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342 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 28, 2006
“Aye, lass. You’re safe.” He held her close, stroked her hair, his voice a soothing rumble in his chest. “I’ll no’ let any man harm you—no’ while there is still breath in my body.”
“I cannae go there. Please dinnae send me there.”Ms. Clare not only gives us a hero to die for, she also gives a wonderful sense of place and time (pre-revolutionary, colonial America), providing us with many a villain and one I could only hope will find redemption in this series. Brava to Ms. Clare for picking a setting and era not selected frequently by romance writers and bringing a highland warrior to America!
“What frightens you, Annie?”
She seemed to hesitate. “ ’Tis no’ safe for me. Please dinnae ask me more.”
Galled that she did not trust him, he answered more harshly than he’d intended. “You’ll go where I deem you safe.”
She stiffened in his arms. “I am safe here.”
“Nay, Annie. You’re right about me. I am a barbarian. If you stay, ’tis only a matter of time before I come to your bed and steal far more than a kiss. You ken it as well as I. Aye, I can feel it in the way your heart is beatin’. If you stay here, you and I will lie together—as sure as the sun rises.”
She dared not trust him.
She had no choice but to trust him.
Her life depended on him.
At the first sharp touch of the cold blade against her mound, she whimpered, as much from arousal as fear. "Oh, please, Iain, dinnae-!"
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She could not imagine her life without him. This past month had been the happiest she'd ever known. Never has she felt more alive. At times it was hard to believe such joy could be real. Each morning she awoke in his arms, and each night she fell asleep sated from his loving.
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Never had he been so intimate with a woman, her every thought and feeling as important to him as his own. Never had his heart and body and soul belonged so completely to anyone. Never has his dreams or days ahead mattered more to him. Never had he felt so mortal.
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“Tha móran ghràdh agam ort, dh’Annaidh.” My love lies upon you, Annie, and it always will.
“You’d tempt a saint, lass. But I am no’ a saint.”
Annie gasped and covered her breasts with her arms.….“Y-you ought no’ be watchin’.”
“You ought no’ be naked.”
His rage broke like the tide against the shore, and before he could think, he pulled her hard against him, held her, stroked her hair. “You foolish, brave woman! Why do you no’ obey me?”
“What the bloody hell is he doin’?” Connor asked from somewhere behind them.
Morgan answered. “I think he’s punishin’ her.”
“If he tries this on the men, they’ll mutiny.”
Connor turned to Morgan. “Tell me, brother, do you think it’s the quality of the farmer’s seed and the strength of his spade that make the crop, or is it the richness of the field he’s plowin’?”
Morgan and Joseph broke into laughter. Then Morgan answered. “Surely, ’tis a bit of both, though in this case, I’d have to say I’ve seen our brother’s spade, and it’s no’ so strong nor so big as mine—”
“Nor mine,” Connor added.
“—so it must be a fine field he’s been plowin’, a fine field, indeed.”
Then he passed the flask on to Connor, who had an impressive black eye and a row of stitches on his cheek. “You look bonnie.”
“And you.” Connor grinned, raised the flask, and drank.
“’Tis clear out of the three of us whose face God favors most.” Morgan took the flask back, his smile flashing white in the gloaming. “Not a scratch.”
Connor gave a snort. “I think the Almighty confused your face for your arse and wanted you to be able to sit.”