Dreagan is Scotland," Asher said. "The land draws you in a way you can no' begin to understand. You feel the majesty and magic of the ancient land. From the tallest mountain to the lowest valley, in the leaves of the trees and in the currents of the streams, you feel an overwhelming and unshakable need to want to be a part of such a place. To want to belong.It doesn't confine you. Instead, it cradles you, offering its beauty and solitude for those who answer its call. It's wild and free. It's fierce and unbreakable. It's home.
He set his whisky tumbler on the table, but kept his fingers around it. "What do you see in my eyes?"..."Tell me, lass," he urged softly.She suddenly understood the term 'old soul,' because one sat before her now. And, as if opening a book, she caught a glimpse of Asher. The words then tumbled out of her mouth. "Endlessness. Sorrow. Agony. Distress. Rage.
She looked Con up and down. ... "I went to do your stupid ass a favor. Next time I'll decline." She started to turn away when his hand wrapped around her arm to hold her. Rhi looked down at his fingers, then at his face. "I doona trust you." "You never have," she responded coolly. "This is nothing new." He yanked her close so that their faces were inches apart. "If you betray us, there's nowhere you can hid where I won't find you. And kill you." She smiled, briefly debating putting her lips to his and seeing his reaction. Right before she teleported away, she said, "Kiss my grits.
She leaned her uninjured shoulder against his plump, furry behind and shoved while she bitched to herself, "Four years at the military academy, two years at Kansas State University, survival camp in the swamps of Alabama, more schooling in Florida, and then torture endurance training with the Mossad and all so I could heave a bear's ass into a helicopter. Unfreaking real.
Grace was breathing heavily when she crested a hill that was a lot steeper than she had originally though. She stood looking over the land even as a cold breeze blew past her. She wrapped her arms around herself. Though she had traveled extensively all over Europe, she continued to set her stories in Scotland. Her father used to laugh about it, telling her that there must be something in Scotland drawing her to the land. She used to roll her eyes at his teasing. Now she wondered if he hadn't been right.
Grace flattened her palm on his chest. "I've not been writing it correctly." "Writing what, exactly?" "Passion. I forgot what it was," she whispered. "I went off what I saw in movies or read, but I haven't...experienced...it in many years." He didn't like thinking about other men being with her, but they were in the past. Where they would remain. "Were they no' good lovers?" "They were all right, but without passion, it all feels...empty." Arian tightened his arm around her before he rolled her onto her back so he could look into her face. "I'll be happy to show you several times a day.
All I know is that I like how I feel when I'm with you. I love how protective you are and that you aren't afraid to say you're sorry. I like how you touch me and kiss me. I like how you hold me, but more than anything, I like the possibilities that are before us.""We're in the middle of a war," he warned. She shrugged and ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to clasp around his neck. "Every couple has their own issues to get through.
Seeing that glorious body and to-die-for face only made her crave him more. Then he had kissed her. And what a kiss! It was a kiss like none other. There was fire and a hunger that was both savage as well as tender. At first. Then the fire had come. The kiss had charred her, searing her from the inside out. Each touch of his tongue, each time those lips of his moved over here, had been the most incredible feeling in the world.
Arian paced the cavern in his mountain in agitation and a wee bit of anxiety. He was shaking off the dragon sleep from the past six hundred years. Not only had it been six centuries since he had been in human form, but there was a war the Dragon Kings were involved in.Con and the others were waiting for him to join in the war. Every King had been woken to take part. After all the wars they had been involved in, Arian wasn’t happy to be woken to join another.Because of Ulrik. The banished and disgraced Dragon King hadn’t just made a nuisance of himself, but he somehow managed to get his magic returned.Which meant the Kings needed to put extra magic into keeping the four silver dragons sleeping undisturbed deep within the mountain. They were Ulrik’s dragons, and he would want to wake them soon.But it wasn’t just Ulrik that was causing mischief. The Dark Fae were as well. It infuriated Arian that they were once more fighting the Dark. Hadn’t the Fae Wars killed enough Fae and dragons?Then again, as a Dragon King as old as time itself, they were targets for others who wanted to defeat them.For Ulrik, he just wanted revenge. Arian hated him for it, but he could understand. Mostly because Arian had briefly joined Ulrik in his quest to rid the realm of humans.Thoughts of Ulrik were pushed aside as Arian found himself thinking about why he had taken to his mountain. When he came here six hundred years earlier, it was to remain there for many thousands of years.The Dragon Kings sought their mountains for many reasons. Some were just tired of dealing with mortals, but others had something they wished to forget for a while. Arian was one of the latter.There were many things he did in his past when the King of Kings, Constantine, asked. Not all of them Arian was proud of. The one that sent him to his mountain still preyed upon him.He didn’t remember her name, but he remembered her tears. Because of the spell to prevent any of the Dragon Kings from falling in love with mortals, Arian had easily walked away from the female.Six centuries later, he could still hear her begging him to stay with her, still see the tears coursing down her face. Though he hadn’t felt anything, it bothered him that he had so easily walked away. Because Con had demanded it.Loyalty—above all else.The Dragon Kings were his family, and Dreagan his home. There was never any question if he were needed that Arian would do whatever it took to help his brethren in any capacity asked of him.
Angus skidded to a stop and lifted his jaw as if sensing he was being watched. He looked in her direction and instantly covered his manhood as his eyes caught Jane's shocked face in the tree limbs. "Oh, lassie." "Oh, naked man," Jane teased before she could stop herself.
Glen Shiel, Socttish Highlands, 1296Strife abounds. King Edward of England has invaded the southern strongholds of Scotland and is pressuring King John of Scotland to abdicate. Several Scottish nobles, called Claimants, vie for his throne. The Cause divides the country, as each clan must choose and support a Claimant. Many contenders seek fortune and power, but a few seek Scotland’s independence. Only by a great force can this be achieved. However, the road to independence is fraught with those that wish to see the Cause crushed, at any cost.
She clambered to the shoreline. Numb and shaken, she began to dress. It wasn’t easy as she fumbled with slick fingers to put dry clothes over wet skin. She instantly regretted her naked swim. She pulled on her long-sleeved white chemise first. She faced the forest, away from her rescuer. He quietly splashed to shore. His lifeblood burned into her back. He wasn’t far behind, but he stopped. She refused to look at him until she was fully clothed, not out of embarrassment of her nudity, but for what had just happened. He released a groan and mumbled under his breath about wet boots. His voice was not one of her father’s soldiers. When she put the last garment on, her brown wool work kirtle, she squeezed out her sopping hair and swept her hands through the knotty mess. She fastened her belt and tied the lacings up the front of the kirtle. Blood returned to her fingertips, and she regained her composure. Belated awareness struck her, and she leaned down and searched through her bag for her dagger. She spun around. She gasped as she saw the man sitting on the stone-covered shoreline, his wet boots off. Confusion and the hint of a scowl filled his strong-featured face. She staggered back, caught her heel on a stone, and fell, dropping the dagger. Dirt and pebbles stuck to her wet hands and feet, and she instinctively scrambled away from him. His glower, iridescent dark blue eyes, and disheveled black hair were not unfamiliar. Staring at her was the man she had seen in her dream – it was the man from the wood.
This is an education on seduction,” Delilah said in a reverent tone… Ariana let her gaze skim across the silk wall hangings and shrugged. “I’ve not ever kissed a man.” ... Truthfully, she had not. She’d been so fixed on her attempts to placate her parents in the hopes they might pay her the slightest bit of positive attention, she had not so much as considered kissing any man. Delilah’s fingers touched Ariana’s chin, feather light, and tilted her face toward hers. “It is the most delicious thing. Close your eyes and I will tell you of it.” Obediently, Ariana closed her eyes, hoping if she did as she was told, the lesson would end sooner. It was an awkward sensation to sit in the ridiculous pillow-laden room with one’s eyes closed. “Relax,” Delilah said in a velvety tone. “Listen.” Ariana let her muscles slacken. “Imagine a man, tall and lean with muscle.” Delilah’s voice was quietly intimate. Hypnotic. “He’s staring at you as if you were the only women he’d ever seen. Truly seen. The only woman he’s ever wanted. The desire for you burning in his eyes.” Hazel eyes rose to the forefront of Ariana’s mind, a sharp jaw shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. Connor. She swallowed. “His arms come around you,” Delilah continued. “So strong, so warm. They offer you a protection unlike anything you’ve ever felt and make you wish you could melt into his embrace for the rest of your life.” In Ariana’s mind, Connor’s arms wrapped around her. But she didn’t shy from his touch – she welcomed. It. The chill of the room ebbed into a pleasant heat. “Your eyes meet. His fingers touch your face and his breath whispers over your lips. He lowers his head and you close your eyes just as his mouth touches yours, warm and demanding.” Ariana’s heart quickened and her breathing went almost ragged. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she flicked her tongue over her lips. “His body is a wall of strength against you, holding you upright, as your knees feel as though they will buckle. Then his tongue strokes yours, velvet fire and heady seduction.” Ariana drew a shaky breath….
Her breathing came faster, evidenced by the repeated rapid swell of her breasts against the low-cut bodice. Before he could let his thoughts circle around once more, he cupped the elegant line of her jaw in his palm. Her eyes widened. “Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered. Instead of answering, he lowered his mouth to the luscious warmth of hers.
Darcy looked at Graham for the first time in months, and realized that her memory had not done him justice. He was gold and bronze, perfect like a statue. His eyes were ice blue. They were eyes that could pierce a man's resolve, and probably had many times. But not now. Now they assessed her, ice fading to liquid sky...
The scene unfolded before him as though he were a ghost. His mother stood on the raised stump, her body tied to the tall stake behind her. A pile of wood encircled her feet. Only a small crowd had gathered in the courtyard, despite his father’s commands that all should attend. Alasdair sobbed at her feet, calling out to her. The young Alasdair climbed on the pile and clutched her flowing gown. She had been dressed in her finest, not stripped down to her chemise like the handmaid who stood tied to a post beside her. His father had always liked a display. Alasdair’s hands reached and passed over his mother’s large pregnant belly. With that, she sobbed, too. “Oh, Ali, be good for Momma. I’ll see you in the pearly white heaven that God has promised us. Be steadfast, son. Trust your heart.” “Light it,” his father ordered.
A large man with wild blond hair gripped hr horse’s reins, drawing her steed to a stop. “Welcome to hell.” Though he presented a jovial grin, his words shot straight to her gut. “Enough, Murdoch,” Sylvi said in a warning tone. The man shrugged his shoulders. “Ach, I’m just toying with the new lasses. “I’ll no’ be here long to share my winning personality.
Did I catch ye looking at me?" He knelt beside her and covered her with the plaid... "I couldn't help myself," she mumbled. He gave a low chuckle and slid in beside her. His naked arm pulled her close so her head rested on his solid chest. "Good answer." The smile was evident in his silky voice.
He hadn’t landed on the battlefield to save Christina, at least not entirely. He’d landed there because it was meant to be – because his destiny lay with a bonny woman who would capture his heart and show him honor and respect on a uniquely deep level that had been lost in the twenty-first century.
When their lips finally met, all the pent up emotion within Christina’s breast surged, funneling into a whirlwind of heat. Pushing away all thoughts, she allowed herself only to feel. Lachlan could be so physical, so powerful, so brutal, but when he wrapped his arms around her, Christina felt invincible. Be it true or nay, she felt loved, and cherished, and valued. Reaching up, she slid her fingers through his locks. Soft waves of thick tresses contrasted with hardened male…. As his kiss eased, he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I wish I could hold you in my arms forever.
God, you’re beautiful,” he growled while his cock throbbed with need. “Ye keep telling me that and ye’ll have me believing it,” she said with the sexiest, most breathless voice he’d ever heard. His fingers sank into her supple flesh. Her breasts were so full, so pliable, he craved to have his mouth on them, craved to suckle her nipples and listen to every soft moan. “You’d best believe me, because whenever you’re near, I feel like a caveman.” “A wild beast?” He nearly roared. “The wildest imaginable.
Steeling her resolve, she stepped further into the study. “Regardless if I have your blessing, I have made up my mind. I love Hugh Maclain. It is he whom I will wed.” Pap guzzled the remaining dregs. Slamming the bottle to the table with a belch, his gaze wandered to the hearth rather than to Charlotte. “No.” He drew the word out and it hung in the air and chilled like death. “You cannot marry a corpse.
He pulled her into his arms. Closing his eyes, he savored every inch of her small frame. God, why did she have to be the daughter of the Governor of Fort William? Why could she not be a simple lass from his clan. “Och, mo leannan, what am I to do with you?” She took in a stilted gasp. “Love me.
She held her finger to his lips. “We have a lifetime to reveal our secrets.” In a bold move, she took his hand and led him to the bed. Ever so eager to follow, Hugh’s mouth suddenly went dry. Hell, he couldn’t even manage a swallow. “Are you ready, my love?” he croaked. Licking those delectable lips, she nodded. “I want you more than the air I breathe.
Would you like to see where I will build your house, m’lady?” She grinned. “You mean our house?” He mirrored her smile. “Aye.” Taking her hand, he led her along the path to the mouth of the River Coe. They stood on a curved peninsula high above the river where it would be free from floods. Hugh spread his arms wide and looked across Loch Leven. “The hills of Glencoe will be our backdrop, the river of the Coe will be our music, and our galleys will sail through the water of the Leven to Loch Linnhe and out to sea. Mark me, my love, Clan Iain Abrach will rebuild, and will once again rule these lands.” He looked into her eyes and saw joy there. “And you will be my queen.
The first time Christina and Lachlan Meet ...Christina wasn't about to stop fighting—not until she took her last breath. Boring down with her heels, she thrashed. "Get off me, ye brute." She would hold her son in her arms this day if it was the last thing she did. And by the shift of the crushing weight on her chest, she only had moments before her life's breath completely whooshed from her lungs. The very thought of dying whilst her son was still held captive infused her with strength. With a jab, she slammed the heel of her hand across the man's chin. He flew from her body like a sack of grain. Praises be, had the Lord granted her with superhuman strength? Blinking, Christina sat up. No, no. Her strike hadn't rescued her from the pillager. A champion had. A behemoth of a man pummeled the pikeman's face with his fists. "Never. Ever." His fists moved so fast they blurred. "Harm. A. Woman!" Bloodied and battered, the varlet dropped to the dirt. A swordsman attacked her savior from behind. "Watch out," she cried, but before the words left her lips the warrior spun to his feet. Flinging his arm backward, he grabbed his assailant's wrist, stopped the sword midair and flipped the cur onto his back. Onward, he fought a rush of English attackers with his bare hands, without armor. Not even William Wallace himself had been so talented. This warrior moved like a cat, anticipating his opponent's moves before they happened. Five enemy soldiers lay on their backs. "Quickly," the man shouted, running toward her, his feet bare. No sooner had she rolled to her knees than his powerful arms clamped around her. The wind whipped beneath her feet. He planted her bum in the saddle. "Behind!" Christina screamed, every muscle in her body clenching taut. Throwing back an elbow, the man smacked an enemy soldier in the face resulting in a sickening crack. She picked up her reins and dug in her heels. "Whoa!" The big man latched onto the skirt of her saddle and hopped behind her, making her pony's rear end dip. But the frightened galloway didn't need coaxing. He galloped away from the fight like a deer running from a fox. Christina peered around her shoulder at the mass of fighting men behind them. "My son!" "Do you see him?" the man asked in the strangest accent she'd ever heard. She tried to turn back, but the man's steely chest stopped her. "They took him." "Who?" "The English, of course." The more they talked, the further from the border the galloway took them. "Huh?" the man mumbled behind her like he'd been struck in the head by a hammer. Everyone for miles knew the Scots and the English were to exchange a prisoner that day. The champion's big palm slipped around her waist and held on—it didn't hurt like he was digging in his fingers, but he pressed firm against her. The sensation of such a powerful hand on her body was unnerving. It had been eons since any man had touched her, at least gently. The truth? Aside from the brutish attack moments ago, Christina's life had been nothing but chaste. White foam leached from the pony's neck and he took in thunderous snorts. He wouldn't be able to keep this pace much longer. Christina steered him through a copse of trees and up the crag where just that morning she'd stood with King Robert and Sir Boyd before they'd led the Scottish battalion into the valley. There, she could gain a good vantage point and try to determine where the backstabbing English were heading with Andrew this time. At the crest of the outcropping, she pulled the horse to a halt. "The pony cannot keep going at this pace." The man's eyebrows slanted inward and he gave her a quizzical stare. Good Lord, his tempest-blue eyes pierced straight through her soul. "Are you speaking English?
David strode through the battle raging between his men and the castle defenders in the courtyard and headed straight for the keep, intent on his goal.The castle would fall quickly. The defenders lacked leadership and were in disarray. His only concern was whether the castle had a secret tunnel for escape. During the siege, he had spread his men out through the fields surrounding the fortress to keep watch. But he had concentrated his forces for the attack and most were now inside the castle. If there was a tunnel, he must secure the widow and her daughters before they had a chance to escape. He did not relish the idea of having to chase them down through the fields with dogs.The defenders had foolishly waited too long to withdraw to the keep, and most were caught in the courtyard when David’s men burst through the gate. He barely spared them a glance as he ran up the steps of the keep.With several of his warriors at his back, he burst through the doors brandishing his sword. He paused inside the entrance to hall. Women and children were screaming, and the few Blackadder warriors who had made it inside were overturning tables in a useless attempt to set up a defense.“If ye hope for mercy, drop your weapons,” David shouted, making his voice heard above the chaos.He locked gazes with the men who hesitated to obey his order until every weapon clanked to the floor, then he swept his gaze over the women. Their clothing confirmed what he’d known the moment he entered the hall. Blackadder’s widow was not in the room.“Where is she?” he demanded of the closest Blackadder man.“Who, m’lord?” the man said, shifting his gaze to the side.“Your mistress!” David picked him up by the front of his tunic and leaned in close. “Tell me now.”“In her bedchamber,” the man squeaked, pointing to an arched doorway. “’Tis up the stairs.”David caught a sudden whiff of urine and dropped the man to the floor in disgust. The wretch had wet himself.“Take him to the dungeon,” he ordered. The coward had given up his mistress far too easily.
David started up the wheeled stairs to the upper floors with his sword at the ready. He expected to encounter Blackadder warriors, protecting the lady of the castle. But there were none on the stairs and none guarding the door on the first floor.Damn it. She must have escaped. He gritted his teeth as he envisioned the lady’s guards leading her through the tunnel.He was about to open the chamber door to make sure it was empty when Brian, one of his best men, came down the stairs.“Laird, I checked all the chambers while ye were in the hall,” he said.David’s jaw ached from clenching it.“There’s one door on the floor just above us that wouldn’t open with the latch,” Brian said. “Shall I break it down?”David waved him aside and pulled the ax from his belt as he raced up the stairs.“Open it!” he shouted and pounded on the door.He did not wait. She could be escaping through a secret door this very moment. Three hard whacks with his ax, and the door split. He kicked it until it swung open, then stepped through.At his first sight of the woman, his feet became fixed to the floor. He felt strange, and his vision was distorted, as if as if he had swallowed a magical potion that narrowed his sight. He could see nothing in the room but her.She was extraordinarily lovely, with violet eyes, pale skin, and shining black hair. But there was something about her, something beyond her beauty, that held him captive. She was young, much younger than he expected, and her features and form were delicate, in marked contrast to the violent emotion in her eyes.David knew to the depths of his soul that a brute like him should not be the man to claim this fragile flower, even while the word mine beat in his head like a drum. He had no notion of how long he stood staring at her before he became aware that she held a sword. It was longer still before he noticed the two wee lasses peeking out from behind her like frightened kittens.Anger boiled up in his chest. Every Blackadder man in the castle who could still draw breath should have been here, standing between him and their lady. Instead, she faced him alone with a sword she could barely lift with both hands.It was a brave, but ridiculous gesture.There was no defense against him.
I was a possession he had a right to use, a woman with no feelings that mattered.” Wedderburn still did not speak. “I don’t want to feel like that again,” she said in a whisper. Wedderburn’s eyes were dark with a violent emotion, but his hands were gentle as he held her face. “You’ll never be just any woman to me,” he said. “I want to know you, Alison Douglas.
He slipped his tongue between her lips and thrust it wantonly inside her mouth over and over, echoing the enticing move of his hips against hers. She clutched him closer, reveling in the feel of him, and the fact that she'd made him moan for her, whisper her name over and over, beg her without words for more. To kiss him more. To touch him more.
A fire burned in her chest. A fire that both terrified her and compelled her to lean into him and take everything he would give her. She trembled with the force of these strange emotions. "Shona." He lifted his hand to gently tilt her chin up and caress her cheek. His breath teased her lips and his nose touched hers briefly. "Aye," she responded. His masculine scent and that of spices from the mulled wine stole her thoughts. When his lips touched hers like a light brush of silk, she was ensnared and her breath remained trapped in her chest. Some instinct within her surged to the surface and she pressed her lips firmly against his.
Shona thought of another question. "What does a man expect of a woman? I would have no inkling what to do." Isobel waved a hand. "He will show you soon enough. Anyway, it will come to you as if 'twas something you'd always known. Accepting his kisses and kissing him back. Touching him. Men loved to be touched." "Where?" "Anywhere," Isobel snickered. "I remember one thing that surprised me the first time. Although I should have known considering how men are always staring down at my breasts." Shona felt her eyes widen again, then tried to hide her shock. "Men love to kiss and suckle nipples," Isobel whispered. "Heavens, you cannot be serious." Shona felt like the most naive person on earth at that moment. "Indeed, I am. That is why they're always gawking at women's breasts, even when they're covered my layers of clothing. They also like to fondle, squeeze, kiss and stroke them." Shona cleared her throat. She had never imagined such a thing.
The breeze was calm and the sun beamed between the scattering clouds. Glancing across the rolling heather-covered landscape and toward the burn, he didn't see Remy or anyone else. "Twas too bad that the heather was not in bloom for the sight would have been lovely. Glancing up, he noticed something else. A giant double rainbow spanned across the horizon, one slightly dimmer than the other. "Ah," he halted and turned in the saddle. "Have you ever seen such a bonny rainbow?" Shona gasped. "Nay. 'Tis very bright." Even lovelier, at least to Keegan, was Shona's smile as she took in the scenery. She was so beautiful, his chest ached. Yet, he knew not how he was going to keep her in his life so that he might see her smile every day.
She dropped her hand, but he caught it and kissed her palm. His lips and warm breath on her sensitive skin fragmented her thoughts. His gaze held hers with that intense, magnetic force she didn't understand. It compelled her to draw closer to him. And she did. He leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. It surprised her and served as a potent temptation. Unable to quell her enthusiasm, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and tilted her chin up hungering for another kiss like the one they'd shared the night before. "Saints!" Keegan growled, then took her mouth. His wicked tongue flicked at her lips and she opened for him - completely ready to devour him. But he did not seem in a hurry as he tempted and taunted her, barely touching his tongue to hers, then retreating. A sound escaped her and she was shocked to realize that it was halfway between a moan and a needy whine. He gave an answering groan and stroked his tongue inside her mouth. It darted around hers and then swirled. He hummed a soft sound. "So sweet," he whispered.
He inclined his head toward a fallen log. "Come. Let us break our fast." She pushed the heels of her hands against her temples as if she had an ache in her head. "I need a cup of coffee." William sat on a log. "What is this ye say ... coffee?" She looked at him and arched one brow as if she considered him daft. "It's a hot drink that helps me wake up in the morning." "But ye are already awake.
She swatted the fur beside her. "Sit." Growling, he shoved his dirk back in its sheath. "I'll listen, but if ye lift a finger against me, I'll slit your throat afore ye can draw your next breath." "I'll keep that in mind." Eva smoothed her fingers over her throat ...
Barely able to breathe, Eva's tongue slipped across her lips. He moved a bit closer. "Every time ye walk past, I want ye. Your scent sends my insides into a maelstrom of need." She closed her eyes and drew out the moment, wishing he'd say that again. Oh, how delectable to listen to a medieval Scotsman declare his desire.
In a heartbeat, he scarcely could take a breath. Wearing not a stitch of clothing, Eva stood in thigh-deep water with her back to him. Before he blinked, his gaze slid from coppery tresses brushing feminine shoulders to a tiny waist which fanned into glorious heart-shaped buttocks. Heaven's stars, her flawless skin had to be as pure white as fresh cream. God on the cross, save me. Christ, he was only a flesh and blood man. Who on earth could resist such a temptation? He clenched his teeth and growled. Frigid water or nay, he lengthened like a stallion catching scent of a filly in heat. God's teeth, even his ballocks turned to balls of tight molten steel.
It was a chaste kiss, but as her lips brushed his warm cheek, her eyes met his. They were deep and dark, warm with passion and longing. And somehow she knew, without question, what he thought. What he felt. Time held its breath - and in that moment, looking into Buchan's warm, tormented gaze, Tatiana's heart awoke.
I-I've wanted you ever since..." She untied the sash around her waist and let the dressing gown drop to the floor. God save him, she wore not a stitch of clothing. Every shred of self-control fled. His mind consumed with the tantalizing woman before him. Somehow she was even more beautiful now that he'd remembered. The candlelight flickered amber across her skin. Chestnut tresses slid over her shoulder, framing two perfectly formed breasts, tipped by rose. Sean licked his lips, those delectable rosebuds would be his second stop. In two strides, he wrapped her in his arms and crushed his body against hers. "For all that is holy, you have claimed my soul, my flesh and my mind.
He cleared his throat. "I wish I could take back what I said." He looked away. "I behaved like a thoin aiseal.""What does that mean?""A donkey's arse."She glanced down at the furs, found herself fighting a smile. "And how do you pronounce that? I somehow suspect I may have need of that phrase again.
He covered her mouth with his ---and she felt as if she had suddenly been enveloped in a cascade of sparks. The tingling warmth from his touch did not compare to the sensations that whirled through her as his lips moved over hers. It was as if every part of her body had at once become brilliantly alive.His beard was a startling, silky roughness against her skin. His other hand came to rest at her waist, drawing her in tight, and her body seemed to meld to his hard, lean lines, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her thoughts scattered. A sound escaped her, soft and deep, unlike any sound she had ever made in her life.Then his tongue touched her lower lip and she gave a startled little squeak.Her suddenly lifted his mouth from hers, his eyes midnight blue, his voice husky. "You have never even been kissed before, leannan. You are as innocent as the day you first set foot in the convent.
As I have said, milady, I mean to keep you safe, not harm you. And it is not my habit to force myself on unwilling maidens.""Aye, pilgrim?" she asked dubiously. "Next you will tell me you are as chaste as a monk." She backed toward the door.A grin slowly eased the hard line of his mouth. "I did not say that.
It had seemed entirely sensible at the time. A simple way to test the truth of her claim that she had lain with de Villiers. To show her that lying to him was useless. To make a point.Instead, he had ignited a desire that burned him like none he had ever felt before.He had expected Lady Laurien d'Amboise to be a timid little convent mouse. Quiet and passive and pliant. Easily manageable. Instead she was outspoken and strong-willed...and stunning in a way he could not even describe.An innocent beauty caught up in a deadly game that was none of her making....Malcolm rose to leave, chuckling."And what is there to laugh about?"Darach gave his jovial friend a dour look.Malcolm stopped just long enough to do his best imitation of Darach. "'Simple. Kidnap one French lass, hold her for a fortnight, and return her to de Villiers after he meets our demands. Perfectly simple.
Aye, we are. Ye told me that ye loved me, and that this is where ye wished to be. I told ye that I wished for ye to remain here with me. I offered a betrothal, if ye’ll recall, when ye were ready. But I neglected to tell ye the most important thing before our passions overtook us yesterday. I love ye, too, Aileana. I never want to lose ye again. I want ye beside me, always.
Kiril glanced around the darkened room. He walked to a leather chair and sat, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles. “Did you know that during the Fae Wars the Dark took two Dragon Kings? At different times, of course.”“I suppose they escaped as well? Are you telling me we don’t know how to hold a Dragon King?”“The Dark did . . . things to my brethren. One completely lost his mind and attacked us, which is what the Dark wanted. He had to be killed. The other King knew what was happening to him, but he couldna stop it. He came to us and begged to be killed before he could harm one of us.”Shara sipped her whisky before she said, “You lost two Kings and I lost seven siblings.”“And the Light the Dark took?”“The Dark take the Light and the Light take the Dark.”Kiril let his gaze drift down her body. How he itched to have her long legs wrapped around him. Things would be so much easier if he didn’t desire her as he did, but there wasn’t a switch he could flip and turn off his body’s reaction. The more he tried to ignore the growing desire, the more it raged uncontrollably within him.He gave himself a mental shake and returned to their conversation. “What’s the plan, then? Will the Dark storm in here and try to capture me?”Shara walked around the room, her hand skimming along the backs of the chairs. “No.”“No?” Kiril set aside his glass on the table next to him and silently rose to his feet. He followed her as if a string tied them together. “What then?”“You don’t really want to know.”Kiril spun her around so hard that her glass flew from her hand and landed upon a rug, spilling the whisky but not breaking the crystal. “Tell me,” he demanded in a soft, deadly voice.“My job is to seduce you.” She held her stance for a heartbeat before she retreated, taking two steps back.He tracked her until she was once more in the entryway. The shadows darkened everything, and yet the smallest sliver of moonlight found her, illuminating her in a pale blue glow.No longer could he deny what he wanted. Perhaps it was her confession. Maybe it was because he hadn’t taken to the skies in weeks. Whatever it was, all he knew was that he had to have her or go up in flames.“Then seduce me.
Suddenly, Warrick lifted his head. Darcy struggled to open her eyes and think through the fog of desire. She gazed into his cobalt eyes, her stomach clenching at the longing she saw reflected there. "There's a Dark at the back," he whispered. Darcy was so frustrated that she wanted to scream. Why couldn't they have a few minutes of privacy? If it wasn't Rhi popping in, it was the Dark after her. "Tell him to go away. We're busy." A sexy grin pulled at Warrick's lips. "Gladly.
Suddenly, the man was thrown off her. Darcy looked around, but saw nothing. She rose up on her elbows to see the man climbing to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. His four comrades were looking up to the sky nervously.A huge, dark shape descended from the sky, vanishing quickly. Along with one of her attackers. Darcy was afraid to move and be taken as well. She remained still, her chest heaving.Another shape formed out of the dark sky. She could only stare openmouthed at the dragon coming right for her.Just before he touched down, the dragon shifted, taking the form of a man—a man that left her breathless and awestruck.There was no denying she was looking at a Dragon King.He stood naked, his hands at his sides while his gaze was riveted on the men who accosted her. The shadows kept much of him out of sight, but the streetlamps shed enough light of the hard sinew of his body that she wanted to see more.His lips peeled back in a snarl as he fought the four remaining men. He moved quickly, as if it were as effortless as breathing. The men began to throw huge bubbles of magic at the Dragon King. He dodged many of them. The few that hit him barely made an impact other than to infuriate him, if his bared teeth were any indication.The man—or whatever he was—who had stopped her in the pub was struck down with lethal force by the Dragon King. Darcy almost cheered, but it got lodged in her throat when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.Had she not turned right then, Darcy would never have seen the second dragon swoop from the sky and wrap its talons around another of the men before flying away, crushing him.That left just two of her attackers. They and the Dragon King circled each other on the street.“She’s ours,” one of the red-eyed men said.The Dragon King merely raised a brow. “Think again, Dark.”More globes of magic flew from the two Dark, but the Dragon King was too fast. He came up behind one of the Dark and ripped out his spinal column. The same instant the dragon grabbed the other. Both Dark fell lifeless to the ground a moment later.Darcy hadn’t moved a muscle in the few minutes that had passed. The need that had assaulted her earlier with the Dark was now gone. But she wasn’t alone.The Dragon King’s gaze turned to her. Darcy watched him standing in the glow of the streetlight, completely mesmerized by the dragon tat that ran from the King’s right shoulder, under his armpit, and down his side to the top of his right thigh.The dragon’s head was at the front of the man’s shoulder and had his mouth open as if on a roar. He was rearing with his wings up and out. It was his long tail that stopped at the King’s thigh.The King glistened with sweat that made his muscles gleam in the light. Darcy had the absurd notion to run her hands all over his body, learning the feel of his hard muscles and warm skin.Her gaze traveled down his wide chest to his washboard stomach and narrow waist. Then lower...
The Dragon King's gaze turned to her. Darcy watched him standing in the glow of the streetlight, completely mesmerized by the dragon tat that ran from the King's right shoulder, under his armpit, and down his side to the top of his right thigh. The dragon's head was at the front of the man's shoulder and had his mouth open as if on a roar. He was rearing with his wings up and out. It was his long tail that stopped at the King's thigh. The King glistened with sweat that made his muscles gleam in the light. Darcy had the absurd notion to run her hands all over his body, learning the feel of his hard muscles and warm skin.
How long has it been since you and your King were together?" he asked. Rhi looked away, the tears returning again. "A very long time, but not so long that I don't remember the taste of his kiss or the way he would look at me and smile." "You'll never move on unless you let go. What you need is another lover." She cut him a look. "Are you applying for the position?" "Would you take me?
Darcy was floating, soaring. Warrick's kiss was sensual, carnal. It aroused her, inflamed her. His touch was just as wickedly delightful. His hands stroked her back, her butt, holding her tight, as if he couldn't fathom releasing her. She never wanted the kiss to end. It was too good, too ... perfect.
I see this is not the first time you've gotten yourself injured," she said, sounding irritated. "I suppose battle scars are a badge of honor for you Highlanders."He shrugged. "Every scar provides a tale to share around the hearth.""You should be more careful," she scolded."I am careful," he said with a laugh. "That's why I live to tell the tales.
No one lacked imagination like the English. Yet he could not dismiss the notion that this lass dressed in breeches could be the seer his grandmother foretold. Finding an English lass lying on a Scottish hillside so many miles from the border was strange enough to have a touch of magic about it.
Iain MacGregor,” she whispered longingly, looking up. The woods were quiet. Strips of moonlight shone through tree limbs that reached like surreal black fingertips across her vision. A single tear slid down her cheek. She touched her mouth, imagining his kiss.Taking a small pocket knife out of her cargo pants, she looked about. A mystic had once told her that if she left pieces of herself around while she lived, it would expand her haunting territory when she died. Jane wasn’t sure she believed in sideshow magic tricks—or the Old Magick as the mystic had spelled it on her sign. She had no idea what had possessed her to talk to the palm reader and ask about ghosts. Still, just in case, she was leaving her stamp all over the woods.She cut her palm and pressed it to a nearby tree under a branch. Holding the wound to the rough bark stung at first, but then it made her feel better. This forest wouldn’t be a bad eternity.The sound of running feet erupted behind her and she stiffened. No one ever came out here at night. She’d walked the woods hundreds of times. Her mind instantly went to the creepy girl ghosts chanting by the stream.“Whoohoo!”Jane whipped around, startled as a streak of naked flesh sprinted past her. The Scottish voice was met with loud cheers from those who followed him. “Water’s this way, lads, or my name isn’t Raibeart MacGregor, King of the Highlands!”Another naked man dashed through the forest after him. “It smells of freedom.”Jane stayed hidden in the branches, undetected, with her hand pressed to the bark.“Aye, freedom from your proper Cait,” Raibeart answered, his voice coming through the dark where he’d disappeared into the trees.“Murdoch, stop him before he reaches town. Cait will not teleport ya out of jail again,” a third man yelled, not running quite so fast. “Raibeart, ya are goin’ the wrong way!”“Och, Angus, my Cait canna live without me,” Murdoch, the second streaker, answered. “She’ll always come to my rescue.”“I said stop him, Murdoch, we’re new to this place.” Angus skidded to a stop and lifted his jaw, as if sensing he was being watched. He looked in her direction and instantly covered his manhood as his eyes caught Jane’s shocked face in the tree limbs. “Oh, lassie.”“Oh, naked man,” Jane teased before she could stop herself.“That I am,” Angus answered, “but there is an explanation for it.”“I don’t think some things need explained,” Jane said.
What a trio we are: wolf, dragon and . . .” Ronan bit back the word. Shifter. He sat straighter in the saddle, raising one hand in farewell as his mount broke through the last of the boundary mists. “May the gods favor us this time, my friend. Pray Mairi Sinclair is the one.