By Teresa Medeiros
Emmaline Marlowe is set to wed the strong laird of the Hepburn extended family whilst ruffian Jamie Sinclair bursts into the abbey and abducts her. Emma's mysterious captor is every thing her bridegroom isn't really - good-looking, virile and hazardous.
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Falling so tough and so speedy that no longer even Jamie’s fingers may perhaps seize her. Then every thing had long past as darkish because the blackest evening. yet even within the murky hours and days that undefined, Jamie were there—his immense, callused arms easing her to a sitting place with a tenderness that are meant to were most unlikely for them; his gruff burr coaxing her to open her mouth wider so he may perhaps spoon a bitter-tasting broth among her lips; his cool lips brushing her forehead while it was once ablaze with fever; his hot palms enfolding her while she used to be wracked with chills; his head bowed as he clutched her limp hand and pleaded with God to allow her dwell. So it was once no shock it was once his presence she sensed while the 1st glimmers of sunshine started to pierce the receding shadows. She slowly pried open her eyes, anticipating her head to forestall spinning and the wavering global back into concentration. whilst it ultimately did, she stumbled on herself observing into the mild eyes of a tremendous brindled beast sitting in entrance of a crackling hearth on a crude stone fire. “Why is there a pony in the following? ” she requested, stunned through how rusty her voice sounded to her personal ears. “’Tis now not a pony, lass. ’Tis a puppy. ” She frowned on the towering creature. “That, sir, is not any puppy. ” “Aye, it's. ’Tis a deerhound. ” because the creature folded its lengthy limbs and sank right into a reclining place, her frown deepened. “Are you certain it’s no longer a deer? ” She gingerly became her head, wincing at a lingering twinge of stiffness, in simple terms to discover herself looking at up right into a pair of arctic eco-friendly eyes fringed with thick silver lashes. A wave of concern rippled via her. the fellow she have been arguing with wasn’t Jamie in any respect, yet Jamie as he may glance 40 years from now. His thick hair could be the snowy white of hoarfrost and his face as craggy because the facet of a mountain, yet time hadn’t robbed this guy of his vigour because it had the Hepburn. He nonetheless possessed the striking shoulders and rugged energy of a miles more youthful guy. He wore a green-and-black tartan kilt and a ruffled blouse with falls of lace on the throat and cuffs that made him glance as though he belonged in a few Gainsborough or Reynolds portrait from the former century. knowing she couldn’t have most likely been asleep for that lengthy, she whispered, “You needs to be Jamie’s grandfather. ” She blinked up at him, not able to tug her gaze clear of these oh-so-familiar eyes. every little thing concerning the guy was once greater than existence, together with the wood chair he had drawn subsequent to her mattress. nonetheless too muzzy-headed to censor her phrases, she blurted out, “I concept you have been death. ” Ramsey Sinclair leaned ahead, his eyes twinkling as though he was once approximately to confide a scrumptious mystery. “Well, for the prior few days, i assumed ye have been loss of life, too. ” “Mind yer tongue,” a voice croaked. “I’ve labored too tough to maintain the lass alive to enable ye scare her to dying. ” Emma couldn't cease herself from recoiling at the pillow as a girl who appeared old sufficient to be the Hepburn’s grandmother got here shuffling towards the other aspect of the mattress, the rounded hump in her again forcing her to droop virtually double.