongue to keep from
cursing.
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Once again she was struck by the handsomeness of his features, by the way his black hair curled so
becomingly around
his face and shoulders.
Stryder of Blackmoor was a man to make any woman weak in the knees. Yet he didn't make her warm
the way Simon had.
"My lady." he greeted her cooly. Dispassionately.
And it was then she knew the truth.
This wasn't the same man who had written to her. That man had spilled out his heart and soul to her. He
had been open and funny. Warm and enchanting.
The man before her was too guarded and closed to her. She had been tricked, she knew it.
Now she wanted proof before she let loose her wrath on them.
So she handed Stryder her letters. "Are you the man who wrote these to me?"
He turned them over and looked at the Blackmoor seal. "They bear my mark."
"Aye, they do indeed."
He frowned as he handed them back to her. "Then they are from me."
"But you didn't write them."
He moved away.
"Please," she begged, taking his arm to stop him. "I must know."
"Why?"
"Because these are tender words," she said, holding the letters up to him. "Poetic words. Who would
dare write me such
while signing your name to them? Was this some cruel game you played?"
His eyes darkened, as if her accusation greatly offended him. "Nay, lady. I would never play with
another in such a manner.
I may have committed many crimes in my life, but mockery has never been one of them."
She pulled the top letter off and removed the red ribbon. "Read this and tell me what you see."
A tic started in his jaw. "I can't read that."
"Why not?"
"Because I can't read. I never learned."
All the breath left her lungs at that. Stunned, she could do nothing but stare.
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She'd wanted the truth and now she had it. Stryder was illiterate.
"Then who wrote this to me?"
"I did."
Chapter 3
Kenna turned to find Simon standing just behind her. His blue eyes were dark and stormy.
"Youwrote to me as Stryder?" she asked.
He glanced to Stryder, then locked gazes with her." Aye."
Pain and disbelief washed over her. Oh, she was such a fool! How could she have ever thought that a
man as handsome, wealthy and well-famed as Stryder would ever settle for a plain woman such as she?
And yet Simon had made her believe. He had fed her mind full of fallacies and lies.
How could he?
"I see."
Her throat tight, she returned the ribbon to the letter, then handed the stack over to Simon.
"I hope the two of you have a good laugh over this. I'm sorry I disturbed you."
He captured her arm as she started past him. "Kenna, please. I..."
She waited for him to finish.
Instead, he just stared at her with his jaw flexed, his eyes snapping, as if he were debating with himself.
"You what?" she asked.
His gaze softened. "I never meant to hurt you."
"Then what did you mean by sending me those letters, knowing I thought they came from Stryder?"
Stryder promptly excused himself and headed for the stable's opening.
Alone now, Kenna stared up at Simon, whose eyes held a deep, inner torment. "I would never hurt
you," he murmured.
She sensed his heartfelt sincerity, not that it mattered. What he had done had been wrong. Inexcusable.
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And for what?
For sport?
For cruelty?
"But you did hurt me, Simon. You have embarrassed me and made me feel "
He stopped her words with a hot, demanding kiss.
Kenna was shocked by his actions.
No man had ever dared such before. None. Her father would have had the heart of any man who dared
handle her in such
a fashion, and yet she found Simon's bold possession scintillating and wonderfully exciting.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled the warm, rich scent of him and moaned at his taste, at the sensation of his
hot, firm lips on
hers, of his tongue gently searching her mouth.
She'd lain awake for hours at night imagining what it would be like to kiss the author of her letters.
Only then she had imagined Stryder.
But it was Simon who had written them. Simon who had touched her heart and made her feel beautiful
and needed.
She pulled back and looked up at him.
"I won't apologize for writing to you," he whispered. "I'm only sorry that you were embarrassed."
Her fury snapped at that. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't Stryder?"
"Would you have written to me if I had?"
"Of course," she said emphatically.
She saw the raw doubt in his eyes, and it made her ache in sympathy. How could he doubt her,
especially after what he
had done?
'Truly?'' he asked. "Tell me, wasn't half the appeal of me the fact that you thought I was an earl and not
some landless
knight? I'm not a fool, Kenna. I learned long ago that whenever I'm with Stryder, Sin or Draven, women
look past me
to them. Because I hold no titles or land, I'm practically invisible. My only purpose has been to help
women land titled husbands while I am seen as nothing more than a friend to them."
He stared at her, his gaze probing as if he could see the answer he needed in her eyes. "Had you known
it was plain and
simple Simon you were writing to, would you have continued to do so, or would you have written me a
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letter telling me
what good friends we are and then set your gaze to another?"
Kenna opened her mouth, then paused.
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