Surrender to an Irish Warrior. Michelle Willingham

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      He must have thought she was reaching out to him, wanting him in the way a woman desired a man. That wasn’t true at all. Her cheeks flushed red. But even if it were, he’d treated her like discarded goods, a woman contaminated.

      It cut through her, reaching down to the pain she’d tucked away, flaring the anger back. It wasn’t my fault. I’m not to blame for it.

      She knew that, in her heart, but she forced her emotions back, burying them deep. Don’t think of it. She clenched the reins of her horse, fighting back tears that she refused to shed. Although Trahern had saved her life, she suspected he viewed her as a burden.

      And why? Had she ever demanded anything of him? The more she thought of it, the more resentful she grew. He treated her like a younger sister or a child he felt responsible for. But she was a grown woman, more than capable of surviving on her own. She didn’t need Trahern.

      Morren closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong. She would be no man’s inconvenience, nor would she let her fear transform her into a shadow. She had to think of Jilleen.