Date Published: 4/10/2013
She will protect her identity with her very life if necessary. Who will protect her from herself?
Shoney's lightning speed with a bow captures Ronan by surprise, and their chance meeting ends with him lying unconscious at the bottom of a ravine. When he awakens, he cannot rid his mind of her startling beauty, her valor, or the secret fear he glimpsed in her steel eyes. He vows to find her, but as the mysteries of her identity unfold, his courage and heart are tested as never before.
EXCERPT
Shoney
gripped a large rock with one hand to keep from rising to the surface
and was hurriedly scooping handfuls of Dulse with the other, putting the
slimy clusters into the sack hanging about her neck. Dulse was her
favorite seaweed. Its translucent pink color was hard to spot, but it
grew in bushels at the bottom of her pool. If infused in a bath, it
soothed sore limbs, and its oil cleansed the skin, clearing away
unsightly dry patches. Satisfied she had gathered enough, she released
the stone and swooshed her arms, swirling in a circle. Her hair fanned
out, covering her face and wrapping around her waist.
The
sting from the icy water subsided so that she could truly enjoy the
feel of being submersed. The bottom of the deep pool gleamed with smooth
white rocks, which seemed to light the murky water. She was enclosed
inside rocks directly below her home where she knew none of the
clansfolk would ever dare to venture, allowing her to leave behind the
Witch’s cloak and every other stitch of clothing for that matter.
Nothing delighted her more than to feel the rush of cold water over her
bare limbs. Nothing made her feel more alive, but she was running out of
breath and knew she had to surface.
Her
feet touched down on the bottom, and she bent her knees, pushing
against the white stones to hasten her swim to the surface, but she did
not surge through the water as expected. Large hands grabbed her from
above, blocking her momentum. She seized with panic as she flailed
against her captor’s grip. The water churned, bubbling from her efforts,
but she was powerless against the strong arms that wrapped around her
from behind and pulled her against the unyielding hardness of a man’s
chest. Every corded ridge of muscle pressing against her naked back
shifted as he pushed off the bottom, propelling them both toward the
surface.
They
emerged from the depths, and he pulled them to the edge of the pool.
Shoney sucked air into her lungs. Too long had she been submersed and
now felt dizzy. Despite her reeling head, she lunged to escape the hands
still grasping her shoulders, but his hold only tightened. Then, for
the first time, she tilted her head back to look upon her captor.
“You”, she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” he said. “This is my island. What are you doing here?”
“Taking a bath”, she gritted.
She could not believe the giant, the one called Ronan, was in her pool.
How dare he invade her rightful territory. Fury consumed her but also
terror. Not only was she unarmed, but he was even larger than she first
realized.
“I am finished now”, she said. “So release your grip, and I will be on my way.”
“A bath she says.”
He
turned her around in his arms so she faced him. Then he wrenched the
sack from around her neck and threw it into the water. Shoney watched as
it sunk beneath the surface. “I have been searching the whole island
for you for a fortnight only to find you nigh drowning, leaving me no
choice but to dive in to save you.”
“Save
me? Is that what you thought? That I was drowning.” She could not help
laughing, but stopped when his hand slid down the curve of back.
Shoney
was suddenly very aware of her state of undress. Her curves were
concealed from his eyes by the water, but what he could not see surely
he could feel as his arms pressed her close. She gasped as she felt the
contours of his muscles shift against her skin. The heat of his body
provided warmth against the frigid water, and his arms seemed to touch
more than just her waist. They reached beyond her physical form,
satisfying a craving for contact, which solitude had entrenched deep
within her heart. He was powerful and intoxicating, and her response to
him was shocking. She never imagined a man would feel so good, so
strong, but she knew it had to be wrong. Shouldn’t she be outraged? She
had to escape his hold. Her hands pressed against his wide chest as she
thrust away from him, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Let me go, this is indecent”, she snapped.
“No more indecent than leaving me to die, lass. I was only trying to save you.”
“The
only saving I need is from you”, she hissed through gritted teeth.
“Release me. You have no claim over me or my body as I am neither your
wife nor your whore.” She renewed her struggles and shrieked, “Let go of
me.”
His
grip loosened slightly, and she felt the warmth of his breath as his
head dipped close to hers. His hand swept the length of her torso and
then gently caressed her cheek.
“I
know I need to let go of you,” he whispered. “I know that I am
disgracing you as well as myself, but I cannot bring myself to do so.”
She
met his smoldering gaze. His lips were but a whisper away from hers.
Try as she might, she could not take a deep breath. Her quick, shallow
breathing was unnerving. And then as he pressed her body into his, her
breathing was forgotten completely as was the cold water that encircled
them, the crash of the waves, and the call of the birds. All she was
aware of was his eyes, the closeness of his mouth, and the racing of her
heart. He slowly lowered his lips, taking possession of the soft skin
just below her ear. She closed her eyes, feeling a strange heat at the
place where his lips had been. His hot kisses trailed down the length of
her neck. The heat spread like languid fire throughout her body.
She
had never felt the strength of a man’s hands on her skin. Nor had she
ever known the tenderness of a kiss. Her breathing quickened. Her body
felt like it was swelling, preparing to burst, and she liked it. She
pressed herself closer and felt the crushing strength of his muscles as
her fingers explored his form. Her hands swept down his powerful arms,
sliding over muscled ridges. And then they traveled down past his lean
waist to stroke the length of his hard thigh, but instead of smooth, wet
skin, her fingers touched something cold and sharp.
Her
eyes snapped open, and her senses returned with a strength that would
have knocked her over had it not been for the water and the support of
his caressing hands.
Mother of all, what spell was this?
He
was even more dangerous than she first imagined, for he could control
her thoughts and her body. She had to break away from his embrace. Her
hand returned to his thigh, only this time she had no intention of
stroking his skin. She seized his dirk from its sheath and with a
practiced hand she thrust the pointed end of the blade beneath his chin.
She smiled ruefully at the small droplet of blood that appeared beneath
the dagger’s point.
“You keep your blade sharp. I thank you for this kindness.”
Lily Baldwin
Writing historical romance has been Lily's lifelong dream. She lives a quiet life in New England, surrounded by family.
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Thank you for hosting my book today! It looks great!
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