Rowan awoke to the cold edge of a knife against his throat.
The moonlight that had caressed Bronwyn’s flesh while they made love was gone, the sky grayed. ’Twas before the dawn, he guessed, and he was reassured that his lady still slept safely beside him.
For the moment.
He tried to feign sleep while he assessed the situation. His breathing must have changed, though, for the blade bit deeper.
“I will kill you, for taking what should be mine,” his assailant muttered in his ear.
Rowan gasped as the knife bit into his flesh. Bronwyn stirred and he tried to warn her, but to no avail. Her eyes flew open, her expression changing to astonishment as she looked from the knife to Rowan’s attacker.
“Matthew! What are you doing?”
She might have intervened, but Matthew stepped back, hauling Rowa
