Amy Jarecki

Though we are not together in body, know that I will always be with you in spirit. I will be in the whistling wind and in your dreams. Think of me in the joy of watching snow fall and know that I am thinking of you always.

God save him, she smelled of a field of roses and tasted sweeter than port wine. Drawing her hands over her mouth Charlotte gasped. __ugh. How did we end up on the bed?_ __ think we must have floated,_ he whispered.

She held her finger to his lips. __e 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__ mouth suddenly went dry. Hell, he couldn__ even manage a swallow. __re you ready, my love?_ he croaked. Licking those delectable lips, she nodded. __ want you more than the air I breathe.

God, you__e beautiful,_ he growled while his cock throbbed with need. __e keep telling me that and ye__l have me believing it,_ she said with the sexiest, most breathless voice he__ 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. __ou__ best believe me, because whenever you__e near, I feel like a caveman._ __ wild beast?_ He nearly roared. __he wildest imaginable.

My mum always taught that the truth will set you free._ __id she now?_ __m hmm,_ Lachlan brushed the pad of his pointer finger over her cheek__ silken skin. __ut she kept one truth hidden from me until very recently._ __hat was that?_ He gulped. __ou know the truth thing on the medallion? __ye._ __ell, if that__ my rallying cry, then it will mean the world to me if you trust that I__ not lying._ She let the disk drop back to his chest. __e can tell me anything, I__ reckon._ He needed to tell her the truth. __y father is _ was William Wallace.

Geordie stepped forward and took her hand. __ hope you__e not tired, because I intend to keep you on my arm until the music stops.

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. __ch, mo leannan, what am I to do with you?_ She took in a stilted gasp. __ove me.

Before Christina could stop herself, her gaze dipped lower. Holy saints, the outline of his manhood stretched the cloth taut. She__ never seen a man so well endowed. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her hand against her forehead and tried not to swoon while she forced herself to snap her gaze to his face. __hey__e braies, not box-ers._ She bent down, picked up his blue ones and held them up. __e ken?_ __ight, bra-ie-s,_ he said as if it were a new word for him. __ow do you keep them up?

Steeling her resolve, she stepped further into the study. __egardless 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. __o._ He drew the word out and it hung in the air and chilled like death. __ou cannot marry a corpse.

The first time Christina and Lachlan Meet ...Christina wasn't about to stop fighting__ot 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__t 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?

He took a step back to distance himself from her wicked, mind-consuming scent. In the future if he wanted to bamboozle an opponent in the karate ring, all he had to do was splash on some eau de Christina.

When their lips finally met, all the pent up emotion within Christina__ 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. __ wish I could hold you in my arms forever.

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

He kissed her temple. "Would you read to me?" "You wouldn't grow bored?" "Not if you were reading, my love." Helen slipped off the bed, tiptoed into the main chamber and retrieved the book from the table. When she returned, Eoin had situated the candelabra to provide good light, and arranged the pillows for comfort. How wonderful it was to be with a man who actually cared enough to do simple things like fluffing the pillows. He opened his arms and beckoned her to him. "Come and tell me what this story's about." "It would be my pleasure, sir knight." Helen climbed up and snuggled into his arms. She opened the cover and read the title. "'The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle'." She looked at Eoin and grinned. "The story begins when the mystical knight, Sir Gromer Somer Joure, challenges King Arthur to discover what women desire most, or face dire consequences." He rested his chin on her shoulder and peered at the pages. "You have me entranced already.

He hadn__ landed on the battlefield to save Christina, at least not entirely. He__ 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 she straightened, he leaned back in the chair, his eyelids heavy. __y God, woman, you know how to make a man melt.

The fairies will work their magic. They always do.

The ruddy chieftain snorted. __ou__e not noticed? I reckon he__ as smitten as a bull in a paddock of heifers in spring.