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Authors: Donna Grant
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“Will you tell me?”
“What is the point in it?” he asked.
Sonya felt more than heard the hurt. “My days were spent in the forest or swimming in the loch when I wasn’t learning mag … who I am,” she amended.
“That was—is—a good life.”
“But nothing like yours was.”
Broc sighed and guided her away from the prying ears of the vendor to continue their stroll. “Nay, Sonya. It was nothing like mine. Until Deirdre, I never knew there was another, secret world living alongside mine.”
“Was your world like this village?” she asked. She couldn’t help herself. She had to know. “Did you live in a village much like this one?”
One side of his mouth tilted into a smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Nay, but one was nearby. I was there often enough causing trouble. My favorite thing to do was play jests on the merchants.”
“Did you ever get caught?”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “Oh, aye. Most every time, though I did learn to run away quicker.”
Sonya stumbled when she caught sight of Broc’s smile. His hand reached out to steady her, but she knew nothing would ever steady her heart again. Not after seeing something that transformed his face from handsome to heartstoppingly dazzling.
Broc’s smile had been full of good memories, full of mirth and happiness, and it had changed his already striking face into one that took her breath away. He was an arresting male with his height, his long, fair hair, and his dark eyes, and his brooding only made him more so.
But the smile … the smile showed Sonya another side of Broc, a side she longed to learn more about.
They walked the rest of the village in silence. When they reached the end, Sonya turned to start back toward the inn when Broc pushed her up against a cottage.
His hard body pressed hers against the cottage wall, shielding her. Instinctively she braced her hands against his chest. Beneath her palms she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart and the taut, hard muscles.
Fire licked beneath her skin, heating her blood and causing her heart to race erratically. It was always so when Broc touched her, and the more she stayed near him, the more her body yearned for his touch.
Sonya inhaled his scent of wind, of warm, sunny skies. She waited for him to caress her, to kiss her as she had dreamed of him doing since the first moment she had seen him standing outside Quinn’s chamber.
She could feel the heat of his skin through the tunic he wore. How she longed to be able to touch his bare flesh, to trace the line of muscles she felt beneath her hands, muscles she had seen countless times as he stood bare-chested before her in his Warrior form.
Slowly, Sonya raised her gaze from Broc’s chest to his face. He wasn’t looking at her as she had expected. His dark eyes weren’t filled with passion and desire.
It was the way he stared off into the woods which told her something had alerted him to danger. He was there to protect her, to ensure she returned to MacLeod Castle without incident. Regardless of what Broc wanted, he would see to her safety first.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Wyrran.”
EIGHT
It was all Broc could do not to lean down and take Sonya’s lips. Her hands on his chest, her body pressed so tightly against his. It was too much.
The yearning, the hunger for her was irresistible.
He had thought of nothing but protecting her when he’d caught sight of the yellow-skinned wyrran. But the moment their bodies had touched, Broc’s need to stroke, to learn, to claim Sonya warred with that of protection.
Rage bubbled within him, rage he knew came from his god. Yet, he couldn’t control it. He wanted to hunt the wyrran and rip it limb from limb for disturbing his time with Sonya.
“Are you sure?” Sonya murmured.
“Unfortunately. I couldna shake the feeling last night that something was near. Now I know what it was.”
He could sense her fear by the
“What is the point in it?” he asked.
Sonya felt more than heard the hurt. “My days were spent in the forest or swimming in the loch when I wasn’t learning mag … who I am,” she amended.
“That was—is—a good life.”
“But nothing like yours was.”
Broc sighed and guided her away from the prying ears of the vendor to continue their stroll. “Nay, Sonya. It was nothing like mine. Until Deirdre, I never knew there was another, secret world living alongside mine.”
“Was your world like this village?” she asked. She couldn’t help herself. She had to know. “Did you live in a village much like this one?”
One side of his mouth tilted into a smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Nay, but one was nearby. I was there often enough causing trouble. My favorite thing to do was play jests on the merchants.”
“Did you ever get caught?”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “Oh, aye. Most every time, though I did learn to run away quicker.”
Sonya stumbled when she caught sight of Broc’s smile. His hand reached out to steady her, but she knew nothing would ever steady her heart again. Not after seeing something that transformed his face from handsome to heartstoppingly dazzling.
Broc’s smile had been full of good memories, full of mirth and happiness, and it had changed his already striking face into one that took her breath away. He was an arresting male with his height, his long, fair hair, and his dark eyes, and his brooding only made him more so.
But the smile … the smile showed Sonya another side of Broc, a side she longed to learn more about.
They walked the rest of the village in silence. When they reached the end, Sonya turned to start back toward the inn when Broc pushed her up against a cottage.
His hard body pressed hers against the cottage wall, shielding her. Instinctively she braced her hands against his chest. Beneath her palms she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart and the taut, hard muscles.
Fire licked beneath her skin, heating her blood and causing her heart to race erratically. It was always so when Broc touched her, and the more she stayed near him, the more her body yearned for his touch.
Sonya inhaled his scent of wind, of warm, sunny skies. She waited for him to caress her, to kiss her as she had dreamed of him doing since the first moment she had seen him standing outside Quinn’s chamber.
She could feel the heat of his skin through the tunic he wore. How she longed to be able to touch his bare flesh, to trace the line of muscles she felt beneath her hands, muscles she had seen countless times as he stood bare-chested before her in his Warrior form.
Slowly, Sonya raised her gaze from Broc’s chest to his face. He wasn’t looking at her as she had expected. His dark eyes weren’t filled with passion and desire.
It was the way he stared off into the woods which told her something had alerted him to danger. He was there to protect her, to ensure she returned to MacLeod Castle without incident. Regardless of what Broc wanted, he would see to her safety first.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Wyrran.”
EIGHT
It was all Broc could do not to lean down and take Sonya’s lips. Her hands on his chest, her body pressed so tightly against his. It was too much.
The yearning, the hunger for her was irresistible.
He had thought of nothing but protecting her when he’d caught sight of the yellow-skinned wyrran. But the moment their bodies had touched, Broc’s need to stroke, to learn, to claim Sonya warred with that of protection.
Rage bubbled within him, rage he knew came from his god. Yet, he couldn’t control it. He wanted to hunt the wyrran and rip it limb from limb for disturbing his time with Sonya.
“Are you sure?” Sonya murmured.
“Unfortunately. I couldna shake the feeling last night that something was near. Now I know what it was.”
He could sense her fear by the
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