“The softness of her touch, the emerald eyes gazing into his when they held hands and circled, attacked his defenses and flung them aside as if he were a helpless lad. If she'd come at him with a dagger, he might have let her stab him in the heart.”

“The softness of her touch, the emerald eyes gazing into his when they held hands and circled, attacked his defenses and flung them aside as if he were a helpless lad. If she'd come at him with a dagger, he might have let her stab him in the heart.”

“Enya assessed him like a woman would a piece of fine cloth. "Rugged land for a rugged man.”

“The softness of her touch, the emerald eyes gazing into his when they held hands and circled, attacked his defenses and flung them aside as if he were a helpless lad. If she'd come at him with a dagger, he might have let her stab him in the heart.”

“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.”

“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 ruddy chieftain snorted. “You’ve not noticed? I reckon he’s as smitten as a bull in a paddock of heifers in spring.”

“No man returns from Satan’s fire read to dance a reel.”

“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.”

“He opened his eyes to half-cast. With a low rumble he lifted her onto his hips. "Take me to heaven, lassie. For no one but ye can cool the fire thrumming in my blood.”

“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.”

“Isn't one man's truth another man's lie?”