Meghan: A Sweet Scottish Medieval Romance (Sweet Scottish Brides Book 2) by Crosby Tanya Anne & Crosby Alaina Christine

Author:Crosby, Tanya Anne & Crosby, Alaina Christine [Crosby, Tanya Anne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781942820307
Publisher: Oliver-Heber Books
Published: 2016-02-01T16:00:00+00:00

Like a wolf scenting his mate, the instant she’d descended into the hall Lyon sensed her presence, and his gaze lifted to find her watching discreetly from the foot of the stairs. And suddenly, he could hear not a word David was speaking to him, his attention wholly taken by the woman standing in the shadows.

“So it seems I misjudged MacKinnon,” David disclosed, somehow oblivious of their audience. He had erroneously chosen to kidnap the Laird of the MacKinnon’s son, hoping to hold him as a ward of the court so that they could better control the MacKinnon’s interests. It had been a mistake. MacKinnon had not only retrieved his son, but he’d absconded with the daughter of an English noble and had promptly made her his wife.

But Lyon was no longer listening.

Something like birds took flight within his gut, and his breath strangled within his throat as Meghan’s gaze settled upon him, her beautiful eyes slitting. Her chin tilted defiantly and she pushed away from the banister and marched toward them. His heart jumped.

“I can see now that it was a mistake to involve his son,” David continued, “but what has been done cannot be undone.”

Lyon nodded absently.

Meghan Brodie captured him as no woman ever had. She roused him... made his soul yearn for something... more.

He shook his head, trying to cast off the spell she wove over him. “Misjudged who?”

“Lyon?” David said, sounding vexed. “Have you not listened to a single word I’ve said to you?”

Lyon didn’t see the point in lying.

“Nay,” he admitted, but his eyes remained fixed upon Meghan’s lovely face as she marched toward them, her expression foreboding. Even ungroomed as she was, looking every bit the part of a madwoman, he thought her beauty unparalleled. Whatever else she was, whether mad or simply shrewd as the devil, she was unshrinking as well, and Lyon braced himself, expecting the worst. There was little worse to bear than the lash of an angry woman’s tongue.

David’s gaze followed his.

“You have a guest?” he said with some surprise, and then as she approached, undaunted, with fire flashing in her glorious green eyes, he turned to Lyon and asked, “Lyon... who is she?”

Lyon cast his friend a sheepish glance. “She,” he replied with some hesitation, “is the complication I was speaking of.” And he shrugged.

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