To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull series) by Lily Baldwin Page B

transfixed. Raising a hesitant hand, he grazed the tips of his fingers across one of the bruises now lining her arms. They were a reminder of the crushing strength he used against her earlier that day, following her claim to be a MacLean.
    He crouched low and scooped up her plaid. Saying nothing, he walked behind her and with adept hands he wrapped the plaid around her form. Using her own belt, he secured half the fabric at her waist. Then facing her, he crisscrossed the remainder over her chest and around her shoulders then back around her chest again and secured the folds with a pin he produced from his sporran.
    He still did not speak but took her hands in his. She felt for a moment like a child. Her small hands seemed to disappear in his mighty grasp. He knelt in front of her.
    “Forgive me, Bridget. I have a wicked temper, but I did not think I was capable of such cruelty.” He released a half-hearted chuckle that surprised her. “You see, I am naught but a bad joke. Earlier, I congratulated myself for the restraint I have shown since we set out to come here. There have been several occasions when I might have lost my temper, but you somehow make me feel…peaceful, even with your tantrums and foul language.” His eyes brighten from brown to amber, and she realized they revealed the intensity of his emotions.
    “Look at what I have done to you.” His hands gestured to her arms.
    Shoney sensed his sincerity and was moved by his words, but as Ronan continued, her sympathy turned to fury.
    “You are the weaker sex. ‘Tis my duty to protect not to harm.”
    “What”, she cried as she shoved him with all her might, the force knocking him back on the hard rock floor.
    “You are saying all of this only because I am a woman?” she shouted, shaking her fist in his face. “A woman can be a threat as well as a man. A woman can fight with steel and fist.” She stared down at him, breathing hard. Then she offered him her hand. “You thought me a threat to your clan and so you acted.” He reached out and accepted her help to stand. “I do not want your treatment of me to be dictated by my sex but rather by my merit”, she said.
    He stared at her for some time. Shoney could not tell what he was thinking. Then his full lips curved into his sideways grin, and she suddenly felt breathless and unsure of herself. With both hands, he cupped her face and tilted her head back. She could feel the warmth of his breath and smell his rich, masculine scent.
    “As I said before, you are the most unusual lass I have ever known.” Then he pressed a kiss to her brow, but as his lips touched her skin a white light erupted in her mind’s eye, and she was lost to a vision.
    There was a man riding hard over the moors. His black curls stuck to his face as sweat dripped from his brow. To his rear were five riders giving chase and gaining on him. He disappeared into a thick haze and one by one the riders followed. Thunder clamored with deafening force as the black-haired rider pushed on unseeing through the dense fog. Then five gleaming blades cut through the mist like veins of lightening, piercing his body. He cried out and fell, vanishing into the thick haze. As the fog lifted, his bloodied body crumbled at the foot of the Cillchriosd Standing Stone, and in the distance fled five riders with a horse in tow. The man opened his eyes. They were as blue and bright as the summer sky, and from his lips came forth a simple plea, “Shoney”, he cried .
    Shoney’s eyes snapped open as she inhaled sharply.
    “Bridget, what happened? Are you hurt?” Ronan’s voice tugged at her senses, releasing Shoney from her trance.
    She was fine, but somewhere out there was a man with black hair and startling blue eyes who was hurt and in desperate need of aid.
    “I will be alright, Ronan, but I’m afraid I do feel a bit faint, and I am famished.”
    He looked doubtful. “Why did you not answer when I called your name?” His hand went to her brow.