Her Highland Beast: A Scottish Medieval Romance with a Fairytale Twist by Madeline Martin

Author:Madeline Martin [Martin, Madeline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

EVINA’S WORLD WAS GLOWING.

The smile on Duncan’s face gave her a strange, pleasant warmth, as if all the hurt and loneliness were melting into something more.

Her initial desire to lay with him had not lessened, but her fondness for him had left her unsure of herself. Dare she say shy?

She found herself studying his lips as he talked, and had on more than one occasion discovered his stare locked on hers, but the nervous fluttering in her stomach restrained her from encouraging physical intimacy with him. Never had she been able to take her time with a man like this before. But then, never had she met a man like Duncan.

“I enjoy yer stories,” he said when she finished telling him of Edinburgh. “Ye paint it so completely, I can see it in my head as if I’m there.” His brow furrowed and he frowned slightly. “It makes me appreciate what I’ve missed. Ye’ve had the world, and I’ve had this.” He lifted a hand to do a flippant, all-encompassing wave.

It had been too easy to forget Duncan’s confinement when travel was as much a part of her own life as breathing. The constant shifting of scenery, and faces, they flew by in a blur of weeks and months and years. Her palate was rich with the spice of exotic foods and her mind colorful with cultures and their people.

Yet for the wealth of experiences she’d had, she was a hollow void within. No home, no companionship. Merely a great void, echoing her perpetual loneliness.

She endeavored to smile, but knew it wilted beneath the hearty weight of her sorrow. “It isna as lucky as it might seem.”

He tore off a chunk of bread. “Traveling?”

“Traveling alone. No’ being injured. Watching those I know die. A lot of things others would consider fortunate that dinna feel so lucky.” She stared at the hunk of bread sitting atop her food, the bottom wet with a thick, brown sauce, the top dusted with spots of flour. It had been appealing when she’d first had it placed before her.

“As with being home, I’d wager,” she continued. “Many would consider ye fortunate to live in luxurious splendor, to no’ ever have to leave this quiet comfort. To have the companionship of a close friend over the years. I’m sure ye dinna feel lucky.”

Duncan scoffed and lifted a cup to his lips. His throat flexed with the swallow of ale. All of him was strong, she’d noticed. From the lined muscles of his forearms, to the powerful swell of his chest visible at the neck of his shirt and the broad expanse of his shoulders.

He’d claimed to not do much in his time at Duart Castle, but she’d seen him the prior evening in the courtyard, practicing the mettle of his sword and body on a wood frame. For his claims of inactivity, he had kept himself fine and fit.

And she had a deep appreciation for fine and fit.

“How is it?” he asked. “To be unharmed?”

The memory hit her like a punch and left the odor of blood in her nostrils.

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