Harper Allen - Lone Rider Bodyguard

“That’s true.” A second soft bubble of laughter rose up in her. With exaggerated deliberation, she turned away, reaching for the bowl of eggs as she slid the pan on the burner.

“Suze?”

At the unexpectedly tentative note in his voice her pose of unconcern fled. Glancing quickly at him, she saw that he’d paused in the doorway. His gaze met hers, the humor that had lit his eyes only a moment ago no longer in evidence.

“Were you very much in love with him?” he asked softly. Even as the words left his lips he frowned impatiently. “Sorry, stupid question. Of course you were—the man was your husband, for God’s sake.” He turned toward the hall, but before he could take a second step, Susannah spoke, her own tone as low as his had been.

“Yes, Frank Barrett was my husband. And twelve hours after I became his wife I was a widow.”

Blindly she extracted an egg from the bowl, finding its cool, spherical surface somehow comforting.

“He was killed the morning after our wedding night, while I was out walking along the beach wondering if there was any way I could undo the mistake I’d made in marrying him.”

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