Determined to band Scots together against English tyranny, Laird Robert Graham seals a truce with his feuding neighbor, the MacDougalls. But after his brother is nearly killed in a treacherous attack, Graham kidnaps the laird’s daughter in an act of revenge.
Cameron MacDougall has devoted her life to the healing arts. She’s long rebelled against her father’s feuding ways, but when Robert Graham abducts her, she’s finds herself at the center of the dispute between their families. She expects the anger she feels, not the simmering attraction to the powerful warrior, or the love she develops for his clan.
Can she stop further violence between the clans with her escape? Or will she find her surrender leads to a lasting peace and her own heart’s desire?
Robert gently set Cameron on the ground, and she turned to face him. A bit dazed, she ran trembling fingers down the front of her gown. His hands lingered at her waist, and when he didn’t step back, she looked up to find him smiling.
“I believe ye owe me yer thanks, Mistress Cameron.”
At his mention of her name, she searched his face. “How do ye know me?”
He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling throughout his thick chest. “I make it my business to know all the bonnie lasses in the area.”
The men behind him laughed.
Her stomach tightened. She was no beauty. He obviously mocked her—in front of his men. Prickly heat tingled across her cheeks.
“I’ll catch up to ye,” Robert called over his shoulder.
“Oh, aye. Once ye’ve taken care of business,” one man asserted.
“Important business to be sure,” the other bantered.
The men chuckled as they nudged their mounts, then trotted down the path and out of sight.
Robert’s gaze lingered on her mouth before he raised it to her eyes. “I believe it’s customary to thank someone when they’ve helped ye.”
Cameron cleared her throat. “Aye, I do thank ye.”
He studied her lips again. “I had something more in mind. Ye know ye’d still be stuck in that tree if I hadn’t come along, so ye owe me.”
His warm breath caressed her face. He bent and placed his mouth on hers. His arms pulled her close, his muscular frame molding her body against his. Stubble scratched her skin, and she inhaled his male scent of leather, and aye, of horse.
She should be horrified at his advances. What was she thinking, allowing a Graham to kiss her so…so wickedly and deliciously? She should push him away and demand he step back, but somehow, she loathed the idea. Indeed, she reveled in the feel of his hard body pressed against hers.
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