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Atlantic Bridge/Liquid Silver Books
www.liquidsilverbooks.com

 Copyright ©2004 Rae Monet

 First Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint ofAtlanticBridge , August, 2004
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 NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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 Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint ofAtlanticBridge Publishing,10509 Sedgegrass Dr,Indianapolis ,Indiana . Copyright 2004, Rae Monet. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors.

 This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  

 Prologue

 Scotland, 1311 A.D.

 One more life I was unable to save.

 Another Wolf Warrior death radiated through Richard's body and plummeted into his consciousness.

 He stared at his bloodied hands.

 These were the same hands that had absorbed the dying breath of the Wolf Warrior that lay before him, that had captured the young man's pain while attempting to revive him as Richard had for so many who had gone before this one.

 Richard's forehead fell against that of the dead warrior, while his tears ran unchecked down his face. The clear wetness of his agony joined with the warrior's red blood, carving a trench in the crimson.

 I can no longer do this.

 I can no longer absorb the pain of others.

 It wasn't in him any longer to perform his task as the Realm healer. He staggered from his knees to his feet, swaying from the immense effort of his rising. His sole thought was that he had to get away.

 I have to leave this place and my people.

 They would never understand, of course, his need to abandon his appointed vocation, but he must depart before it destroyed him entirely.

 * * * *

 Richard stood in silence, leaning against the door as he watched the scene before him between his sister and her new husband, Roan.

 He could not hear Roan's quietly spoken dialog, albeit the effect on his sister was unquestionable. He need not hear Roan's promises to know how deeply his words affected Serena as her hands desperately clung to Roan.

 Richard ran his hand through his long, dark hair in frustration and sighed in longing as he watched the couple. He knew he should leave them to their peace, but alas, what he needed to confide would not wait for the right time.

 He would leave immediately following their conversation.

 Richard hesitated, uncertain if he should turn and grant them their privacy. He began to pivot when Serena's command stopped him.

 "Richard?"

 He hated to spoil their moment.

 He approached Serena, who lay upon the bed, and knelt beside a smiling Roan.

 "She carries my child.” There was a sense of wonderment in Roan's voice.

 Richard laid his hand on Serena's stomach; taking deep breaths, he nodded.

 "Indeed she does. A strong man lies within her womb. The child is well. Serena, you must commit to eat more and rest well in the coming months. Angus, my apprentice, will be here to help you with the birth and all will go well. Do not worry.” Richard moved back several paces, distancing himself from his sister's emotions.

 Roan rose off his knees to drop down next to Serena on their bed.

 Richard was not outfitted in his traditional healer garb. He was dressed as a warrior, his great claymore strapped to his back, and his leather armor wrapped around his body. His leather gauntlet, courtesy of Robert the Bruce, adorned his arm. The gauntlet would assure his safety anywhere inScotland .

 Roan voiced the words. “I can sense the finality in this visit. You are leaving, Richard. Am I right?"

 Richard was immediately grateful that he had not been required to say them himself.

 Serena gasped.

 "Yes.” Richard sighed as Serena swiftly rose to her feet. He could sense the protest coming from her.

 Roan followed and wrapped his arms around her from behind, restraining her.

 "My path leads me to the Bruce's men where I will lend my sword to his cause. I have made a difficult decision in light of my feelings toward my profession. I am unsure how long I will be gone."

 Roan held out his arm for a final farewell. “ A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne."Roan spoke the Solarian vow. We protect our own.

 Richard clasped his arm back. “ A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne. Take care of my sister and nephew."

 Serena surrounded him with her arms. “I sensed your displeasure. I had hoped it was a fleeting emotion. I was denying what I knew to be true. I should have helped you more.” She shed more tears.

 Richard shook his head at her guilt.

 "Serena, I cannot even control my reaction to absorbing others; pain, the most essential element to my craft. I am disgusted at myself and the means that led me here.” Serena opened her mouth to argue, but Richard stopped her. “No, I must do this. If I ever hope to survive this profession, I must do this."

 "Take care, and return to us when you are ready. Take Caine and Greystar. Please.” She lent him her support as she always had.

 "I will, Serena, I will.” Richard stepped back with determination and raised his hand.

 He turned slowly and walked out of the protected Realm.

 He didn't look back.

  

 Chapter One

 Scotland, 1312 A.D.

 "Who is that man, Father? The one who stands apart from the others, back by the tree?” Megan inclined her head in the man's direction with a quizzical look. Her fiery wavy hair shifted and tumbled carelessly unrestrained down her shoulders to the small of her back.

 "Ach, Megan, dinna set yer heart on the likes of that one,” Megan father's responded, not fooled by the innocent expression on her face.

 "Tell me about him, Father."

 "Megan, I warn ye, I ken that look. He inna one of your sparrows or small animals to heal. He is a mon, and a troubled one at that."

 "Father,” Megan voiced her endearment with patience. Megan loved her father despite his constant harping about the injured animals she adopted.

 He had always told her, Megan McKinney, you have a big heart, and someday you will be hurt.

 She could never pass up an animal in need, or even a person, for that matter. Anyone who was hurt she was compelled to help; her father understood this about her.

 Megan knew well the tone he was using on her. He was warning her, as he always did. But Megan was in need of information and, by God, she was determined to acquire it.

 "Megan McKinney, I dinna like that look,” her father grumbled.

 "Tell me what you know of him, Father.” Megan gifted him with her most beguiling and innocent dimpled smile—the smile she knew he could not resist and that would, at last, break him.

 "Ach, Megan, you'll be the death of me, lass.” He grunted and shifted his gaze to the dark-haired man leaning against the solitary tree, single-mindedly polishing his claymore. He seemed oblivious to the others around him, and for some reason they gave him a wide berth. No one spoke to him. No one stood near him. No one even approached him. He was alone amidst a sea of celebration, and he seemed content to be that way.

 The McKinneys and the MacGregors, two age-old Scottish clans, had been feuding for so long that some had lost track of the story of how it had begun. Today, however, was different. The clans had gathered at a neutral location to witness the marriage of Megan's sister, Aimee McKinney, to Stephen MacGregor.

 The marriage was a love match. And at the agreement of the clan lairds, a truce had been forged between them, calling a halt to the fighting that had plagued them for so many years. The two lovers had no idea how important their union was.

 They were in love and only wished to be together.

 Megan McKinney was Laird McKinney's youngest daughter, and her heart was much bigger than he wanted it to be.

 She was a beautiful lass, and though small, she was strong and fierce. Her blinding red locks highlighted the freckles sprinkled across her nose and made her alabaster skin look as if she would break should she be touched. Her bright green eyes tended to crinkle at the corners when she laughed, which was often. And when she laughed, two dancing dimples graced Megan's cheeks, inviting people to laugh along with her. She was much loved by both clans. He sighed at her demand.

 She is always seeking trouble.

 "They call him the Raven,” Megan's father explained.

 "Why, Father?” Megan continued to stare at the lonely man leaning haphazardly against the tree.

 "They say he is marked with the bird of death. I know not what they mean, and I dinna question it. He is said to be savage in battle, almost as if he can sense the enemy comin'. It is a disturbing feelin’ just lookin’ at him. He dinna talk to others.

 "They know not where he came from. About one year past he joined the men of the Bruce and was given to the MacGregor clan as a peace offerin’ to fight for them. They gladly took him in, his skills being above all others. He is a mystery."

 Her father paused and then added ominously. “Most strangely, he dinna want people to touch him, and he dinna touch people ... if it can be avoided. He stays to himself mostly, and the MacGregors respect that. That is why he stands apart from the others, lass, and that is why they stand apart from him."

 * * * *

 Megan pondered her father's answer, and her next words slipped out of her mouth unconsciously, “Ach, but he is beautiful."

 At times of deep emotion, her brogue came out. Unlike her father, she tried hard to suppress it. She knew that it would serve her better to speak with more of an English accent.

 The English, in their fight for superiority, despised the Scottish people for what they termed their barbaric ways. Some Highlanders had been persecuted, some even killed, for speaking their native Gaelic. Some were punished for simply speaking with a Scottish accent. The English used any means necessary in an attempt to break the Scottish culture and force them to surrender their lives to English rule. Megan shook her head at the thought. And they call the Scottish ways barbaric.

 "MEGAN!” Megan's father spoke sternly. “I'm warnin’ you, lass. Dinna attempt to take that one in."

 The firm look he gave her left no room to question his order.

 She crossed her arms to mimic the man who had finally sheathed his sword.

 Despite her father's warning, Megan ran her hungry gaze over the warrior's entire body. He was a large man. His shoulders were so wide, she imagined they could block out the sun. His muscular chest, thighs, and legs showed firm through his leather breeches. She was surprised he wasn't wearing the clan tartan; it was an act of rebellion not to wear the plaid at a wedding.

 Although the English had outlawed the tartan, they were worn illegally for special occasions, such as the current marriage. But this man wore no plaid, and it also seemed he had no family. His dark hair fell against his forehead and over his shoulders, unbound and reckless.

 "Is that a wolf he has with him?” She eyed the gray bundle resting comfortably near the man's feet.

 "Aye, the wolf follows him everywhere. Seems to be a protector of a sort for him. He even takes him to battle. Just another barrier I suppose, between him and other people. That wolf willna let anyone near the man.” Her father rose at the call of the other laird to begin the wedding festivities.

 "Ach, I must be off, lass.” He kissed her on the cheek.

 "Aye, Father."

 The dark-haired man intrigued her, drew her to him. It was true she was known for having a big heart, and she knew it. She would find an injured animal in the forest and feel a compulsion to help, to heal. She hated to see anything suffer. For some strange reason she had the same feeling about this man.

 The man eyed the people around him, seemingly bored with the activities the others enjoyed. As her father had said, no one approached him; they left him to his solitude.

 He looks so lonely.

 There was something about the man that took her breath away. She didn't know if it was the way he crossed his arms in defiance. Or the way his leg lifted against the tree to brace himself, his muscles rippling. Or was it possibly the way he sheathed his sword or his forlorn gaze? She didn't know if it was these routine actions or just her big heart, but she was definitely attracted to him.

 She replayed her father's words. Dinna like to be touched,huh?

 She smiled and his eyes caught hers. She grinned at him. The man returned her smile with a frown. She inclined her head to him, her smile not dimming in the least. He did not return her nod, but rather dismissed her and turned his head as if he was trying not to acknowledge her greeting. Megan squared her shoulders and threw back her hair.

 Humph. If there was one thing that Megan McKinney loved, it was a challenge, and this man had just thrown her one. The brooding man glanced at her again and continued to frown. Dinna like to be touched, she thought again. Well, I'll just see about that.

 Suddenly the man's eyes alerted at the warning growl of his wolf. Quicker than Megan could blink, he brandished his sword in his hands. He eased it down when a stumbling drunk, Ewan MacGregor, approached him. His warning glance left no doubt in Megan's mind that he could kill Ewan instantly should he choose.

 Ewan's loud obnoxious voice could be heard over the noisy celebration of the crowd. Ewan, her future brother-in-law's second cousin, was a troublemaker. That was the best way she could think to describe him.

 "So, Raven.” Ewan's sneer was slurred but boisterous. She shifted closer to observe the confrontation. “Hear yer nae amenable to people touchin’ ya. Thought I'd just be checkin’ that fact."

 The man called the Raven slowly re-sheathed his sword as if Ewan were a pesky insect that posed no threat to him, but was one that he could simply bat away with a flick of his wrist.

 Megan's mind drifted back to when she had seen him draw that sword. All brawn and bravery, in that second, when he had brandished his sword and faced the possible threat of Ewan, the expression on his face, the dangerous lowering of his eyes, the lifting of his mouth in an almost snarl, the hardening and tightening of his honed muscles.

 Megan sighed when she relived it in her mind. It had been ... her hand drifted to her rapidly beating heart ... it had been arousing.

 Megan was stunned by her reaction. She had never felt that way about a man before. Although he had acted almost feral, he had been all man, through and through, ready to fight and protect. It made her feel feminine; she longed to be under that fierce male protectiveness with a craving that alarmed her. She yearned to be his possession to protect. Megan shook her head to deny her troublesome notions and watched the drama unfold in front of her.

 The attractive man pointed to Ewan with his gauntlet-clad arm. It was the arm of a trained warrior, veined and sculpted with flexing muscles. His finger did not waver as he warned Ewan.

 "I would not advise you to do that, my friend. It could be your last move."

 The threat was not given idly as he lowered his hand to the hilt of the sword he had just re-sheathed. The veins in his muscled arms stood out as he grasped the sword. His face was dark, intent, as if he could freeze Ewan with a simple glance. The man waved his hand, and his wolf stood directly between him and Ewan with an agitated growl, his teeth bared.

 "Although I do not need this wolf to protect me, he is the only one that keeps you alive right now.” The man's clearly enunciated words floated toward Megan.

 She sucked in a breath at his threat. She prayed that Ewan would ease down. Although she somehow knew in her heart that the man would not kill Ewan in his stupid drunkenness, she nonetheless felt the stern warning in his words that she hoped Ewan would not ignore.

 Megan let out a sigh of relief when Ewan stopped his progress. He realized, even in his drunken stupor, that he was treading on dangerous ground by playing with this man. He raised his hands in surrender and began backing away.

 "I ken ye meaning, my man, I was just funning with ya. I'll just be on my way, then.” Ewan stepped away, turned, and actually ran.

 The Raven removed his hand from his sword and, with a wave, the wolf relaxed his stance. She heard him murmur “wise man” before he settled himself back against the tree and took out his sword to continue his meticulous polishing. Megan stayed where she was, hoping to catch his eye so she could gift him with another of her best smiles.

 * * * *

 Richard crossed his arms and leaned against a tree as he contemplated just how much he hated these celebrations, especially the drunken sots who imagined it great fun to play with him.

 In the last year of his life, he had been dedicated to fighting. To killing, precisely. His new life was in direct contrast to his existence before he left the Realm. That life had been dedicated to healing, to absorbing the pain of others and making them well.

 But he had given up that life and he was resigned to that fact now.

 They called him the Raven, marked by death, and that was how he felt sometimes. Most respected his wishes not to be touched and because of his fighting skills, they left him alone.

 He examined the area in boredom. The wedding of the McKinney to the MacGregor was an important event in these people's lives and although he had to be present for the celebration, he didn't have to like it.

 As he glanced around, his eyes touched on the red-haired beauty that had been standing next to the McKinney clan chieftain.

 She was stunning and full of life. She emitted an energy that Richard sensed immediately. More times than most, he only used his senses in battle, but this time he reached out and let them touch upon this woman. He stiffened at the purity that he felt.

 Richard had not had intimate contact with a woman since he'd left the Realm, and his reactions to this striking woman told him his celibacy was finally catching up with him. He shook his head and looked away.

 I just need a good tumble, that's all.

 His eyes strayed back to her.

 Jesu.She was spectacular in the simplicity of her beauty. Her dark red hair blanketed her shoulders and fell to the small of her back. Dimples danced in her cheeks when she smiled.

 Her eyes had met his. She'd smiled and inclined her head. He had looked away, not wanting her to see the interest in his eyes. With her eyes alone, she had held Richard under a spell that he didn't like and yet was reluctant to break. He had no business involving himself with this woman or her clan. He wasn't about to open himself to anyone.

 He peered back again momentarily. She was still studying him, smiling at him. Her shoulders were back, reminding him of a woman who was both confident and bold. He grunted and leaned back, raising his leg to brace himself against the tree.

 God's Blood, she is gorgeous.

 Maybe he needed to find himself a woman to screw. There were plenty who had offered.

 He grumbled as he shifted his leg, repositioning it against his hardening cock. Getting involved with that one would definitely be a mistake.

 Jesu, I will be happy when this week of wedding bliss is over!

 Richard closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, trying to tame his wandering mind.

 * * * *

 Realizing that he was not going to acknowledge her, Megan wove her way toward her lone man through the throng of men and women dancing, playing Scottish games, and celebrating. They were all so involved in the festivities that they paid her scant attention.

 The handsome man had slipped down the tree, his arms crossed and his eyes half closed, as if in his boredom he elected to sleep through the merriment. The wolf lay at his feet, alert and on guard.

 Megan crouched down low as she approached the man. The wolf lifted his nose, sniffing the air, very much aware of her approach. He raised his head in warning, displayed his teeth, his body beginning to rise off the ground. She was not concerned.

 She had dealt with many wild animals and had never had problems taming them with her soft words and manner.

 Megan lifted her hand and raised it in front of her. She gave a small signal to the wolf to approach her.

 The man's eyes were closed and he hadn't noticed the departure of the wolf, probably so sure of its ability to protect him that he let his guard down when the wolf was near.

 The wolf raised his head, then tilted it to the side as if he were trying to read her. She waved her hand, giving him permission to approach.

 The wolf rose up on his legs and, head down, he slowly approached her hand. She didn't waver. She cleared her thoughts and attempted to project her positive energy toward the wolf. Bit by bit, he raised his head and closed his lips, sealing his mouth over his ferocious teeth. He daintily touched her hand with his nose. When she didn't move, the wolf came even closer.

 Megan showed no reaction. Somehow she knew that he was testing her, to see if he could make her afraid. He didn't. Megan loved all animals, and if she were to get close to this man, she needed to win the heart of his protector.

 He nudged her hand with his head as if giving her permission to pet him. She ran her hand over his velvety pelt as he edged closer, allowing her to place her arms around him.

 "So we have reached an understanding, my friend?” In response to her question, she received one very large lick directly on her dimpled cheek. She chuckled, patting his back.

 "Yes, I think we have,” she acknowledged. Her gaze moved from the wolf to the man. He was still sitting, his back against the tree, his eyes closed. Megan moved closer to him, not too close, though, as she didn't want to frighten him. It was the same method she took when she approached a wounded animal. Crossing her legs, she sank down in front of him about three feet away. His wolf sat down next to her, facing the man.

 "Good morning to you."

 Sea-green eyes opened and made contact with her darker green ones. He started pushing up with both legs, reaching for his weapon as he pressed himself against the tree.

 She saw apprehension in his eyes; then it was replaced by his usual complacency. He didn't say anything, but glared at the wolf next to her as he pulled his hand away from his weapon. The man gave a hand signal.

 The wolf barked and then left her side to sink down next to him.

 "May I join you?” Megan asked, watching the emotions cross the man's face. Annoyance was the primary sentiment among them.

 "I prefer you did not."

 She ignored him and held out her hand in introduction. “My name is Megan McKinney. And yours is...?” He paid no attention to her outstretched hand. Instead, he crossed his legs like hers and dropped his hands onto his thighs, showing her he had no intention of shaking her hand.

 "Yours is?” She persisted in her question.

 "Raven."

 His voice penetrated her mind. Ach, she thought, it was as sensual as the man himself. It reminded her of all the comforting memories that warmed her. It touched Megan's heart.

 Soooo sexy.

 "Raven, hmmm...” Megan dropped her hand. “And your real name?"

 He is so spectacular.

 Placing a hand to her chin, she stared. She could sit there and look at him all day and listen to the enchanting cadence of his voice.

 "Raven,” he said again, obstinate in his answer.

 "And your real name, then?"

 There was a flare of annoyance in his expression. “You are a persistent one, are you not?"

 She looked at him dreamily.

 Ohhhh, that voice has me mesmerized.

 It had a strangely appealing accent followed by a low, deep timbre. She slanted her head and smiled, giving him the full impact of her dimples.

 "And your real name?” she asked again, chuckling at his aggravation.

 "If I tell you, will you leave?” He stroked the fur of his wolf. Megan watched his hand in its progression down the wolf's back and was momentarily distracted from his question. His stroke was so gentle ... not the stroke of a warrior's hands. It was as if his hands were made for something other than swordplay.

 "Hmm?” She tore her eyes from his hands.

 "If I tell you my name, will you leave?” He enunciated each syllable as if she were simple.

 "Oh—of course.” She waited expectantly for him to give her the first victory. She watched him sigh while his eyes left hers and focused on his wolf.

 "Richard."

 "Ah, Richard.” The name rolled off her tongue as she smiled.

 "And your wolf?” she asked, holding his look again.

 "I thought you said you would leave if I told you my name,” he said, watching her warily.

 "Oh, that.” She waved her hand as if completely dismissing her promise. “I lied,” she said happily.

 First, he looked surprised, then angry; then, to her disbelief, he actually threw his head back and laughed. She sucked in a breath at the beauty of him. He looked so young when he laughed, as if ten years were taken off his face. He cleared his throat.

 "Caine,” he said, slowly stroking the wolf. “His name is Caine. He is my protector and obviously failing in his duty to let you by him."

 It was almost a full sentence and Megan sighed at the intonation of it. He was so magnificent. She could so easily love this mysterious, intense man.

 "You are so beautiful,” she said softly. His head snapped up and his stunning green eyes meshed with hers. For a moment neither spoke. She held her breath and cursed the uncontrollable tendency she had to speak bluntly of what was in her heart.

 But then Richard spoke. “God's Blood, you are bold, woman.” He was clearly surprised.

 "Yes, so I am told. Do you find it engaging?” she asked, playfully raising her eyebrows at him, just barely concealing her relief that he wasn't going to send her away. Or worse yet, just get up and walk away from her.

 "I find it bothersome, as I find you.” He picked at a rock on the ground and tossed it from hand to hand. She wasn't hurt by his insult. She knew he was purposely trying to push her away.

 "I'd like to show you something. Will you come with me?” Megan shifted herself slightly on the ground.

 "Must I?” His question was as lazy as his attitude.

 "Well, I might show you a place where you can be alone in peace, as you seem not to enjoy the company of others.” She swung her hand around, pointing to the people surrounding them. She was always amazed at the drunken stupor her people fell into when they celebrated.

 To Megan's relief, no one had even noticed them talking. Of course, as the youngest daughter she had much more freedom than any of her siblings. At times they just lost track of her.

 They expected her to go wandering into the woods wherever they were. Her father usually sent John to watch over her, but this week John had been distracted by a lovely blonde lass with whom he was clearly smitten. Megan had assisted the situation a little by pointing out the handsome John to the lass. She didn't mind his bewitched state. She enjoyed seeing him happy, so she had reassured him she wouldn't get into any trouble or leave the celebration alone.

 Of course, she had lied then, as well.

 Megan watched Richard as his eyes widened with expectation.

 "Truly, you wouldn't be lying again now, would you?” Richard asked. “And once you show me this place,” he waved his hand to mimic her, “where I might be alone, you will leave me as such, then?” He mimicked her brogue as if he were teasing her.

 "Aye,” she reassured him.

 He lifted his hand, indicating for her to precede him. “Lead on, then."

 Megan scanned the area again to ensure she wasn't noticed. She offered her hand so he could assist her in rising.

 Helping her, of course, would be the gentlemanly action to take. However, he ignored her hand.

 She finally rose of her own accord. Ah, she was beginning to see what her father spoke of. He didn't like to touch or be touched.

 She led him through a stand of sparse trees that began to thicken as they walked. She noticed that he kept pace behind her without much effort, not even breaking a sweat. She plodded along, glancing back occasionally to see if he continued to follow.

 * * * *

 Richard watched the stunning girl in front of him with wonder. Her well-shaped ass combined with the flare of red hair was giving his equilibrium problems. He hadn't felt desire for a woman in so long that he had almost forgotten the sensation, but he was definitely feeling it with this one small, fiery female.

 What possessed me to follow her alone into the woods?

 And what is it about her that makes me want to confide my problems? That makes me want to touch her, to offer her my hand and pull her off the ground into my arms?

 He shook his head in anger. He wasn't going to do this to himself; he refused to question the course he had set in his life.

 No, I will not do this.

 He halted for a moment. She stopped with him and slowly beckoned him with her hand and her smile. She was a wood nymph, that was what she was, and she was casting a spell on him with her fiery hair and beguiling smile.

 When he had awakened to her lilting Scottish voice, he had been almost scared ... which had surprised and annoyed him. He wasn't seeking to be close to anyone in his self-imposed exile. But her soft-spoken brashness had won him over, and at her quietly spoken confident assessment of herself, he couldn't help but laugh.

 It had felt so good, that laugh, that he was addicted to her the minute she provoked that emotion in him. He hadn't been happy in so long, and hadn't smiled or sought activities that might make him happy in even longer. It was as if he continued to punish himself for his inability to save those last few Wolf Warriors in that battle a year ago. As if he could somehow honor their death in his own continued misery.

 As a healer, his profession was the most revered in the Realm. But with his current feelings of failure, he wasn't interested in being honored. He was more engrossed in suffering alone in his own anguish.

 But this woman, with her dimpled smile and honest candor, had drawn him almost unwillingly with her to her secret place. As much as he told himself not to go, he couldn't maintain his distance.

 He wanted to go with her. To be with her.

 * * * *

 Megan halted to catch her breath. Richard stopped too, looking hesitant now, maybe not as confident in going with her any more. She smiled and gestured to him with her hand. She moved on and much to her relief, he followed.

 The trees had thickened some as they wove their way between them. Megan led them on a trail that she had followed since she was a small girl, one that was not far from her village, where she would often sneak away. She had found the hot springs by accident one day when she was following a wounded rabbit. Since then, it had been her favorite secluded place. Few knew of it.

 The trail widened when they came upon some thick bushes. After ensuring that Richard was following, she pushed her way in. The circle of bushes led the way to her much revered hot springs. Water gently bubbled from the earth, circulating and filling the large hole. Steam surrounded the area, making it appear almost dream-like in its entirety.

 Cool water fell gently down a sloped rocklike face, flowing into the hot springs like a cool breeze on a warm day. Lush plants surrounded the springs, thriving in the moist environment, ladling the water toward themselves to sustain life. In reward for their lives, they offered privacy to the occupant of the springs.

 She heard Richard's inhaled breath as he fell in next to her. She slowly lowered herself to the moss-covered ground at the edge of the water and plunged her hand into the springs, sighing and smiling as she swirled the water around.

 Richard sank down kneeling next to her. He didn't move—just eyed her activity. She turned toward him and smiled, continuing to run her hand through the water. She watched his eyes run over her face and then dip down to the top of her dress where the whiteness of her breasts showed as she leaned over. She blushed at his scrutiny and pulled back her hand.

 "Lovely, isn't it?” She truly loved the solitude this spring allowed her, and always had.

 "No doubt about that, my beauty,” was his only remark.

 Megan's head snapped around. She flushed. It was almost as if he wasn't talking of the springs. It was almost as if he was speaking of her. She closed off that line of thinking.

 She turned and sat in front of him, crossing her legs. She placed her elbows on her knees, cradling her face in her hands and stared at him.

 She studied his face.

 He had a golden tan, but she could tell that his usual coloring was light. She had to surmise that the sun of frequent battles had bronzed him. His sea-green eyes stood out from his face. They were truly incredible, like looking at a piece of the craggy isle waters. His hair was dark, although she saw a touch of red between his gently curving locks. His hair hung long and loose around his large shoulders. It fell forward when he moved and he made no move to right it when it dropped into his face.

 Megan had situated herself so that she sat close to him, so close that she could smell his scent—musky, but not in a bad way—a unique fragrance of him that unconsciously drew her. As if of its own volition, her hand reached out to touch his face. He watched her. At first she recognized the longing in his expression; then he jerked away from her hand, rose and walked away to stand several feet away from her, almost in a huff.

 "I thought you promised to leave once you brought me here.” He didn't speak of the incident, but just retracted into himself—behavior with which she was beginning to become familiar.

 Megan sighed in resignation. So it was true; he surely didn't enjoy being touched.

 "Why do you not like others to touch you?” She had always been honest in her dealings with others. She saw no reason to be any different with him. He walked to the edge of the water.

 "I have my reasons, Megan.” He was silent. She waited and hoped he would tell her more.

 "I am a very good listener, should you feel the need to talk.” He turned, and the tortured look he gave her made her stand and step toward him. He put out a hand as if to ward her off. She stopped. The hand was telling her not to come any further, and she knew he was serious this time.

 "I do not."

 "Now I will ask you to fulfill your promise and leave me be.” His voice had risen. She could tell he was agitated with her. She dipped her head down and frowned. Her cheerfulness faltered, causing tears to back up in her throat.

 What am I thinking?

 It was clear this man didn't want any company.

 "Of course, I'm sorry, I dinna...” She stopped and twirled to make her exit before he saw the tears she finally released. She started to walk away when his command stopped her.

 "Megan!"

 She didn't turn. She felt the wetness on her cheeks. She didn't want him to see what his bitterness had done to her. She heard his audible sigh.

 "Thank you, for showing me this.” There was an apology in his voice, but Megan still didn't turn. She heard him give a command to Caine, and then Caine was next to her, she assumed, to escort her home.

 * * * *

 Richard's heart squeezed in his chest as he watched Megan walk away. He closed his eyes in regret. He sensed the hurt he had genuinely caused her by his angry words, despite the fact she would not turn to acknowledge him. He ran a hand over his face.

 Why does it have to be this way?

 Why did he have to work so hard to push people away when he really wanted to pull them toward him? That's what he had wanted to do with Megan. He had wanted to draw her into his arms, slowly press his lips to hers and gently sip from the energy and goodness he sensed within her. It was very clear by her actions that she was enthralled with him. So why hadn't he let her touch him?

 Because I don't want to absorb her pain.

 He reminded himself what it felt like to touch another. The telepathic healing abilities he had been born with allowed him to sense others’ pain and from that knowledge help heal them. But what others didn't understand was that every time he sensed another's pain, he took it and owned it. He couldn't handle that anymore.

 He had been taking others’ pain into his heart since he was six years old, and it was slowly killing him. It was sucking whatever joy and happiness he had in his life directly out of him.

 So the only answer for him was not to let anyone close to him.

 But oh, this woman tests me to the very edge of my limits.

 When she raised her hand to touch him, he wanted to burrow his hands into the crimson of her hair and touch her back. He wanted to absorb every inch of happiness that she had ever experienced in her life, that she had ever worn on her face, into his heart and touch every inch of her soul. He wanted to do much more than that to her lovely body. He wanted to lick every drop of sweat from her skin and dip his tongue deep into her sweet wetness.

 He looked down and frowned at his aching cock. He cursed the fact the stiff organ wouldn't comply with his wishes to settle down.

 Christ, I'm going to have to do something about this.

 Slowly, he stripped off every inch of his clothes. Richard licked the palm of his hand and let it fall to his veined hardness. He caressed his dick, picturing the red-haired beauty on her knees before him, taking his cock into her mouth. Stroking deeply, pumping his cock as he strove to alleviate the need that the woman had brought forth in him, getting lost in the fantasy. He grunted and his hand pumped faster. His cum rose, pearling on the tip. He used his pre-cum as lubrication, running his hand up and down himself. Focusing on bringing himself to completion, he stroked faster. His heart stuttered, anticipating the explosion; his head fell back; his body tensed; it was coming ... His cum spurted out; Richard grunted, hoping this orgasm would help him find relief. He leaned into his pumping hand, pulling every last drop of moisture from his dick.

 Unfortunately, it didn't help. He still yearned for her.

  

 Chapter Two

 Shirtless men were wrestling, their kilts pulled between their knees; their women circled them, calling out for a victor. Megan laughed and wondered if the week-long celebration was simply an excuse to overindulge during such a dark period for her people. After fighting like savages for their cause, their freedom, and their independence, they plunged into the merriment as if it might be the last time they would feast and make merry.

 Her gaze left the wrestlers, seeking Richard. Yesterday he had returned from the springs with his wet hair cascading down his shoulders, but his demeanor had still been gloomy. He had made his bed apart from the camp that had been erected for the remaining MacGregor clan. Megan had watched a comely young blond woman take him some food. The woman had tried to get close to him to offer what Megan knew was more than a meal. He waved her away. The woman stomped off, while he stayed with Caine by his fire and whittled at a stick, seemingly content alone.

 Megan's mother joined her.

 "Have an eye for that one, do ya now, darlin'?” she whispered, a smile in her voice.

 Her mother, Adelaide, was small limbed, her glowing red locks surrounding her face in a halo of magnificence. Her features appeared angelic. She seemed delicate on the surface, but Megan knew the strength that flowed through her mother's veins. What she lacked in stature, she made up with in her temper and her kindness.

 "Da forbade me to talk to him."

 "Ah, did he now?” Her mother spooned their morning porridge into a wooden bowl. She handed Megan the bowl. “Now he dinna forbid you to bring him a morn meal, did he?"

 "Nay.” Her heart accelerated.

 "Go, my darlin’ girl. I'll handle your da."

 "Thank you, Ma.” Megan leaned forward and kissed her mother's rosy cheek.

 She greeted a few people but didn't stop as she wended her way to Richard's solitary campsite.

 She held out the bowl of porridge, as if in a peace offering. When he didn't reach out to take it, she realized why. He might accidentally touch her fingers in the exchange. She frowned and set the porridge next to him. In her mind she hoped Caine got to it before him.

 "A good morning to you,” she said.

 "Megan.” He stood.

 Megan was unsure why she felt the continued need to approach this man. He pulled her like the sun drew the flowers. She sat on an old tree stump across from him and pointed to the bowl.

 "My mother thought perhaps you were hungry this morn."

 He nodded and the corners of his mouth actually quirked.

 "Ah, your mother is like you then?” He picked up the bowl.

 "I hesitate to even ask for fear of insult, but how would that be?"

 "She has a big heart, my beauty, for lost causes.” He swallowed a spoonful of porridge.

 Megan watched his tongue flick out to clean a dollop of porridge from the corner of his mouth. She cleared her throat to keep from groaning at his actions. She almost wished she were that porridge. She shook her head.

 What am I thinking?

 "Humph.” She rose to her feet and waved a hand at Caine, who was lounging next to Richard.

 Patting her leg, she called the wolf to her. He came without hesitation. She squatted down to pet the near-extinct creature. Then she threw her arms around Caine's strong neck and nuzzled her mouth against his wide forehead. He nuzzled her in return with his wet nose and she laughed. Caine pushed her back against the stump in his play. Megan gently returned the push. He came forward and nuzzled her again, then started licking her face.

 She turned toward Richard and was rewarded with a lick to the ear. She laughed.

 "Oh, Richard, he is so beautiful. How did you come by him? Wolves have been hunted in England and Scotland for so long because of King Edward's decree. I haven't seen one since...” The longing in Richard's gaze stopped her words.

 He surged up, his empty bowl tumbling to the ground. His gaze never leaving hers, he knelt next to her, knees in the dirt. Caine stopped playing and stood still.

 Megan's hand rested on Caine's back and she watched in stunned silence when Richard's hand followed hers along the wolf's fur. He was so close, she could feel the heat of his hand radiating onto her. She lifted her gaze to his face and saw his eyes following his own movements.

 Megan froze, sensing she would startle him into running like a frightened animal. His hand stopped and rested next to hers. His fingers spayed out, separated from hers by a thin line of fur. Close ... they were so close.

 Abruptly, he pulled back his hand as if he had been burned. Megan let out the breath she had been holding. He moved closer. Two quick movements of his legs and they were kneeling eye to eye.

 "Caine is special.” His voice grew languorous. His hand lifted. Toward her this time, not Caine.

 Megan sucked in another breath as her eyes followed his movements. His hand raised level with her hair and he gently touched it, running her red hair between his fingers.

 "He is a protector for my people. He belongs to my sister. He was sent to protect me.” His eyes seemed to drink in the features of her face.

 "Protect you from what?” Her voice came out with the same breathy tone she might have used when soothing one of her wounded animals.

 He leaned forward, as if to catch the air from her mouth. Her hand fisted in Caine's coat to keep her from thrusting it into Richard's dark hair and kissing him with all her fierceness. She somehow knew he was closer to her than he had been to any one person and could almost smell his fear.

 She didn't budge and let him continue to explore.

 "He protects me from anything and everything,” he murmured. His scent permeated her senses. Her pulse beat so quickly she felt the throbbing in her wrist, against her throat, and pounding in her head.

 His gaze dropped to her throat, seeming to sense her rapid heartbeat. Then his eyes shifted to her lips. His eyes took on a drowsy appearance, his lids dropping to half-mast.

 She licked her lips. He hadn't kissed her but with his look, his breath on her lips, she felt as if he had.

 Did her nearness affect him as much as his affected her?

 "He need not protect you against me, Richard."

 "Oh, my beauty, that is where you are wrong. Very wrong.” His words puffed out against her lips, over her cheeks. He smelled like porridge and fine wine all combined into one.

 The hand that had been fingering her hair finally dropped next to his side. Then, as if he couldn't stop it, it lifted again and outlined her face, never touching, but so close she could feel a spark of heat.

 "I want to touch you, Megan."

 "I would very much like that."

 He paused and to her disappointment he pulled away, jumped to his feet and sank back down in his seat dropping his head in his hands.

 "I cannot. I wish I could explain but I cannot..."

 "Richard!” He raised his haunted light green eyes to hers, and she softened her voice. “I understand, think nothing of it."

 "Megan, I..."

 "I understand. Do not do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you ken?"

 He swallowed. “I ken."

 Megan nodded and standing, she moved closer. She had wooed many wild animals by simply stepping back and letting them come to her. Richard was like one of those animals. A wounded one. He was already close to coming to her; he just wasn't ready to take the next step.

 "Now, I have plans for us today and I willna be takin’ no for an answer.” She reverted to her Scottish lilt.

 "Do ya now, my beauty?” He imitated her accent, a smile touching his lips.

 "I do at that and,” she dropped down to her knees so she was eye level with him, “no touchin', I promise."

 He laughed. “I know how much those promises are worth."

 She pretended to pout, and then smiled. She placed her hand on her heart. His eyes followed her movement. Her heart gave a small skip at the hunger she saw in their green depths.

 "On my honor.” Her rapid breathing made her hand fall up and down on her chest. Finally, she rose to her feet, waving for him to follow.

 "A little fishing trip should help clear up that cynicism."

 He groaned. But she heard him sheath his sword and step after her.

 Megan glanced around. Her family was occupied, no one would notice them slip away.

 "I fear I will regret following you today, my beauty."

  

 Chapter Three

 Megan plopped down across from Richard at his camp the next day. It was the third day she was going to spend with him and she grew fonder of him with each passing moment. The previous day they had spent a relaxing, lazy afternoon at the surging river showing Richard her technique for catching fish.

 He had finally calmed under her gentle wooing. His persona took on an almost peaceful quality.

 Gone was the warrior that he had proven to be on the battlefield and in its place was a gentle, tender man. One who cringed when she baited her hook with live bait. When she gutted a fish, he appeared squeamish. Megan had to laugh at him. Except to describe his sister and say his home was in Scotland, he spoke little about himself.

 Once, when she was laughing at Caine playing with the whitecaps in the river, she looked up and saw Richard watching her intently. As if he had been caught stealing sweets from a baby, he quickly turned away.

 "Good morn to you, Richard,” Megan said as she set down his breakfast bowl.

 "Good morn, Megan.” He actually smiled at her and waved a hand toward the stump, which had become her chair.

 "Your mother again?” he asked as he took the meal.

 "Of course.” Caine moved in to greet her and she put her arms about him. She watched Richard's eyes soften at her movements.

 "So how long?” he asked between bites.

 "How long what?"

 "How long have you burdened your family with your candor and huge heart?” He was teasing her.

 "How long have you wanted to be a warrior?” she shot her question right back at him. She realized she constantly surprised him with her frankness. “Richard, I sense you were not meant to be a warrior."

 He appeared stunned by her insight. “What makes you think that?"

 She shrugged. “I just do, that's all."

 Richard laughed. “Perhaps you are right, my beauty, but this is the path I have chosen."

 "Well, ‘tis a foolish notion."

 "All right, enough about my life. Answer my question."

 "I'm afraid it's been all my life that I've troubled my family.” She sighed and took up her usual posture—elbows on knees, her face framed in her hands. “I cause my father much anguish when I bring home every injured breed of animal the forest has to offer. And I have always spoken what's in my heart."

 He stopped eating and stared at her.

 "So you're a healer of animals are you, my beauty?"

 "Some say I have a gift. I say I just have patience,” she said as she grabbed Caine's face and mussed his fur. Caine growled good-naturedly and began to play with her. “Don't I, Caine? I'm not gifted, simply too addlebrained to be afraid."

 She pushed the wolf and growled at him. Caine sprang forward, grabbed the material above her arm and gently shook it. She chuckled and pulled her arm away from his teeth. Her sleeve tore, and she laughed.

 She dropped to her knees and put her arms around him, kissing his face. “Aren't I too silly to know better, Caine?” When he licked her face in response, she laughed again.

 * * * *

 Richard laughed too, the sound rusty. He set the bowl down and watched Caine with Megan. He had never seen the wolf so lighthearted. Caine was very serious about his job. He had never played in the Realm, nor had he ever done so with Richard. But this woman brought out the joy in his wolf and took him back to when he was a pup.

 She was so exquisite, this beautiful woman, inside and out. She had charmed him as thoroughly as she had charmed his wolf. As she wrapped her arms around Caine's body, Richard groaned, wishing it was him her body was surrounding.

 Yesterday, when she had touched Caine, he had been so overwhelmed with the need to feel her.

 His memory took him back ... He ran his hand next to her arm. Her heat and positive energy had jolted though his system, and he hadn't even touched her. He jerked away, only to be drawn back to her again. Kneeling before her, he touched her hair. He smelled her sweet scent ... like honey and heather.

 The unique aura that surrounded Megan engulfed him and held him in an enchantment. He shook with the longing to touch her. He watched her small pink tongue come out and wet those incredible pink-pouting lips and he had wanted to take them then.

 It was an elemental, almost savage feeling. He pictured her small naked body entwined with his. He could taste the touch of his lips on her rapidly beating pulse and smell her woman's scent.

 He moved closer. So close he could feel her breath against his lips, hear the magic lilt of her voice. See the dark green of her eyes, smoky with her longing.

 He groaned now and closed his eyes, trying to clear his senses and the picture in his mind of this woman sensually wrapped around him in every way.

 Richard had vast experience with women. His extraordinary looks and honored position in the Realm had brought him many choices as to who would warm his bed. This woman, however, unmanned him. He couldn't free his mind of her as he did other women he had desired.

 "Richard, are you well?” Her voice brought him back to the present.

 "I am well, my beauty. Do not fear."

 "I have a place to take Caine today if you would allow it,” she said, sitting back on her stump. “It will give him a bit of freedom to run. Will you join us?"

 Her question punctured his thick skin and went directly into his heart. She was irresistibly innocent in so many ways. Richard decided it was that innocence that drew him so strongly to her. She needed a protector and for some reason he felt a strong need to do just that, to safeguard her.

 He nodded at her request. “I cannot guarantee my mood, lass."

 Her eyes sparkled and she hopped up. “Richard, can you ever promise your mood?"

 Not waiting for his answer, she peered around. He assumed she was checking to see if anyone noticed them. Then she ran ahead, her fiery red hair swinging behind her. His mouth open in a wolfish smile, Caine loped after her. Richard shook his head as he trailed behind them, the noise of the wedding celebration growing faint.

 * * * *

 Richard leaned against a tree and watched Megan play with Caine in the vast field of heather. Purple flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, mile after mile of heather mantling the ground. The ball Megan had constructed from a hemp rope flew through the air. Barking, Caine chased after it. She trotted over to Richard and tumbled to the ground as Caine retrieved the ball. The wolf raced back and dropped the ball into her lap. Megan tossed it to Richard. He groaned when the sticky mess fell into his hands.

 "Ugh, Megan."

 She chuckled. “Throw it for him. You can heave it much farther than I.” She rolled flat on her stomach, propped her pert face into her hands and stared at him in adoration.

 He sighed and stood and threw the ball as far as he could. Caine chased it, his tongue flapping out of his open mouth.

 "That will keep him occupied for a short time.” Richard sat back down, gazing at Megan. “With you about, you would think him a pet, not a trained protector.” He shifted his gaze to watch Caine run.

 "I am so drawn to you, Richard."

 He stared at her in shock. For a moment he actually sputtered in his response. “Megan, must you be so forthright? It unnerves me."

 "Truly?” She tilted her head in an expression he was becoming familiar with. “Well then, tell me about why they say you are marked by death?"

 Richard sighed in relief; this he could answer. It was safer ground than thinking of running his hands through her auburn locks.

 "I have a mark on my shoulder.” He lifted his hand over his head and touched the back of his right shoulder. “Some say it resembles the black bird of death.” He shrugged, not caring one way or another what others thought.

 "Is it from your people?” She bent her legs up at the knee, swinging them back and forth.

 He sighed; there was just no avoiding this bonny lass's questions. “Yes,” he answered, hoping he had appeased her curiosity.

 "May I see it some day?"

 "No, you may not.” He attempted to look fierce.

 "You are special to your people, aren't you?"

 She shifted subjects so quickly Richard automatically answered. “Yes.” Then he cringed when he realized how much he had revealed.

 "Why did you leave?"

 He turned his head to the side, closing his eyes to hide a flash of pain.

 "Megan, cease with your interrogation!"

 Caine returned. Megan jumped up and returned to the field, waving to Richard as she bounded off. He automatically raised his gauntlet-clad hand at her and waved back. He shook his head but could not stop a smile. She was infectious with her energy.

 Richard loosened his leather gauntlet and surveyed the marks tooled on the inside. One was the crest of Robert the Bruce, given to him for his faithful services as a healer of Robert's people. This crest allowed him safe passage throughout Scotland.

 It seemed like so long ago that Richard and his sister, Serena, traveled each fortnight from their secret location in the Highlands to a pre-arranged location to meet Robert. He had saved many of Robert's war-weary people from death.

 He traced the two interlocking circles, the sign of his people, the Solarian symbol. These circles signified long life and happiness. Megan's laughter distracted him. His eyes traveled from the gauntlet to her frolicking in the field with Caine.

 I could be happy with her.

 With this beautiful woman, so full of purity and cheerfulness, he could definitely be happy ... if he could just let her in.

  

 Chapter Four

 Megan quietly made her way through the forest as she approached the springs.

 She knew that Richard had gone there. She had been following him, watching him, studying him for the past three days. She had watched his every move, every look, had worked so hard at trying to draw him into talking to her, to make him touch her. But the stubborn man had resisted.

 Now she was determined. She crouched down low behind the bushes that lined the spring.

 She saw him. Her heart hitched in her chest.

 Stripped naked as a newborn bairn, he lay on his stomach. He seemed to be sleeping, absorbing the rays of the sun. His body glistened from a recent dip in the springs. Small specks of water clung to every inch of his muscles as they slowly dried on his skin.

 Megan slowly let her breath out. He was spectacular. Her gaze feasted upon the planes of his sculpted body. She had seen bared men before—she had three brothers—but with this man it was different.

 Each groove, each indentation, every inch of his lightly tanned skin drew her attention. She felt her heart speed up as her eyes ran down his hard body.

 Her perusal stopped at his shoulder. She saw a dark mark that appeared to be a tattoo of some sort. She couldn't make out exactly what it was at this distance, but she was intent on discovering what so many others had said was the mark of death.

 Using the skills she had mastered as a child, Megan silently slipped up to him.

 Resting two feet from Richard, Caine lifted his head. He saw her, and the fierceness in his eyes changed to welcome. Then he sighed and rested his head back between his paws.

 It was easier to win the favor of the wolf than the man.

 Megan stopped her approach a foot away from Richard. He hadn't moved. Megan had noticed his fatigue earlier. His face was turned toward her and she studied the lines of it. His skin was golden, lightly tanned. His dark hair spread free onto his shoulders with that slight reddish tinge, contrasting sharply against his sun-kissed skin. The combination was alluring.

 His hawk-like, chiseled features had drawn her in from the first moment she saw him. The wonderfully striking green eyes behind those closed lids reinforced the pull. At times he appeared so sad and lonely, she would do anything to make him smile. Sell her soul, if need be.

 She saw his mark clearly now. Two intertwining circles with a sword running between them and a black raven lying on top. So that was the mark they said was death.

 Megan shook her head in disbelief. It was beautiful.

 Her eyes ran over his body. In the three days she had known him, he seemed to regret every word she coaxed from him, and sometimes he regarded her as if her smiles were more lethal than the tip of a sword. Megan reached out tentatively, hesitantly at first; then her fingers lightly skimmed his shoulder over his mark.

 Rough yet soft, and cool yet hot. When the flesh of her fingers met the flesh of his shoulder, the sensation was so strong she felt as if she had been burned.

 The flaming sensation began at the tips of her fingers then fanned out and ran up her arm. She sucked in a breath, hoping, praying she would not awaken him. He murmured and moved slightly under her hand. But he did not awaken, so Megan released her breath.

 Her hand became bolder.

 Her fingers fanned out, running over his shoulder, tracing the design of his tattoo. She was fascinated by it and by him. He was so different from her, yet in some ways so alike. She wanted to touch more of him. She wanted to run her hands all the way down his strong back to his steel tight buttocks. She wanted to plunge her hand into his dark hair and hear him sigh with pleasure.

 What am I thinking?

 Megan quickly pulled back her hand at her thoughts, holding it to her rapidly beating heart.

 She had never had carnal thoughts about any man before. Why this man?What was it about him that touched her heart so deeply?

 He continued to sleep, Caine by his side. The water that had dampened his skin was drying.

 I wish I were that water. Running down his body, heating his skin before cooling it.

 She shook her head. Unable to resist, she reached out her hand again and laid it on his shoulder. She smiled at his moan. Her hand ran lightly down from his shoulder to his spine, a path she had longed to take since she first saw him.

 Suddenly, Richard turned.

 Megan was under him with a dagger to her throat before her scream rent the air. His eyes sharpened and the dagger that pressed against her throat pulled back an inch.

 "Megan. What are you about? I could have killed you.” The worry in his expression touched her heart. He didn't release her immediately. It was almost as if he couldn't. The length of his body lay atop hers. His legs were clamped around hers in a defensive posture. The arm that didn't hold the dagger was pushed against the side of her head so she couldn't move.

 He could have killed me in that moment, she thought. Finally he sighed and dropped the dagger.

 "You would not have killed me,” she said with confidence.

 She saw a quirk of his lips as he tried not to smile.

 "How do you know that?” His other hand came up to lie next to the side of her head. She was his willing prisoner. He pinned her arms to her body, surrounding her, holding her, his beautiful light green eyes scanning her face.

 "Because I know you. I know you better than you know yourself. I know that you are not a killer."

 "You know naught about me!” His face jerked closer to hers as if to emphasize his point.

 "Yes, I do.” She loosed her arms and grasped his hand, pulling it to her breast, toward her heart. He resisted her actions, tugging against her hand. Her eyes met with his and she told him with her eyes that she wouldn't hurt him, just as she did the animals she tried to soothe. She told him to let her touch him.

 His resistance slowly ebbed. She placed his hand right below her breast where her heart was beating.

 "I know you in here. I know you in my heart. I feel you there. I feel your gentleness. You're not a killer."

 * * * *

 Her hand was on top of his as she connected with him. Her heart was beating frantically. He had not touched someone like this in over a year. He feared this connection. He rebelled against the pain it would bring him.

 "Touch me,” she whispered. “Really touch me. Open yourself and feel me."

 Richard tried to snatch his hand away. His heart raced. He feared what would happen if he released his senses and touched her in the way that she asked. His body began to tighten and tremble, but she wouldn't allow him to pull back his hand. She kept hers on top of his, forcing his hand to remain.

 "Megan, I cannot,” Richard growled, agony in his voice. “You don't know what you ask of me.” He stopped before he revealed any more.

 He began panting as his fear mounted and started to claim his body. Her hand came up and she lightly ran it over his throat and onto his cheek. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her hand against his cool skin as she heated each inch of the flesh she touched. It had been so long since he had let someone touch him like this.

 "I think I do know what I ask. You have nothing to fear from me.” Her breath caressed his neck. “Touch me, Richard."

 This time he couldn't resist. He felt caught like an animal in a snare, but he could not deny her sweet request. He so badly wanted to touch her. He had wanted to since he'd laid eyes on her. It had been forever since he had touched anyone in that way, yet he still feared the reaction, feared the pain.

 He reached his hand out tentatively at first. Then his mind decided. He plunged his hand into her hair, bundling the mass in his hand, and he truly touched her.

 He groaned in anticipation of what was to come as he opened his senses to the touch. He waited for her pain, her unhappiness, any past deaths she had experienced. He waited to absorb these emotions, as was his gift.

 His body tightened in panic and expectation. He held his breath and his eyes met with her green ones. He waited in agony. He waited for the pain he was sure would explode in his head and eat at his gut. He waited and watched while he noticed the rise and fall of her chest. She was breathing as heavily now as he was. She looked just as frightened as he felt.

 His hand tightened tenderly in her hair. A warm sense invaded his body starting at the tip of his hair and radiated though his chest and settled ... he groaned at where it settled. He broke into a sweat as his cock swelled against her body.

 But then—he didn't feel any of the agony he had expected to rip through his mind and his gut. There was no pain, no bad memories, no unhappiness. All he felt was desire—deep, pure, white-hot desire. It blanketed his body, stoking a fire in his belly.

 Richard watched Megan as he hardened against her. He threw back his head at the joy of her touch and truly laughed.

 God's Blood, he was drunk with this feeling.

 For the first time in his life, he felt an all-encompassing desire and pleasure rather than another's pain. It was frightening. It was exhilarating. It was so many things that he couldn't even fathom how to identify it. His craving for Megan seemed to block his ability to sense her pain. Never, never had he experienced this before.

 "Ah, Megan, my beauty, I think it would be wise for you to leave. Right now."

 "Ach, but I never do what is wise. I always do what is in my heart."

 His smile died. He leaned toward her. Then her hand on his back moved, running the length of his spine to settle on his bare buttock.

 "I am reckless that way, you ken that,” she whispered against his shoulder as she placed a gentle kiss there. Her Scottish accent flowed over and through his desire-soaked mind. “Keep touchin’ me and dinna stop."

 "If you do not leave now, I do not know if I can stop touching you,” he ground out, aflame with a blazing heat for her.

 "I know.” Her other hand ran down his back too.

 "You do not know what you are doing!” Richard cried as her hand squeezed his buttock and he instinctively thrust his hard cock forward. “God's Blood,” he cursed, his body burning with longing and desire.

 Unable to stop himself, Richard's lips closed the distance between them, breath by breath until he settled against her soft fullness. He squeezed his hands in her hair and angled his head to deepen the kiss.

 It wasn't enough. Without hesitation, his lips began savaging hers, rapidly devouring, kiss after kiss. Nibbling, tasting, it was as if she were a fine wine he could not stop drinking.

 "God, Megan,” he murmured as his lips continued to move over hers, kiss after kiss, touch after touch. He felt the small palms of her hands moving up to his shoulders to clutch at them, then wrap around his body.

 All Richard could feel was her need. He sensed the longing that answered his own.

 "Megan, Megan, Megan,” he chanted as he tried to put some sanity into their situation. He lifted his head, the green of their eyes locking. Her lips were rosy red and wet from the touch of his mouth against hers.

 "We must stop,” the words tumbled out even as he gave in to the pout of her kiss-swollen lips and devoured them once more. His hands moved to cover her breasts, stroking the mounds under his hands. She moaned and arched just slightly.

 Richard kneaded her breasts and his lips shifted to move down to her jaw, feather light kisses lapping at her alabaster skin. He was intoxicated with the flavor of her, with the smell of her, with the desire he sensed in her.

 His mouth moved to the sensitive area where her neck and shoulder met. He paused, trying hard to stop himself. His lips rested against her skin, his breath heaving out of his chest.

 He closed his eyes, attempting to rein in the too long repressed feelings that were unquestionably out of control. Now that he had touched her, now that he had tasted her, he knew a whole different type of torment besides absorbing someone's pain. Trying to calm his frantically beating heart, he took several deep breaths and ceased all movement.

 "Richard?"

 Her small hands delved into the darkness of his hair. He groaned and pressed his cock into her, pushing.

 She was testing his resolve, that much was certain. Richard launched off her so quickly that she cried out. He grabbed his breeches and donned them but not before she got a good look at his hardened body.

 He reached out his arm to help her up. She tentatively stretched out her hand, and he pulled her to her feet so fast his bare chest rubbed against her. He enfolded her into his arms, his head resting on top of hers. He sighed in satisfaction. Only then did he release her and lightly pat her behind as he pushed her toward the trail leading back from the glen.

 She turned and must have realized he was making her leave for her own good, as well as his. He jerked his head, smiling at her, telling her to leave with his actions.

 "Please, my beauty, test me no more today,” he pleaded, his voice breaking at the end.

 She nodded, and Richard watched her pull her dress back up on her shoulder. When had he taken that down? He had been out of control. He was still hard with desire for her; even now he wanted to wrench her back into his arms and make slow burning fervent love to her all night.

 He jerked his head again toward the trail. “You are too passionate for your own good. I do this for you. Please understand."

 She smiled with that dimpled look, the one that melted his heart.

 "Will I see ya on the morrow then?"

 "Aye, you will, do not doubt that,” he reassured her. Her eyes strayed down, caressing his naked chest.

 "You touched me Richard, you really touched me.” Her mouth broke out in a fantastic grin.

 He grinned back. “There is no question about that. You are much too sweet and vulnerable, which is why you are now leaving."

 He pointed to the trail once more.

 She took one small tentative step toward him and he exhaled noisily. She took another and another until she stood before him. Her bright red hair was fluffed around her head like a halo. She laid a small hand against his chest and he moaned at her touch. Pleasure shot through his body. Only pleasure, no pain. Only extreme enjoyment, no agony.

 "If I leave, will you touch me again?” The tips of her fingers traced gentle circles on his chest.

 Richard raised his hand and tenderly pressed it against her cheek. She was so soft, so warm, it was as if she had been made for his touch alone.

 He watched his hand as it explored, running down her cheek over her ear to cup the back of her neck. He felt her shiver all the way to his toes and he knew it was from her gratification of his touch. He gently delved his hand into her hair. Pulling her face to his, he rested his cheek against hers.

 "Oh yes, my beauty, I will definitely be touching you again,” he whispered into her ear. He felt her smile against his face, aware of the dimples deepening in her cheek.

 "You need to go now.” He lightly pushed her away from him, and guided her to the beginning of the trail. His hand reluctantly released hers as she stepped away.

 He nodded to Caine and the wolf slid in close to escort her. When she was ten feet away she pivoted and waved her hand. He waved back.

 Sending her away had been probably the hardest action he had ever taken in his life. When he was sure she was gone, he dove under the cold water of the cascade.

 It did little good.

  

 Chapter Five

 Hiding behind bushes, the three dark-haired men followed the exquisite red-haired woman with narrowed eyes. She was the youngest of the McKinney laird's daughters and certainly the most beautiful.

 Returning from one of several trips she had taken to the springs, she passed them in the bushes. They stepped back slightly. The wolf at her side raised his head to sniff the air.

 A predator itself, the wolf instinctively sensed a threat. They held still, not daring to even breathe as the wolf growled in anger. The girl stopped and crouched next to the animal. She put her arm around it as if to assure him all was well. He stopped growling. She stood and began walking. The wolf followed her, but the fur along his back was raised straight and his head kept turning as he surveyed the area.

 The men looked at each other and smiled.

 They knew just how to re-kindle the feud between the MacGregors and the McKinneys. If they kidnapped the redhead, the MacGregors would be blamed for sure. The treaty between the two clans was tentative at best. And no one would ever find out the truth.

 The leader's eyes gleamed as he studied Megan's young and energetic body while she maneuvered though the trees. Maybe he would allow her to make it back, he thought, but ruined and broken in spirit. When her family saw her so defeated, they would start another war that would never end.

 Yes, kidnapping her as a member of the opposing clan is perfect.

 Ream Grogan was known for his brutality and cruelty, and it didn't stop with women. He didn't have any squeamish thoughts about taking this wee bonny lass. By inciting the two clans to kill each other off, he would strengthen the English hold on Scotland.

 The English understood internal fighting would weaken the Scottish, making them easier to capture. Maintaining a feud between these two clans was vital to Ream's plan. For his reward, the MacGregor and McKinney castles and lands would be his.

 It had been promised to him by the English king.

 He would not fail.

 * * * *

 Megan was alone in one of the tents, clearing up the mess left after helping to prepare the noontime meal for the hungry clans. Her sisters had been tasked with delivering the repast. Megan enjoyed the needed respite from their constant chatter.

 She was bending over a pot filled with stew when a hand covered her mouth. She started to fight. Then Richard's scent wafted to her. At the same time she saw Caine. Her struggles stopped and she smiled against his palm.

 He dropped his hand from her mouth and his arms encircled her from behind while his lips claimed the pulse at her neck.

 "Richard.” She sighed as he slowly turned her in his arms. His kisses continued to run from her neck to her jaw.

 "Were you expecting another, my beauty?” He continued his lazy exploration.

 "Ye're touchin’ me.” She moaned, her emotions bringing forth her brogue. His lips finally claimed hers. Her hands reached up to tangle in his hair while his lips continued to assault hers. Very gently, his tongue reached out to touch her lips. Her mouth opened as she gasped in surprise.

 He took advantage, his tongue plunging into her mouth. Her tongue in turn delicately touched his, testing her power and his response. She heard him groan against her mouth as their tongues danced. Her body tightened in anticipation of something much more heady than a kiss—yet she wasn't sure what.

 "I dreamed of touching you all night and all day,” he finally said when he drew back from the kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers and softly panted, as Caine might do on a heated day.

 "I've created a beast.” She laughed, her breath mingling with his as he chuckled in response.

 "Do you have plans today?” His voice flooded Megan's mind, and she sighed. There was something about his voice that drew her in just as strongly as his appearance. It was as if God had made this man just for her.

 He moved her back against the wall of the tent and his arms locked on either side of her head, essentially keeping her hostage.

 Megan glanced around to see if anyone was coming. Her family was so large, they had seldom noticed her disappearing with Richard during the last three days.

 "Only with you."

 * * * *

 On the surface, one might have assumed that this day progressed much as the previous three had.

 This time, however, their relationship was different. Richard was now free with his touch and stroked and handled her frequently. So much so, Megan burned with the heat he kindled in her.

 He held her hand and often touched her face. His kisses sent her to an entirely different place than where she was standing. It was as if he had been denied for so long, he couldn't get enough. He was starving for companionship and the simple touch of another person. Now he had been fed and he was gorging himself with the sensation of his caress against hers, his skin touching hers, his lips tracing hers.

 And when the sun sank behind the faraway rocks and twilight appeared, they stood, hand in hand, and watched.

 "The sunset will never be so spectacular again,” Megan said. “Everything is more wonderful with you by my side."

 He smiled and hugged her to him in a bone-crushing embrace.

 She melted against him. At that moment in time, Megan's world was perfectly complete.

 * * * *

 The next day, Megan was washing her clothing in the springs when someone grabbed her from behind, raising her off the ground. She knew immediately it wasn't Richard. The hold was too rough. Arms squeezed her so hard she gasped for breath, so tightly that she couldn't scream or even breathe, and so roughly, she thought her ribs were breaking.

 The villain wrapped a cloth around her mouth and eyes, then a rope around her feet. She felt the prick of a knife against her arm, then the warmth of her own blood spilling out. A cloth wiped her where she bled.

 She was dumped on the hard ground. Unable to see or cry out, she twisted back and forth until her head struck a rock and she saw stars.

 Over the sound of her panicked breaths, she heard voices with Scottish brogues whispering to each other, but they seemed to come from far away. Then the voices stopped. Fingers dug into her bodice and ripped it, pulling her dress off her body, leaving only the scanty covering of her undergarments. The cloth stuffed in her mouth muffled her scream, making the sound softer than the moan of a newborn babe.

 "Ah, she's a beauty.” A hand touched her breast, and she squirmed away. Someone laughed, and another voice said, “Quiet, you fool. You want to be caught and hanged?"

 Megan tried to scream again against the gag in her mouth, even though she knew it was futile. Shivering from fear, she told herself this was a nightmare and wasn't really happening. Then she was hauled up and thrown over a large, very smelly shoulder. The man started walking. Her heart pounded inside her chest as she tried to wiggle off. She was tossed onto a horse, her body hanging head down.

 She continued to struggle until something hard and heavy struck the side of her skull. Everything went black.

 * * * *

 Ream smiled and threw the torn dress onto the boulder directly below the camp of the McKinneys. It would be easily found there. He took the plaid he had stolen from a MacGregor and ripped a small piece of it off, smearing the cloth with the girl's blood. He dropped it next to the dress.

 This should do it for now, he thought, as he rode off to claim his prize. He had work to do, and he was looking forward to spilling his wrath into the luscious female. He had chosen a perfect location, not so far away she would not be easily found, yet far enough that no one would hear her screams.

 * * * *

 Megan came awake slowly, groaning as she moved her jaw. Her gag had been removed, but she remained blindfolded. She found she could wiggle her feet, but when she tried moving her hands a rope tightened against her wrists. Her hands were still bound behind her. Her dress was gone and she was clothed only in her shift.

 She shifted, trying to get her bearings. She seemed to be lying on rock. The voices of several men drifted to her, talking of their plans. Clearly, they assumed she was asleep. She dropped back down and feigned unconsciousness as she listened to them.

 "The McKinney will kill the MacGregor when he finds her bloody dress and the MacGregor plaid.” The man's clipped English voice made Megan shiver; it was so disdainful, so evil, as if he had not a scrap of human kindness in him.

 The voice continued, “This will start the clans warring again for sure and I will get my castles and lands."

 She stopped herself from crying out with horror. It didn't take a simpleton to surmise what they were planning. They had kidnapped her to restart the clan feud between the McKinneys and the MacGregors.

 "What will you do with the girl? Kill her?” one of the men asked.

 "I have better plans for her. One almost worse than death.” The men cackled with laughter.

 Megan's stomach clenched with fear. She had an idea of what he meant to do to her. If need be, she would fight to her death.

 She tried to shimmy down the rock. Lightly touching it with the hands behind her back, she let the hard surface guide her. She heard the leader dismiss the other men, telling them to leave him and return to their dwellings.

 Megan got up and ran despite the fact she couldn't see where she was going. She realized she needed to get away from these men as quickly as she could.

 Someone shouted. Footsteps thudded on the ground behind her. Then a body slammed into her. She went down so hard and fast she cried out in pain. The evil man laughed as he hauled her to her feet then threw her on her back.

 She struggled to get up again, but his heavy body landed on hers.

 "Where ye goin', my beauty?"

 Megan gasped in fear. His endearment was the same one Richard used with her. The man's hand moved to her hair and stroked it. She flinched and turned her head.

 "Let's see how much courage the youngest daughter of the McKinney really has, my beauty,” he whispered against her ear.

 She recoiled as if she had been struck. She reared up with her knee and heard a grunt. Then a hand slammed against her face. Blood flooded her mouth and she cried out in pain.

 "I will break you of that spirit, my beauty, and you will be beggin’ me to stop.” His voice rasped against her throat as he clasped her undergarments in his hand and ripped them all the way down.

 Megan screamed, kicking out with every ounce of energy and strength she had. But her flailing legs found only air. He laughed.

 She finally realized he was enjoying her fight. Only that understanding stopped her useless struggles. If her hands were untied, she might have continued. But this man was a coward and a villain.

 "Ye will never break my spirit, ye devil,” she roared, “because ‘tis not yers to take. I will fight ye until my death, dinna doubt that."

 "We'll see, my beauty, we'll see."

 With those words, Megan's nightmare began.

 * * * *

 Megan lay naked and beaten, blood covering every inch of her body. She was dying in the dirt, she thought. Time had passed, hours and hours of horror, maybe a day and night, maybe only an afternoon. She knew not how long—and cared not.

 Something soft landed on her stomach. She guessed it was the remains of her shift.

 "Let's see what the McKinney thinks of that.” The last thing Megan heard was her own howl of pain as she listened to him ride away.

 * * * *

 The shouts of men drew Richard's attention. From his tent, he ran to the clearing where just an hour ago men and women were playing games and drinking. Some of the men began pushing each other. Other voices were accusing.

 "Our Megan,” he heard one man say.

 "Megan McKinney,” said another.

 As Richard shoved his way to the front of the group where the two lairds stood, he had a horrible feeling in his gut. The McKinney held something bloody in his hand and the MacGregor another smaller item that looked like part of their plaid.

 "Who has last seen my lass, Megan?” the McKinney bellowed, surveying the faces of onlookers who stared at the bloody garment.

 Voices rang out in answer. None said what he wanted to hear. She hadn't been seen in over ten hours.

 Richard's heart began to beat erratically as he spotted the bloodied dress in the hands of her father.

 He recognized the cloth—it was Megan's.

 The MacGregor held another soiled or stained cloth in his hand. A piece of one of their plaids.

 "I fear the worst. Prepare the men.” The McKinney laird shouted the order.

 With strong strides and determined faces, the men moved to suit up.

 "McKinney,” said the MacGregor laird, “I know not what this is about. My men dinna do this, of that I am sure.” He looked at the bloodied plaid with distaste.

 "You better be prayin’ ye're right about that, MacGregor, or I'll be killin’ ya myself and this bloody feud will never end.” The McKinney strode away.

 Richard held out his hand. The McKinney skidded to a halt, gazing at him with hostility. “Ye're in my way, laddie."

 Richard lifted the bloody fabric from Megan's father's hand. His heart stopped beating for a moment before it kicked back into action. “Kidnapped?” he whispered. His thumb ran over the materials as if he were caressing Megan herself.

 "So it be seemin'."

 Richard felt his scrutiny.

 "Injured.” Richard said the statement more to himself than to her father. He slowly lowered the cloth, signaling to Caine. Caine moved forward and buried his nose in the material.

 "So it be seemin'."

 Richard eyes moved to the McKinney. “I will find her. Then I will kill the men who did this.” He handed the material back to the McKinney.

 "Not if I be findin’ them first, laddie, not if I be findin’ them first.” Tears swam in the old man's eyes. He blinked them away and strode off toward the horses.

 With a hand signal to Caine, Richard returned to his camp, grabbed some gear and vaulted onto his horse. He hesitated slightly at the sight of his healer bag, then bent down and grabbed it. The others were still milling around, deciding what to do.

 Richard gave a two-word command to Caine. “Find her."

 Caine took off at a lope.

 Richard charged after him.

 * * * *

 Fearfully, Megan listened to the sounds of the gradually awakening forest. She panted lightly, trying to determine whether she was alone or her attacker had returned.

 After an extended silence, she became more confident her violent foe had departed. And why not, she thought as she tried to move, moaning at the action.

 He had done what he had set out to do.

 He had abused her until she had had no pride left, until she had begged him for her release. He had laughed at her when she had finally succumbed to his drawn out torture.

 Megan forced her body into a sitting position, groaning at the pain. She tried to stand, but her feet would not hold her. She fell back against a hard surface.

 The rock was rough, and her heart quickened in excitement. She began frantically grinding her bound hands against the surface to break the rope. Every movement was agony. It seemed to take so long with no reward. She was about to give up when she felt movement in the rope.

 She smiled at her small victory. The cursed rope had cut off her circulation, tightening each time she had tried to strike her attacker. Finally, the bindings loosed enough for her to slip a hand out and she cried in relief. Fighting prickles of pain coursing through her freed wrist and hand, she raised it to her head to pull off the cloth blocking her view of the world.

 The rising sun glared into her eyes. She lifted her hand to shield them from its white blinding light. Her eyes dropped to her wrists and she cried out at the blood and cuts the rope had wrought upon her. Tears ran down her cheeks, but nothing would cleanse the soul that felt so dirty from her attacker's hands. He'd defiled her body, taken what she'd been saving to give to a gentle man once united in the bonds of love.

 Soul wrenching tears choked out of her mouth as she checked the rest of her body. Bruises, cuts, and blood mixed with dirt and gravel traveled the length of her body. Her arms, her naked breasts, her thighs, and her back all radiated with pain.

 When she refused to submit to his fist, he had lashed her with his leather belt. Crying out, she clutched a single ragged piece of what was left of her shift to her exposed breasts.

 She refused to think of the abuse he had inflicted upon her, the horrible things he had done.

 I won't.

 Closing her eyes, she tried to steady her gasping breath as her mind blocked the replay of his cruelty.

 "I won't,” she whispered in determination.

 She pushed the worst of the horror behind a wall in her mind. She opened her eyes. Tentatively, she moved her limbs, checking to see if any of them had been broken or so severely beaten they were useless.

 When she pulled away from the rock, burning fire seized her back. She grunted and kept moving. Using her hands, she scooted to her knees. Her arms were sore and cut but nothing seemed to be broken, except ... she moved a finger and yelled in pain. Except maybe the finger her attacker had taken such joy in bending back until she had screamed.

 She sucked in air through cracked lips and tried to ignore the pain. She needed to get to some water. She tried to move from her knees to her feet. At first her legs would not comply with what her mind was telling it. “Get up!” she chanted to herself. “Get up, get up, get up."

 Finally, her legs obeyed her voiced command. She stumbled to her feet, swaying in pain. She carefully placed the left foot in front of the right. But when she tried to change position, the right foot dragged. Her leg buckled and she fell to one already torn knee. Determined that crying out would do her no good, she clenched her teeth and tried to get up again. And fell again. Another time. And another.

 After the fifth time, she dropped her chin to her chest and let the agony of her situation overtake her. Tears coursed down her face, rolling over her bruised flesh, mixing with the red of her blood and falling onto her bare chest.

 Clearing her throat, she tried to stop the tears. She raised her head and attempted to rise again. This time she stumbled to her feet. A rushing noise came to her ears. A river. She felt a quiver of hope. With slow movements, stopping every few feet to rest, she staggered toward the noise.

 Seeing only grass and rocks, she wondered if the noise was in her head from the hard strikes she had taken. But she continued to teeter toward the sound. When she finally saw the small calm stream cascading in front of her, her breath whooshed in relief. She fell to her knees at the edge, almost laughing at the relief of her accomplishment.

 I made it to the water.

 She cried into the water, thinking one more drop would not overflow the stream. She wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked, trying to find some semblance of balance between her humiliation and her injuries.

 She needed to reach out to that water but she couldn't move, as if she was frozen in her misery. As if this was how her body wanted to stay.

 * * * *

 Richard rode through the night, not stopping for rest, not breaking to water his horse, not halting for any reason. Caine seemed as single-mindedly determined to find Megan at whatever the cost, even if it was his own death by fatigue. When Richard was convinced they could travel no more, Caine halted. His neck stretched, his nose rising into the air. He let out a long, tortuous howl.

 Richard heart raced with anticipation.

 Megan.

 Had Caine found her?

 Caine surged forward. Richard jammed his heels into Greystar's flanks and raced after Caine before the brave wolf left them far behind.

 They came upon a clearing in the woods and Caine jumped to a large boulder lodged into the dirt-ridden ground. Richard flew off Greystar, not even bothering to tether him, and followed Caine's lead.

 When he approached the boulder, he skidded to a stop. Was that blood spotting the ground and the boulder? His heart pounding, he crouched down low and touched the dirt. His fingers came up covered with a moist redness. He bent his head, and smelled the tinge of iron. Caine lifted his head and howled.

 "Oh God."

 Caine's head was tipped, as if he were listening to something. Richard turned his head in the same direction and heard a humming, a small weeping noise coming from the trees that surrounded the clearing. Then he noticed that the line of blood led toward the trees.

 He jumped to his feet and ran to the trees. He smelled the water and heard the rush of its flow before he saw the stream. Caine was already in front of him. As he rounded the last tree, he saw her ... naked and kneeling.

 "Megan!"

 Megan's head turned around. “Richard,” she whispered from her bloodless, almost blue lips.

 He rushed forward.

 Her bloodied hands raised. “Stop, please,” she pleaded.

 Richard stopped immediately, confused by her command, yet ready to abide by it. He eased down to a crouch, signaling with his hand for Caine to cease his rush toward Megan.

 As his skilled eyes and healer's heart inspected her body assessing each wound, he waited from her next signal. He noticed the blood on her inner thighs and his heart swiftly sank.

 He dropped his eyes so she wouldn't notice the rage when he thought of what actions had caused the blood to flow at that particular place. His features schooled, he raised his eyes again.

 Megan's body was trembling. As if she was too weak to hold it up any more, her hand dropped next to her body. Blood oozed from the many cuts on her body, the slash marks on her back swelling almost black. He knew her pride. He had to convince her to let him tend her.

 "Megan,” he pleaded, “I am a healer by vocation. Let me help you. I have seen injuries much worse. You must trust me, I am a skilled healer.” Richard thought by revealing himself she might give in and let him treat her.

 "So that is why you do not like to touch others,” she said. “It is because you feel their pain."

 That she thought of him in the midst of her ordeal made Richard's heart clench. He nodded, amazed at her ability to hone in on exactly what was on his mind. Almost as if she were Solarian herself, she seemed to share a mind connection with him.

 "I can help you, my beauty,” he said, deliberately using his pet name in hopes that it would calm her.

 "Never call me that again, never, never,” she screamed. The outburst seemed to sap her energy, and she sagged.

 "Megan, Megan, calm, it is all right, I am sorry...” Richard used his voice to quiet her. He remembered her telling him how much she loved his voice and the cadence of his speech. He eased closer as she slumped toward the ground.

 "I am here, Megan. I can help you. Let me help you. Let me...” He let his voice trail off as she groaned and her body slowly eased down to the rocky soil.

 "I am here. It is Richard. It is me. Hear me. Let me help you.” On his hands and knees, he crawled closer.

 He watched her eyes close briefly at his soothing voice. She called out his name with a sob. “Richard, there is too much pain in me. I beg you dinna touch me."

 "All will be well. It will be fine, trust me.” He edged just a bit closer and watched her eyes close completely. He wasn't sure if she was unconscious or sleeping. He suspected the first.

 Richard took a deep breath then finally laid his hands on her face. What he felt had him grunting in pain, “Noooooo ... oh, Megan.” Richard's head fell back as he absorbed the damage. It had been forever since he felt this way. He tasted his own blood as he bit his lip to keep from crying out as her many layers of injuries flooded from her body into his.

 You can do this.

 He spoke to himself as he moaned, trying to overcome the initial shock of her agony and attempting to localize her injuries so he could treat them.

 "Ahhhhh, damnation,” Richard cursed as his heart began to speed up while his mind listed her injuries. Broken finger, deep cuts on her back, a contusion on her head, other deep cuts on every limb and all over her body. He stopped for a moment, feeling the tearing and cuts inside her. As he absorbed the shock of his last discovery, his eyes filled with tears.

 Her captor had violated her intimately. This was an injury Richard would be unable to treat. It was one that would cause her anguish far beyond his understanding of healing. That wound would require a healing of her mind. Richard gently ran his hands over the injuries he had identified. To treat those he needed his healer's bag, which was on Greystar.

 He tenderly lifted Megan's battered body into his arms. Her head lolled back over his muscular arm, her beautiful red hair, coated with dirt and mud, cascaded over his arm to fall loosely at his side.

 He sucked in a breath at the bruises branding her neck and running down to her beautifully delicate shoulders. He held her closer to his chest, grimacing as she groaned. Her moan prompted him to hurry to his horse.

 A quarter of an hour later, Richard had used every skill he had to repair enough of the damage that had been wrought on her body so that she could at the very least travel. She had stirred once as he splinted her finger.

 Opening her eyes, she had insisted he not return her to her father. Despite his continued protests, she had been firm in her resolve. He promised he would not return her to the McKinneys. Then she had promptly slipped back into an unconscious state.

 Richard was glad. She was much better off not knowing how terribly injured she really was. Sleep and time were the best healers of all.

 Finding a high spot, Richard gently wrapped Megan in a blanket. He cradled Megan in front of him and slipped onto Greystar. He had to get her to a safe place to heal and the only place he knew of close enough was his own home.

 The Realm of Solaria.

 "We are returning home, Caine,” he commanded. “Lead the way."

 Caine barked sharply. He trotted off in the direction of Solaria, the place Richard had dreaded returning to since he had left over a year ago.

  

 Chapter Six

 Serena lifted her head from sharpening her blade. Her senses came alive. The tall muscular man next to her stiffened, alerted at her movements. He seemed as attuned to the situation as she. Roan placed his hand on her shoulder, his ice blue eyes making contact with the light green of hers.

 "Richard.” His deep voice confirmed both of their suspicions. Serena nodded her head, yet she continued to frown.

 "Something is not well.” She stored her blade and they moved to their dwelling, donning various battle gear. Serena wrapped a leather gauntlet on her wrist and pulled a protective vest over her leather halter. The man's actions mimicked hers. “Roan,” Serena's eyes met her husband's, “stay please, he has asked only for me."

 *

 She looked saddened by her announcement; however, Roan dipped his head in acquiescence, not questioning her command. His large hand encircling her delicate neck, he bent forward and touched his lips to hers. "A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne,” he gently chanted against her lips. His hand dropped and they locked arms, hers slender, his muscular. “Be careful, wife,” he cautioned. Serena's free arm encircled his shoulder.

 "Always, my husband.” She smiled against his lips. They released each other and she launched herself onto her sturdy steed. Roan's chest swelled with admiration for his woman. She was a true Wolf Warrior, his wife. A born fighter, but she was all woman to him, lover, wife, and mother. He raised his hand in salutation and she raised hers in response, then she galloped away, intent on finding Richard.

 * * * *

 Richard spotted Serena riding toward him. She had responded to his call for help. But the seriousness of the situation dampened the joy he felt viewing his twin sister. She rode up next to him. Her smile was like the sun.

 "Richard,” she cried out in joy as she raised her hand in the traditional Solarian greeting.

 Then her gaze fell upon the bruised and bleeding woman in his arms, and her hand dropped to her side. “Richard, what..."

 "I will explain all later. For now I must get Megan to a comfortable place."

 She nodded and rode next to him as they walked the horses toward Richard's home, using an easy gait to keep from jarring the fragile female he carried. It was killing him to have to rein in the horse when he wanted to get her to a safe place so badly.

 "Are you well?” Serena asked, watching Richard's weary countenance.

 "I am well, Serena, it is good to see you.” Richard's fatigue was evident.

 "And the girl, what happened?"

 "I should have known you would not wait. She was seized against her will. I assume this action was a form of retaliation between warring clans. She was gravely injured. She is my...” he paused, radiating a pain that silently told his sister more than mere words, “friend, Megan,” he finished.

 * * * *

 Serena sensed this small broken woman was much more than a friend to Richard. She felt his possessiveness toward the injured woman and knew at that moment, Richard would give his life for her.

 "How long has she been unconscious?” Serena's gaze strayed to the red-haired woman. Even with the various cuts and bruises on her body, Serena could see she was a beauty. Against Richard's strong body, the woman appeared frail, as if she could be broken with a simple flick of his wrist.

 "The entire trip, a good part of the day and night, thank the Gods.” He tilted his head toward Megan. “She is running a fever, she has a broken rib, several serious lacerations, a head wound, broken finger, strained wrist, and...” He slowly ran his free hand down the face pressed against his chest. Then his eyes met Serena's and what Serena sensed made her grimace. As if he could not say it out loud, he told her the last injury with his mind.

 "Oh, Richard.” Serena's eyes fell to Megan. She cringed, imagining what the woman would be feeling when she woke.

 "I know.” The horses slowed to maneuver a sharp bend in the trail, and Richard pressed his lips gently to the girl's forehead. “I know,” he whispered.

 His head came up. “I can heal all the wounds except that one. I was hoping you might be able to help her. I know it is forbidden to bring outsiders into the Realm, but I trust her and she refused to let me take her home."

 "Do you know why?” Serena asked, leading Richard though the tangle of woods toward their settlement.

 "She was not clear. It must have to do with why her kidnappers took her. I suspect she doesn't want to perpetuate this inter-clan warring.” He sighed. “It would be just like her, wanting to save others from pain."

 She experienced the reverence in his voice. She ached for him and for the beautiful red-haired woman in his arms.

 The rest of the ride was made in silence, almost a tribute of respect for the injured woman and what they both knew she must endure to heal. When they reached the village, the Solarians were waiting, ready to celebrate Richard's homecoming. But their expressions of happiness turned sober as they saw the limp and bleeding woman in Richard's arms.

 Richard nodded at Serena's husband, Roan, and the male child dribbling on Roan's chest. Briefly Richard smiled at Serena to acknowledge the nephew he had never seen. When he'd left the Realm directly following Serena and Roan's wedding, she was just newly pregnant.

 Richard followed Serena as she directed him to a newly constructed room of their small hutched cottage. As if they'd known they were going to have guests.

 Richard tenderly lowered Megan onto the bed. Dropping down next to her, he pulled his healer's bag from around his neck.

 "Serena, if I tell you what I need, can you please have one of our people gather some herbs for me?” Pulling out a salve and a cloth from his bag, Richard quickly worked on healing the smaller injuries he had been unable to mend in his urgency to bring Megan to a safe place. Despite his long absence from his vocation, his hands were efficient and practiced.

 He told Serena what he needed, also asking for additional bandages. Before she left, she reminded him that another healer resided in the village. He shook his head, indicating he did not want anyone else working on Megan.

 * * * *

 The splint on Megan's hand and wrist that Richard had crafted for the journey was holding up well. He tightened the bindings so her broken finger would be protected should she move. While he cleaned and stitched her wounds, Megan stirred. Richard knotted a stitch and lifted her lids to check her reactions, but Megan's eyes fluttered shut. Richard was glad.

 "Sleep,” he whispered. “Sleep and heal."

 Serena returned at one point with the items he had requested. He set her to the task of boiling water for a tea he planned on giving Megan to reduce her fever.

 "Can you lend a bed gown so I can replace her shift? It will only bring forth bad memories."

 Serena returned in a few short moments with a light linen gown. Richard reached out to take the gown and he gently pulled Serena to kneel on the floor next to him.

 "I need you to help me with something.” Richard's voice was gruff and he wouldn't make eye contact with her.

 "I will do what ever you ask of me, you know that."

 "I need you to wash and examine her...” Richard's voice broke as he placed a warm cloth into her hand.

 "You are a healer,” Serena said. “This is not new to you. You have delivered many babies. Why do you balk at this?"

 He bent forward and very softly kissed Megan.

 "I cannot. She would not want it as such.” Richard's voice was laced with agony. Serena placed her hand on his shoulder.

 "I understand, brother. Please wait outside.” She released his shoulder and jerked her head toward the door.

 "You will call me if she awakens?"

 "I will call you. Now, please.” She nodded toward the door again. He reluctantly dragged his feet toward the door.

 Richard tried to wait patiently, yet his anxiety would not let him. He paced back and forth, crossing his arms in front of him. Realizing the rapid movement was not calming, he stopped and leaned against the cottage. As he contemplated Megan's ordeal, his eyes burned and his hands fisted.

 A large callused hand dropped onto his shoulder. His head jerked up and he turned to see Roan next to him.

 "I remember another time when it was you endeavoring to calm me. She will be well in your care. She will mend, this I am sure of."

 The battle-scarred hand of Serena's enormous husband squeezed Richard's shoulder.

 "Yes, Roan, I remember that time well. Serena's near death and your need to blame yourself.” Richard gazed at his brother-in-law with deep respect. This man who was gentle enough to comfort Richard in his time of need was also fierce enough to destroy an entire army if needed. He could scare a troupe of wolf trackers with one severe look and a few threatening words.

 Although Richard was no small man, Roan towered over his large frame by several inches. Roan made eye contact with Richard, his second hand coming up to rest on Richard's other shoulder. He then used his mind sense to speak to Richard.

 All will be well.

 Richard tried to absorb Roan's words of wisdom, to convince himself that Megan would be all right.

 "Come meet your nephew.” Roan slapped Richard's arm and drew him away from the cottage toward a group of small children toddling around, their mothers lingering close at hand.

 Richard took in the home he'd been away from for so long. The green of the pines greeted him, their sharp scent permeating the air. He inhaled the aroma. He'd missed the smells of the pines and the sun, the sights of children playing and mothers talking, and the sounds of children's laughter.

 He wished he were at home for another reason besides the one that had brought him there. A reason not so dire.

 Roan scooped one of the teetering babies into his arms, throwing him up into the air. As the child screamed in glee, Richard smiled. Roan hoisted the child back into his arms. Turning to Richard he smiled with pride.

 "This is my son, your nephew, Roanin.” The child innocently reached his arms out to Richard.

 Richard immediately felt the child's mind sense—strong. Unconsciously Roanin projected his happiness with life, so infectious Richard broke out of his worried state. He reached forward to take Roanin into his arms. He cradled the child, smiling into his gurgling face as the infant touched Richard's chin and ran his tiny hands along his gruff, unshaven face, making an innocent game out of it.

 Richard thought about Megan and the possibility that she could be pregnant by her attacker's cruelty. His smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. He handed Roanin back to Roan.

 "He is wonderful. I am very happy for Serena and you."

 Roan sent Roanin back to his nanny while he wrapped a large arm around Richard's shoulder. “You care for this girl, Megan, very much, do you not?"

 "Very much."

 "Then be there for her. She will heal but she will need your help.” Roan drew him back toward the cottage. “Serena and I will help while we are here,” he promised.

 "Thank you. I know I should not have brought her here, yet..."

 Roan squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. “You did right, have no worries. I know you trust Megan or you would not have shared Solaria with her."

 "I trust her with my life."

 Roan looked at him with surprise. “Good.” Serena came out, wiping her hands on a cloth.

 "There was some damage, nothing that will not heal. It is here...” she raised her hand and softly touched the side of Richard's forehead, “that I fear for her."

 "I will help her."

 "That might not be enough. You must realize this before she awakens.” Serena dropped her hand from his face.

 "I will make it well. I swear, I will make her forget this."

 "I hope you can. I wish more that anything that your powers could extend that far, I just suspect they do not,” Serena said sadly. “She is high into her fever. I have tried to give her some tea but she kept turning her head, refusing to drink. I think you may have better luck."

 Richard hurried into the cottage.

 * * * *

 Serena turned to Roan with tears in her eyes and moved into the circle of his arms. She rested her cheek against his chest, and he placed his chin on top of her head. The contentment she felt in his arms was still hard to believe at times.

 "Oh, Roan, they have a hard road ahead of them.” She sighed.

 He lifted his head from hers. With one finger, he raised her chin to look at him. Her green eyes locked with the light blue of his. “And we did not, li'l one?"

 Serena smiled. Yes, they had had a hard time coming together, beating their enemies and finding peace in their love for each other.

 "I love you, more that I can say. Times like this remind me how lucky we were to find each other.” She paused as a tear rolled down her cheek. When his face moved toward hers, she closed her eyes. His soft lips gently kissed the tear away from her cheek. Her breath caught as it always did when he kissed her, when he projected his love into her mind as he did at that moment.

 I love you, Serena. After that unspoken avowal, his lips claimed hers in a fierce possessiveness that was much more than a kiss. It was a uniting of their love. Serena returned the kiss with fervor.

 A happy scream pulled them apart, their son insisting they retrieve him from his nanny.

 "He is demanding and stubborn, just like his father,” Serena whispered against Roan's lips.

 "We will take that up later in private.” Roan laughed at her arching eyebrow.

 * * * *

 Richard held the back of Megan's neck as he tried to force a drop of the fever-reducing tea down her throat. She thrashed from side to side, crying out as if he were hurting her.

 Richard shook his head. To stop her head from thrashing, he tightened his grip on her neck. Immediately, she flung out her hand, violently knocking the tea from his grasp. She screamed, “You willna ever make me beg, you bastard, never."

 Richard was stunned motionless. In her fever, she thought him her attacker. He loosened his hold on her neck, then he aligned her ear with his mouth and lifted his other arm around her body, holding her against his warmth.

 The raw heat of her body permeated his and her troubled thoughts filled his mind. He felt her pain through every fiber of his being. It was a pain that had never touched her before, almost ripping his heart right out of his chest as he absorbed her anguish into his mind and body.

 "Megan, it is Richard. Calm. You are safe.” He continued to chant the words patiently, letting the cadence of the voice she claimed to adore penetrate her terrified feelings and replace them with a sense of safety.

 She stopped flailing her hands. Then, inch by inch, they crept around his body. One of her hands tightened into a fist in the cloth of his tunic, released, then fisted again.

 Her cries began to lessen and eventually a soft sigh blew out onto his neck. Richard repeated his reassurances and his arms gently tightened on her body.

 As he continued to absorb and dispel her pain, tears glided down his face. It was as if he was experiencing the horror she'd been through all over again.

 His voice broke at times, but he kept whispering against her ear, “You are safe. Megan, you are safe."

 Then he felt a movement, the tiniest flicker of her lashes as they opened against his shoulder. Her head fell back. He gazed down at her as her tears poured out.

 "Richard, oh God, why didn't you just leave me there to die? Why did you do this?"

 Her arms tightened around his body and she buried her face in his chest. He pulled back slightly and forced her chin up. His green eyes caught hers. Tears flowed like rapidly falling rain from her blackened eyes, pouring down her bruised cheeks and falling to her rope-chafed neck.

 "I will never abandon you. Never!” The statement came out much harsher than he intended, almost like a shout. It was a reverent vow, one a knight of the Realm might make to his lady.

 Richard watched Megan's eyes widen in surprise. His arms tightened, and she grimaced in pain. He immediately gentled his hold and pressed his wet cheek against hers.

 "Never!” he repeated.

 "You dinna know what that man did. You dinna...” she stopped, as if unable to continue.

 Richard pressed her face into his shoulder. “I know, Megan."

 She inhaled sharply. “How?"

 Her small voice prickled at his conscience. Should he have told her he knew? “I am a healer of the highest caliber here in the Realm.” He tried to sound pragmatic. “There was no way for me not to know. I sensed all your injuries the moment my hands touched you."

 "All of them?"

 Richard wrestled with his doubts. Should he affirm what she was beginning to understand?

 "Yes,” he answered, knowing it was the right thing to do.

 "Ach.” Her Scottish exclamation almost made him smile.

 He said nothing. Just held her. When she began to stir in his arms, he laid her back into the bed, easing the coverlet around her body. He reached over to stroke her red hair away from her face.

 "Rest, you must heal.” He picked up the cold wet cloth next to the bed and draped it over her forehead while he refilled the cup with tea. This time, she drank without protest.

 Her eyes closed. He ran the cool cloth over her forehead and arms until she fell back into a troubled sleep. He sighed as he wrung out the cloth and dipped it into the cool water Serena had brought him. It would be a long night.

 She drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the night, continually crying out. At first, her words were unrecognizable. Then, to Richard's dismay, he began to understand her ravings.

 "You willna make me beg,” she cried out, again and again.

 Richard tried to comfort her, but she thrashed out with her arms and legs, shouting a barrage of Scottish obscenities. Finally, she stopped fighting.

 "No more,” she said between hoarse sobs. “Please, no more."

 At that instant Richard realized the extent of her torture. Megan was a proud, strong woman and he knew what it cost her to beg.

 Her broken voice repeated, “Please, no more.” Then her pleas turned to sobs.

 As if his will was shattered too, he rested his forehead against hers and cried. Finally, the tears stopped. Resting both hands against her face, he whispered soothing words in her ear directly throughout the night and into the next day. He sensed the sound of his voice calmed her and gave her the fortitude to fight the demons she battled in her slumber.

 Her fever broke at dawn. Richard sank to his knees next to the bed. Holding her hand, he thanked the Gods for her life and then he prayed for her recovery.

 After long moments, he sat next to the bed again. With Megan's small hand in his, he slumped over in relief and succumbed to a complete exhaustion of his soul and body.

 * * * *

 Megan groaned and tried to open her eyes but they seemed to be stuck. She chanced a slight movement and moaned. Eventually she opened one of her eyes; the other was so swollen it opened only a crack.

 She glanced around the room and saw Richard slumped in the chair next to her, his head bent at such an angle she worried it would pain him later. His jaw was shadowed with unshaven dark hair tinged with red. In his slumber, his face took on an almost childlike faade. Prominent purple circles below his eyes attested to his vigil over her. Even in sleep, his hand lightly rested against hers. His shirt dipped down, showing his deeply sculptured chest with a light smattering of his black-red hair.

 Despite her pain, Megan admired his beauty. He never ceased to draw her to him. He was a combination of masculine perfection and sensual allure that she had never been able to resist.

 She endeavored to sit up. Her hand moved, touching Richard's. His eyes immediately opened. His hands captured hers as he lifted from his vigil chair.

 "Megan, you have risen. How do you feel?” Removing one of his hands from hers, he raised it to her forehead to test for any remaining fever. She must have been cool to the touch and he sighed with relief. He trailed his finger lightly down her cheek before removing it.

 A slight shiver coursed through her body.

 "I am well, Richard. You, on the other hand, look poorly.” Megan tried to smile, but the motion made her wince.

 Richard helped shift her into a more comfortable position. “You are still gravely injured, you must move slowly.” He sat back in his chair.

 "I am beginning to realize that. I am...” Megan tilted her head while she tried to put her thoughts to words, “...grateful that you found me, although I have a feeling I have not expressed it as such."

 * * * *

 He considered her statement. During the night, she had berated him for healing her, wanting death over living. She still felt a deep sadness.

 "I sense you are not earnest in your statement."

 Her face eyes widened with surprise before quickly flashing with anger. “How did you know?"

 Richard sighed. He had told her when he found her beaten and battered. He wished she would forget what else had happened, but maybe it was better to remember and let the poison ooze from her mind rather than lying dormant, festering.

 "My people have a telepathic ability and have since the beginning of our race. I am a healer, and for the most part sense others’ pain. There are times when I am close to someone that I can sense their emotions, as I can with you.

 "It has always been such with my people. Serena, my sister, who helped when I brought you here, is a Wolf Warrior, as is her husband. She too has the ability to sense others’ thoughts and emotions. She can also communicate with wolves, including her protector."

 "Caine is her protector, isn't he?"

 Richard smiled at her perceptiveness. “Yes, she sent Caine with me when I left the Realm over a year ago. Unlike Serena, I can only communicate with Caine on a basic level.” He brought her hands to his lips, his eyes connecting intimately with hers. “When you are well, I will show you this wonderful paradise we have found for our people."

 * * * *

 Megan was touched that he wanted to share his secret world with her. All the time she had known him, she had always felt he was out of place as a warrior, that his calling lay somewhere beyond warring. She'd suspected he was important in an elemental way, far beyond what he did for the MacGregors.

 Now she knew.

 She had sensed he was escaping from what he did best, and this was it. He was a healer to these people. She now understood he had been running from the pain he felt in others, from the flood of emotions he evoked with a simple touch.

 "How long have you been a healer?” Megan asked, watching as his eyes dropped from hers.

 "At the age of six all children of the Realm are tattooed with their vocation. I was chosen as a healer.” He gently placed her hand back onto the coverlet.

 "That is why you have the raven mark that others termed the mark of death? It is the mark of your craft, of a healer?"

 "Yes.” Richard's voice was low as his eyes came up again to search her face.

 "Richard, please do not sense my thoughts any longer."

 Her statement stunned him, rendering him speechless.

 "That is why you left here? You have already told me it was because you grew weary of absorbing others’ pain and anguish. Do you deny this now?"

 He didn't say anything. He must have feared her reaction.

 "Dinna lie to me. I ken it to be true.” Her voice rose. “That is why you left, wasn't it?"

 He dropped his head, looking at his hands, clenching and unclenching them in his lap. He glanced up again and tried to shield his pain from her, aware that he failed.

 "Yes, you know it is."

 Megan turned her face away from him. Tears coursed down her cheeks and dropped off her chin, falling unnoticed to the coverlet. “I would like you to leave,” she said, not looking at him.

 She heard his intake of breath, felt his surprise. She couldn't let Richard sense the emotions running through her mind or let him continue to absorb the sorrow she felt. She wanted to shield him from her dark thoughts. The ones that told her she should have been killed rather than live with the shame of what had happened.

 Megan felt Richard shift off of his chair and kneel next to her.

 "I cannot leave you. I am a healer. As I have tried to tell you, I have experienced injuries such as yours more times that I care to admit to you. I can help you.” His low baritone voice was like sweet music to her.

 It was at that moment Megan realized how much she loved this man and how badly she wanted to protect him from her pain. Despite her pain, she snapped her head around.

 "So you have said. You have dealt with all of my injuries?” she said, knowing Richard had more than likely not dealt with one of them.

 Richard's gaze dropped.

 "Every single one of them? Answer me, Richard!” Megan pressed him.

 "Not one of them."

 She turned her head away. “I thought not. Please, I asked you to leave me. I would like to be alone."

 "Megan, please let me help you,” Richard begged.

 "No.” Megan scooted back down into the bed and turned her back on him.

 She felt his own anger rise, but knew that he would have to grant her request and leave. “As a healer are you allowed to give treatment if the patient is unwilling?"

 "No.” He gently reached out his hand and smoothed Megan's hair. She pulled the coverlet closer around her body.

 He stood. “In the future it will not be so easy to rid yourself of me, but for now I will leave you to rest."

 * * * *

 Her small shoulders shrugged. He pulled in a breath and let it out slowly as he exited the room. This will be a difficult task indeed, he thought, as he stepped out into the sunlight. As he had stated, however, in the future he would not give up as easily as he had today.

  

 Chapter Seven

 When Megan next woke she was alone. She breathed a sigh of relief at not having to deal with Richard's pitying looks any more. Although he had tried to cloak it, his fear flashed in his green eyes every time he looked at her.

 Groaning, she shifted to a sitting position and surveyed the room. Seeing the water and glass next to the bed, she reached over and tried to grasp it. But the bulky splint on her injured wrist and finger got in the way and she was unable to clutch the glass.

 She leaned over with her other hand. A burning in her ribs made her freeze. She growled with pain and frustration. In anger, she struck out with her immobilized hand, knocking the glass and pitcher to the floor. At the top of the lungs, she screamed, “It is not fair!"

 Tears coursed down her face as she inched her legs over the side of the bed. She saw she was in some sort of night rail and was momentarily grateful.

 When she struggled to her feet, the pain wiped out any other thoughts. Yet she almost welcomed the hurt; at least she knew she was alive. She squatted down trying to retrieve the cup only to have the splint impede her ability to grab it again. When she tried to stretch out her left arm, her muscles clenched. A vague memory of her arm being twisted came to her. She stood and kicked out at the cup. As if it were a living creature, she cursed it with every Scottish swear word she could recall.

 Only another demand of her body stopped her outburst. Attending to her private needs became more important than getting a drink of water. She stepped toward the door, but a crippling pain made her falter and come to a halt.

 Megan laid her braced hand against the wall and for a moment she gave in to tears of pain. Every inch of her body hurt in one manner or another.

 Finally she took a deep breath, pushed away from the wall and continued to work her way to the door. She was determined to do this by herself.

 Outside the darkened hut the sun glared into her eyes, reminding her of when she had pulled off the blindfold. A flash of her earlier terror took away her sight, leaving her in blackness. Then she growled.

 No. I will not succumb to the fear inside of me.

 She blinked, her sight returning, and started to stumble toward a thicket of trees about forty feet away. With one eye open and the other half-closed, Megan continually had to look down to avoid stepping on rocks. About halfway to the trees, her strength began to ebb.

 She moved her head slightly to see if anyone was witnessing her shame and she caught sight of the people of the village who had stopped in their activity to stare at her. She turned her head away, and took another step forward.

 I willna be pitied!

 Her knee buckled and she tumbled into the dirt. Sitting, she raised her face to the sky. With the remaining dregs of strength left in her body, she yelled, “It is not fair!"

 Her last surge of energy left her. Her head dropped into her hands, covering her face. She cried for barely a moment before her anger sparked, overcoming her self-pity. Shaking with fury, she tried to rip the splint off her wrist and hand. She wanted to punish the one thing that had started her sense of helplessness.

 * * * *

 Richard yelled in annoyance as his sister hooked his leg and took him down to the ground—again.

 "You are not concentrating, brother."

 "Really? I wonder why that is?” Richard grabbed his sword from the ground and sprang up to his feet. Serena's eyes locked with his. Panting from the workout she was giving him, he rested his hands on his thighs.

 They had been practicing for over two hours. He'd thought if he were warding off blows from his warrior sister, he wouldn't fret over Megan. Sparring would keep him from trying to think what to do next and wondering how he could help her.

 It was not working.

 With every strike of his sword, Richard had wished he were fighting the devil that had attacked Megan. His emotion made him clumsy. Serena bested him at every move. Each bruise and blow she gave was a reminder of how much more Megan had received.

 "You are filled with anger. You know this will not help you in battle, only impede you.” Serena stepped closer to him, raising her hand to wipe a streak of dirt from his forehead. Her hand lingered, gently caressing his brow in a motherly fashion. “You must gain control of your emotions or you will only hinder Megan's recovery. I fear for you in this state."

 Richard nodded, touched by her love for him. Folding her into his arms, he drew strength and comfort from her.

 "Serena. I do not know what to do,” he confessed, releasing her and stepping back.

 "You will. Do not fear. You will find the wisdom when it is needed."

 "Thank you for being here for me and for Megan.” He clasped her arm in his and recited their ancient Solarian vow. "A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne.” We protect our own.

 She returned it. "A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne,Richard."

 She smiled and he absorbed this small moment of happiness. The next instant, a deep pain bit into his stomach. His arm tightened on Serena's.

 Someone is in agony.

 He started to glance around when he heard Megan's cry. An identical cry came from his throat. He dropped Serena's arm and ran, Serena directly behind him.

 He dodged around the trees as he felt Megan's pain increase. His heart clenched in fear. Breaking through the trees, he gasped and slid to a stop.

 Megan knelt in the middle of the settlement tearing off the splint that held her wrist and broken finger immobile.

 Richard rushed forward, yelling, “Megan, stop!"

 Instead of slowing, she tore at the device more frantically. As he neared her, he saw desperation in her face. Then his hands touched hers and he absorbed a jolt of her pain.

 She jerked away from him. “I told you dinna touch me,” she screamed.

 It is time to stop being nice, he thought.

 He tugged her hand away from her damaged wrist splint, and spread his hand over it. “Megan, you will cease this destructive behavior immediately."

 She shrieked wordlessly, her mouth pulled back with an injured animal's anger. As if determined to demolish the splint, she reached down and tried to jerk his hand away from her. He resisted her weak pulling easily.

 "Stop it!” she yelled and tried again to pry off his hand.

 Sweat ran down Richard's face, dripping onto his shirtless chest. When Megan struck out at him, he sorrowed but remained immobile. He told himself she needed to let out her anger and he would rather have it be on him than on her splint.

 He let her hit him again and again until the last of her energy withered away and she slumped. Then her head raised and her hand came up to cover a red welt she had left on his chest. Richard sucked in his breath. This time instead of feeling her hurt, he felt only the desire that always came when the flesh of hers touched his.

 Her gaze met his and he saw her apology in her tear-drenched green eyes.

 "Richard,” she whispered. He felt her strained voice all the way to his soul. “It inna fair."

 One arm folded her against his chest, another slipped under her knees. Lifting her effortlessly, he stood.

 "I know, Megan, I know,” he whispered in her ear.

 Her head rested against his bare shoulder, her body relaxing. The arm with the splint on the wrist came up to wrap around his neck.

 He stood in the middle of the village, his breath laboring as he absorbed the pain of the small woman resting so trustingly in his arms. His arms tightened. His head dropped to burrow in her heather-scented fiery hair. She began to sob, her tears dampening his shoulder.

 "I know, Megan,” he repeated. “I know."

 Her hand gently caressed the back of his neck. Unexpectedly, awareness far beyond the absorption of her pain invaded his body, making him shiver down to his toes.

 "I'm sorry, Richard, for striking you."

 His heart clenched. He kissed the top of her head. “Do not worry, my beauty.” The second the endearment left his mouth he regretted it.

 She grew rigid in his arms.

 "Megan,” he lowered his voice, compelling her eyes to meet his, “you are mine. You will always be my beauty. Whatever that animal said or did, I vow to you I will make you forget."

 * * * *

 Richard's reverent declaration surprised Megan.

 Her small hand soothed gently over his brow as she began to realize how much he must have also been suffering. He was absorbing her pain, along with her anger and shame, healing her wounds, and all the while remaining strong and giving her comfort.

 "The trees,” she said, feeling another wash of shame.

 Understanding, he needed no more explanation. He helped her into the trees, setting her down and turning his back to her.

 The next moment he scooped her back in his arms. She closed her eyes as he carried her back inside the shelter and laid her on the bed. Leaning over her, he continued to cradle her in his arms, treating her as if she were fragile and precious.

 Megan hugged him closer, ignoring the ache she felt when his chest rubbed a sore spot.

 She needed him. And more importantly, he needed her.

 "Richard, I have been so selfish. In my own pain I've forgotten about yours."

 His body began to tremble. His face burrowed into her throat. She felt wetness on his cheek. Her good arm was immobilized from his weight. Like a wolf pup, she rubbed her chin against the top of his head.

 He pulled back and she moved her uninjured hand. This time her muscles didn't seize, and she was able to lift her fingers to his cheek to wipe away the moisture.

 "We will heal together, my beauty. Please help me,” he asked as his large hands came up to frame her face. “Please promise you will help me, not fight me.” His hand strayed to her lopsided splint. “Please,” he requested again, his eyes pleading with her.

 "I will try.” It was the best Megan could promise.

 "Megan, that is not good enough. I need you to commit to work with me, not against me, or this will not succeed.” The determination on his face was fierce. In one quick second, he had changed from her gentle healer to the strong warrior she knew he could be.

 "Promise me!” he commanded.

 Tears formed in her eyes. She raised her hand and ran it over his face, watching him suck in his breath. Her hand strayed lower over the spattering of hair on his chest to rest on his heart.

 Megan was stunned at what she felt. His heart was pounding so rapidly she wondered why it hadn't jumped out of his chest. Unmoving, he watched her face, as if giving her permission to make the next move. She sighed. Her hand cupped the back of his neck, his unruly dark hair curling over her fingers. He shivered under her palm. She applied a gentle pressure, and he automatically moved closer.

 Megan realized how much she had to live for. This man in her arms was worth healing for, was worth fighting any army for.

 He was her man.

 She pulled him toward her swollen bruised lips that had been ravished so brutally by a man who she would always hate with all of her being. Only Richard could replace the memories of horror with a reminder of his love.

 "Kiss me, Richard,” she softly requested.

 Gently, he touched his lips to hers. “Promise you will help me,” he whispered against her lips.

 "I promise I will help you from now on."

 * * * *

 With Megan's vow, a huge weight was taken off Richard's shoulders. His arms encircled her. He wasn't kissing her anymore, she was kissing him. Small butterfly kisses were raining on his cheeks and jaw and forehead.

 Richard smiled at the sensations her slight kisses were evoking in him. At last he took over, his lips taking hers in a joining so sensual Megan gasped when he released her to breathe.

 His warm breath bathed her face, and his tongue came out to gently line her swollen bruised lips. Then he claimed the trembling softness of them again, his tongue tenderly entering her mouth. Tentatively, her tongue touched his. He groaned as his arms tightened around her, his pulse fluttering against the small hand touching his neck.

 "Love me, Richard."

 Megan's plea made him draw back slightly.

 "I cannot. You are not well. It will hurt you,” he said with regret. He brushed back her red hair and framed her face with his hands.

 She was so beautiful, this woman of his. Even with her bruises and welts, her eyes black and her cheek swollen, her inner beauty radiated a unique attractiveness that pulled him to her like no other.

 "I do not care. Please erase the touch of that man. Please.” Her last sentence was croaked out as tears ran down her face.

 Like a fire lit in his mind, he understood what she was requesting. She wanted to replace the memory of her violation with his love, his soft strokes, and the magic that flared when they touched.

 "God, Megan.” He hugged her to him. “I am afraid of hurting you,” he admitted, something he would never do to another living person.

 "I know, but this is what I need.” Her soft voice vibrated through his body.

 "God's Blood.” He groaned as he gently kissed base of her throat. She moaned in response. He pushed away from her, then jumped up and threw the bolt on the door. He returned to the bed, sitting down next to her.

 Desire for her filled his mind. He wanted to make love to her as much as she needed him to. But the injuries she was trying so desperately to erase from her mind were the same obstacles that would prevent him from granting her impulsive request.

 Other things he could do. He could bring her to pleasure to expunge the memories that caused her so much pain. His pleasure would be in watching her enjoy his embraces again.

 He began at her ankles, his touch light and non-threatening, moving slowly upward. As he tenderly stroked her calf, he slid up her nightdress exposing more of her legs. He concentrated on projecting his healing powers into his hands while he massaged her legs. Bit by bit, inch by inch, he moved up her thigh, casually moving the garment aside as he went.

 Her pulse accelerated. Her breath began to hitch, changing to moans. He felt a similar response in himself and took a deep breath, trying to suppress his desire. As quickly as he could, he stripped off his tunic, leaving only his breeches, which he had no intention of removing.

 With sure movements, he bent and stroked her cheek. Slowly, he lay next to her on the bed. Despite the care he took, the cot moved. She winced. He cringed, feeling her pain.

 He shook his head with regret. What he wouldn't give to take every pain away from her. Alas, he could not. His powers were limited, but he would try to the best of his abilities.

 He moved back and continued to stroke her legs and thighs, his movements gentle and sure. The tenseness eased from her body and she began to relax against his touch. His healing hands continued their explorations. When her shift slid up to the top of her thighs, she helped as he removed it from her body, exposing her damaged body in its naked splendor.

 Richard attempted to calm his rage at the bruises and welts discoloring almost every inch of her alabaster skin. His gaze sought hers and he saw the tears form in her eyes.

 "It's horrible, is it not?"

 Her question broke Richard's resolve. With determination, he unlaced his boots. Dropping them to the floor, he gently laid next to her, gathering her trembling body in his arms.

 "You will heal, my beauty."

 She tensed at his endearment, but he continued to stroke her hair while he pressed his legs between hers. In that moment, he was closer to her than he had ever been with anyone else. Not only in a physical sense but also mentally, even more so than with his sister.

 "Place yourself in my hands and I vow you will heal."

 Her tears rolled down his neck before he heard her soft murmurs of anguish. Reaching behind her, Richard pulled the coverlet over their bodies. Her small hands came to rest on his chest. Even as he realized it was his job to heal her, the pull of her femininity bled through his mind.

 Yet he held back. She was so small and so helpless, he couldn't take advantage of her. He needed to protect her, not use her damaged body to slake his lust.

 "Rest, Megan. I will be here when you awaken.” He felt her shift next to him and settle into his arms.

 "But...?” Her question stopped before it began. She buried her face in the hollow of his throat.

 Richard knew what she was asking. He stroked her hair, and then lightly ran his hands down her injured neck.

 "Megan, rest, we have plenty of time to love."

 At his words, he felt her body relax again.

 "Thank you, Richard."

 He wrapped his arm around her waist. He felt the steady rhythm of her breathing against his throat.

 He waited until he knew she was finally asleep before he released his breath and his tears, trying to ease the tension her pain caused in him. He closed his eyes. Resting his chin against her hair, he took several deep breaths, attempting to calm his distress.

 "Please, God,” he whispered against her hair. “Please convince me there was a reason for this, please...” His whisper broke off as Megan stirred. Her hands resting on his ribs moved around to hug his back, finally settling on the Raven of his shoulder. She murmured in her sleep and settled back into his body.

 "Please give me the strength to help her though this, God, please.” Richard's prayers went unheard by Megan as she slept in the comfort of his healing arms and rested comfortably without nightmares.

 For the first time in a long while, Richard thanked the Gods for his gift.

  

 Chapter Eight

 Megan kept her promise not to hinder her healing. For three months, Richard stroked and held her every chance he had, trying to erase the memory of the bastard's touch and replace it with his own. Her young, strong body was healing naturally, but he wanted to make sure her mind healed as well.

 His own body was in torture. With every day that passed, with every stroke of her skin, he wanted her more. But even though he felt their sexual connection grow stronger each day, Megan was not physically or mentally ready to couple with him. It was taking him to the limit of his control to keep their foreplay from going too far.

 He dropped down next to Megan at the river and stretched out on the blanket. Lately, she'd been coming to the river to watch the sunlight sparkle on the rippling water. He guessed it reminded her of the stream near her home, her secret place that she'd shared with him.

 "How are you today, my beauty?"

 She smiled, not stiffening any more at his use of his pet name for her. He studied her as she turned toward him. Most of the bruises on her face had healed, fading to a gray shadow on her white skin, a dark reminder of a cruel day. Richard reached over and traced the lines under her eyes.

 "You need more sleep."

 She rolled her eyes. “You hog the bed."

 He had taken to sleeping with her to absorb the pain of the nightmares. But even with his assistance, she still slept restlessly. And lying next to her, his body pressed to hers with his cock swollen and aching, wasn't doing much for the quality of his rest, either.

 Last night, he had brought her to orgasm, slowly stroking the plump folds between her legs until she shattered with release. The radiance of her face in that second was the most beautiful sight Richard had ever seen. Afterward, she had cried, then fallen into a blissful, quiet sleep.

 He had stayed awake, holding her, unable to take care of his own relief. Finally, he'd dozed off. But when he'd awakened this morning, his cock was still as stiff as a tent post.

 He smiled now and ran a hand through her red locks. Anchoring his hand to the back of her neck, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her body on top of his. She shifted, her groin lined up with his, her breasts pressing against his chest. There wasn't anything more he wanted to do at that moment then sink his erection into her.

 It was time to tell her how he felt.

 "Megan,” he whispered between nibbles on her lips.

 She lifted her lips from his. “Aye?"

 "I'm in love with you."

 "Whaaat?"

 Richard grinned at her stunned expression. He stroked her jaw, and his mouth followed his fingers.

 "You heard me."

 "Richard—I don't know what to say."

 Richard sat up, taking her with him. “You can say you love me too. You can say you'll consent to be my wife."

 She stood. Richard stayed where he was. He didn't like what was happening. Even though he'd promised he wouldn't do it, he opened his senses.

 She does love me. I can feel it.

 He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Megan, what is it? What holds you back?"

 She turned away from him. Richard got up and eased behind her. Putting both arms around her, he rested his chin on her head.

 "Tell me, my beauty. What is it?"

 "I can't wed you."

 Richard sensed her regret.

 "Can't, Megan? Or won't?"

 "I can't. I ... Richard ... I...” She started to cry.

 "It's all right, tell me."

 "I'm damaged."

 Richard immediately turned her around to face him. He tried to contain his anger but it radiated off him. He saw her wince. She lowered her head. He placed both hands on her face and forced her to look at him.

 "You are not, nor will you ever be, damaged, my beauty. Ever."

 She dropped her gaze. “Look at me,” Richard commanded.

 Her eyes snapped up to meet his.

 "Ever."

 She searched his face, as if trying to see the truth. He kissed her then, an angry meeting of lips.

 When would she trust him?

 He tried to tamp down the harshness he felt, his tongue mating with hers. She made a sweet noise and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

 Richard walked her three steps back to a sprawling redwood and placed her back against the tree. He grabbed her ass, pulling her off the ground.

 "Wrap your legs around me."

 She complied. Her core came in contact with his hardened cock.

 "Feel what you do to me, Megan. Feel my love."

 She moaned against his lips.

 Richard stopped. Taking a deep breath, he gazed down into the face of the woman he loved.

 "Can you feel my love? Can you sense it? You have abilities. I know you do.” He pressed his forehead against hers.

 "Yeeees."

 "Tell me what you feel toward me.” Richard gently pressed his penis against her. “Remember last night. Remember me caressing you until you were wet and panting. Remember what it felt like to come under the stoking of my fingers. Remember arching up at the last minute and flying into the stars. Do you really think you could feel that way if you were...” he spit the word out, “...damaged?"

 She groaned as he laved her neck, working his mouth down to her breasts. “Remember me touching your nipples, squeezing them, how good that felt."

 "Yeeees, Richard. God, yes."

 "Tell me what you feel toward me."

 His tongue touched her hardened nipple through her clothing. Her head dropped back against the tree.

 "God, Richard, you know I love you. I love you more than anything in the world."

 Richard stopped his onslaught and released her, guiding her legs to the ground until she was standing on her own. He kissed her a final time. Using his tongue he outlined her lips, then laved off the wetness.

 "Don't ever tell me you're damaged again.” He smiled against her mouth. “Now, show me those dimples.” He kissed her cheek until she laughed at him.

 "That's better."

 She swatted at him. He captured her hand in his, raising it to his lips.

 "So ye'll be marryin’ me then?"

 She smiled at his attempt to mimic her accent and shook her head. “You're pushing your luck."

 He wrapped his hand around her neck and kissed her again.

 "Soon?"

 "Mayhap. Give me time, please."

 Sighing, he nodded. He led her back to the blanket and eased her down.

 "Thank you, Megan.” He dropped down next to her. She weaved her fingers through his. He watched her as she gazed at the water, knowing his next words would hurt her. He stroked her wrist, massaging the newly-healed injury.

 "Megan, I must leave to see your father."

 Her hand tensed. He continued to knead it.

 "I have to tell him you're alive and well. I want you to try and tell me what happened. We need to find who did this to you."

 She turned her attention to the river. She nodded. “I know. I ken you need to go. It's just..."

 Richard let his silence speak for him. He knew she would tell him when she was ready. It took a while, but piece by piece, she went through her ordeal. As she spoke, she began to shake. Her voice broke, and she often stopped to compose herself. His arms went around her. He held her tightly, once again absorbing her pain.

 "So you think they were Scottish?"

 "Yes, by their accents."

 "Why in God's name would they want to start this feud again? If they were Scottish, how could they benefit from this?"

 Megan pulled away from his grip, recovering some of her poise. “Many of the Scottish have turned on their own, to side with the English.” Her voice hardened. “The English promise them things, land, money, titles, if they betray their own."

 "So this is likely about greed?” Richard tried to hold down his rage when she nodded.

 "God's Blood.” Richard vaulted off the blanket and started to pace. A demon rose up inside his chest. This was the same devil that rode with him when he fought for the Scottish, the one that could kill in one fell swoop.

 He sensed Megan come up behind him. She laid a hand on his shoulder, as if trying to soothe him.

 "I will kill them. This I swear to you,” he vowed.

 She massaged his shoulder, then wrapped her arms around him. He squeezed her arms, placing his hands on hers. He sensed her worry.

 "Take care, Richard. Please."

 He turned and folded Megan into his arms.

 "I will. Don't worry. Do you want to come with me?"

 She stiffened in his arms. “I'm sorry. I don't want to return yet."

 "Please consider it,” he requested.

 She nodded her assent.

 Richard hadn't expected she would but wanted to give her the opportunity. After she pondered the idea, it was likely she would go. “It's all right, I understand. You let me know when you're ready and I'll take you."

 "I will, thank you. How long will you be gone?"

 Richard cradled her head to his chest. “Mayhap a fortnight. I'm not sure. Roan will go with me. He is a strong warrior and a good friend.” He joined her hands in his. “Come. I have a gift for you."

 The smile she gave him wobbled at the corners. “Gifts, I do like."

 "Aaaah, there are those dimples.” He pulled her toward the trees. “This gift you will definitely like."

  

 Chapter Nine

 Megan followed Richard, clutching his hand in hers. She had been taken aback when Richard asked her to marry him. She wanted nothing more than to be able to tell him yes, but she couldn't. Not now.

 She needed time.

 Richard pulled her toward the village barn. At one of the stalls, he stopped and smiled. Megan looked inside. Curled around a large gray wolf were three darling pups. Megan heart lifted with happiness as she shook off Richard's hand and hurried into the stall. She heard him chuckle.

 "Be careful. She's a new mother and a little protective."

 Megan bent down to stroke the mother wolf, who lifted her head and licked Megan's hand. Megan knew she was in no danger. Since she was a child, wild forest animals had eaten out of her hand. She had a mysterious connection with animals that defied explanation.

 "Dinna fash. I have a way with animals.” She gently picked up one of the pups and cuddled her face against his.

 "Yes, you do, my beauty.” Richard squatted down next to her, his gaze intent.

 Megan watched him as he reached out and stroked her brow.

 "Does this make you happy, Megan?"

 Megan did love this man. His first thoughts were always for her. He was such a gentle soul, but strong in body and spirit.

 "Yes, thank you.” As Megan cuddled two pups, they began swatting at her hair. Their bungled attempts at play made her laughter ring out. Suddenly a snarl followed by a ferocious barking came from outside the barn.

 Megan scrambled up. She could sense the panic in the sound. Her heart skipped a beat.

 "What..."

 Richard quickly placed the pups next to their mother and rushed out of the stall. Megan followed him.

 The barking and growling turned into a pained howl. It was the sound of an animal obviously distressed and in agony. Megan rushed forward, passing Richard as she ran outside and around the corner.

 Inside a large fenced enclosure was a huge jet-black wolf. The wolf's hair stood straight up as it snapped at a man outside the pen who was trying to enter. The man had brought healing supplies and was attempting to calm the beast, speaking soothing words, but the wolf would have none of it. Every time the man put his foot inside the pen, the wolf lunged forward. Baring its teeth, the wolf's menacing stance warned him that one more step could be his last.

 Shoulders slumped, the man eased out of the pen just as Megan reached it.

 Richard made his way next to her. Before she could move forward, he wrapped his hand around her arm and anchored her to him. She strained against his hold.

 "Megan, that wolf is injured. She is very dangerous. She has allowed no one to aid her. She was caught in a wolf trap."

 Megan studied the wolf. She noticed that the wolf held her left leg gingerly off the ground, trying not to step down on it. Megan felt the wolf's pain. She raised her hand to her heart. It was thundering, just like the wolf's. The feeling left her lightheaded. She had empathized with animals before, but never to the extent that she felt one with them. These feelings were growing stronger with each animal she cared for.

 She took a deep breath and tried to convey a sense of calm to the wolf, who was staring with deadly intent at the man as he moved forward. When the man put his hand on the pen gate, the wolf tried to lunge at him and stumbled.

 The wolf needed her. “Let me go, Richard. Please."

 The wolf howled. The sound sent a chill spilling down Megan's spine. She turned toward Richard and beseeched him with her eyes.

 "Please.” She tugged her arm from his hand. He let her go, his expression reluctant.

 Megan approached the pen. She projected peace to the animal. The wolf backed up and began to pace, limping as she went. Megan was startled when she heard Richard fall in behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him draw a knife from his boot. She shook her head at him.

 "You stay here.” Megan's hand fell to the pen lock.

 "No, I think not."

 Megan sighed and lifted the latch. “Trust me."

 "I trust you, my beauty. It's the hurt, angry wolf I don't trust."

 Megan laid a hand on his chest over his heart. She could feel the rapid pounding, evidence of his fear. She soothed her hand over his heart, as if she could allay his fear with her touch and soften his unease. It seemed to work. She heard him grunt and knew he had given up the fight. He covered her hand with his.

 "I am asking you to stay here,” Megan pleaded.

 Richard shook his head, released her grip and stepped back.

 "I'm not going far.” He hopped up on top of the pen, where he positioned himself so he could jump off in an instant to defend her if needed.

 Megan nodded, thanking him silently for his faith. She turned and let herself into the pen. The wolf, clearly agitated, strode back and forth. Although it snarled, it didn't attack. Megan squatted down and faced the wolf. She stretched out her hand.

 "Come, darling, come to me. Let me help you."

 The wolf stopped and stared straight at Megan. Her eyes held a menacing red glow, as if she were in a forbidding, unworldly place that no one would dare cross. She growled and bared her teeth at Megan.

 "Come. Don't be afraid."

 With one loud bark as warning, the wolf lunged at Megan. Just before it slammed into Megan, the wolf's body twisted. Panting, the wolf landed two feet from Megan. As its hurt paw hit the ground, Megan sensed the animal's pain.

 At the same instant, Megan felt Richard stiffen.

 "For God's sake,” he called, his voice anguished, “be careful."

 Megan pointed a finger toward him and gave one command. “Stay."

 He growled like her wolf. Her attention went back to the injured animal.

 "Come. Come to me."

 The wolf panted and whined, then lowered herself to the ground, stumbling with her injured leg.

 "I know it hurts. Come, let me help."

 The wolf laid her head on her paws. It was then Megan knew she had succumbed; an instinct she couldn't explain told her all was well. She eased toward the wolf.

 The wolf cried and fell to her side, panting in distress. Megan knelt down and ran her hand over her pelt. The wolf was beautiful. Incredible.

 "Well, baby, let's get you fixed up then.” When Megan rubbed the wolf's face, it nuzzled her hand.

 "Richard, can you get me some supplies to splint her leg?"

 When Megan glanced toward Richard he looked stunned.

 "Richard,” she snapped, and he jolted out of his stupor.

 He waved toward the man outside the pen. “Kell, would you hand me those dressings.” Kell handed over the package he had been trying to bring into the pen with him. Richard tossed it into the pen, straight to Megan's hands.

 "Thank you. Would you leave us now? You make her nervous.” Megan stroked the wolf, gently picking up her paw. The wolf whimpered and growled a bit. Megan cooed gently, settling her.

 "I don't want to leave,” Richard said

 "Trust me. I've done this more times that you can imagine. I know what I'm doing."

 Richard made a snarling noise. He sounded so much like the wolf, Megan hid a smile.

 "God's Blood,” he grumbled, but hopped back onto the other side of the fence, making the leap look easy. Megan took a moment to admire him.

 God, he's beautiful.

 He pushed his shoulder-length hair behind his ear. He oozed virility. Just watching him made her think about his touch, his body pressed against hers in the middle of the night, his lips devouring hers. She wanted him like she had never wanted anything in her life.

 Feeling the wolf's agitation return, she slowed her quickened breathing. The wolf needed her attention now. Daydreaming about Richard could wait. “Dinna fash. I'll be fine."

 He threw up his hands and pointed toward a stand of trees behind the pen. “I'm right there. Call if you have need of me."

 Megan gave him a dimpled smile and winked, then gave her attention to the wolf.

 "Shadow,” she murmured. “That's what I'll call you."

 The wolf looked into her eyes, gratitude and devotion glowing in their brown depths. The freely given affection made her feel a little more cleansed, a little more healed.

 Megan took a long breath and concentrated on projecting her need to heal into Shadow. She felt it then, like the lighting of a torch. It started as a warm tingling in her arms, then traveled to fingers. This was how she healed, this heat. She gave herself wholeheartedly to the sensation. Megan wrapped her hand around Shadow's paw and absorbed the pain of her injury. She inhaled as she felt the pain transfer into her body.

 Megan grunted and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what Richard felt when he took in others pain. Exactly. Shadow whined, then sighed and laid her head down. Megan lifted her fingers, satisfied when she noticed the wound had almost healed on the wolf's leg. She smiled. She never told anyone about her abilities. Glancing at Richard, she was satisfied he hadn't noticed.

 Good, he has enough concerns to worry over.

  

 Chapter Ten

 Richard stilled as Megan helped him strap his claymore to his back. She smoothed the leather around his chest, stroking the dark strap as if she was petting her wolf. Richard let his head fall back while he exhaled.

 "You'll be careful?” she asked.

 Richard dropped his head back down and pulled Megan between his legs. They had returned to Richard's dwelling so he could get ready to travel. He sat on the bed, while Megan helped him strap on his various weapons.

 The wolf, Shadow, rested comfortably in the corner, leg splinted and dead to the world. She had taken on the role of Megan's protector, almost as if Megan herself was a Wolf Warrior.

 Richard was amazed at how docile the angry wolf had become with Megan's touch. However, the more time he spent with Megan, the more the mystery unraveled.

 She has a way about her.

 It was as simple as that. Richard nuzzled Megan's neck where her shoulder met that graceful curve, that lovely line.

 Such a soft, tasty spot.

 He was rapidly losing what little control he had been able to reclaim at the river. She touched him in ways no other had, and not just physically. Sleeping with her for the past few weeks, touching her, marking her as his with his small love bites had stirred something sacred inside him as well.

 He ran his tongue up her neck over one of the angry red scars and claimed her lips. They were ripe, sweet, and tasted better than the finest ale. Richard sipped, filling himself.

 Maybe it's time to take my loving further.

 His hands strayed to her dress and he methodically undid each button. Then he pushed her dress over her shoulders, baring her beautiful breasts. Richard stooped and took a calming breath as he looked at the bounty of her nipples. He began to sweat, the heat of his body reaching furnace proportions. His cock had a life of its own, straining so hard against his breeches that it hurt.

 "Richaaaaard.” Megan cried out his name when he finally claimed her nipple with his mouth. He tasted, nibbled, sucked and settled his teeth on her nipples, lightly tugging. Megan arched into his mouth and Richard felt a small amount of male satisfaction that he could please her so well.

 Oh yes, it's time to heat things up.

 "Yes, my beauty. Enjoy."

 Richard moved to her other nipple. He pushed at her dress until it pooled at her feet and she was naked in his arms. He pressed her to him, running his hands up and down her back until they settled on her ass. He squeezed. Compelled to bring her closer to orgasm, he ran his hands along her cheeks, stroking that untouched area, feeling her tremble. There was a burning need in him so strong it eclipsed all rational thought. He knew her physical scars from her rape had healed, as he knew the past three months had eased the boundaries.

 It is time. I have to taste her. She is ready.

 Richard released her and stood up. He quickly pulled his sword back over his head and dropped it on the ground. Before sensible thoughts stopped him, he picked Megan's naked body up and laid her against the bed. She mewled like a pleased kitten, the sound ratcheting his sense of urgency twofold. He loosened the ties of his breeches to ease the strain on his cock, then bent down and settled himself over Megan's form.

 With his mouth and tongue, Richard sucked his way down her body until he settled between her legs.

 "Oh, God, Richard.” She moaned when his mouth settled on her heated center. He had wanted to drink from her like this from the first moment he saw her. He lapped at her. Separating her folds with his fingers, he latched onto her clit and sucked. She arched off the bed.

 "Ahhhhh."

 "Yes, moan for me, baby.” Richard continued to feast on her wetness. “Come for me.” Richard gently inserted one finger into her while he sucked on her clit. He could feel the pre-cum on his penis. It was straining for release. He tenderly moved his finger in and out. He didn't want to hurt her, but he sensed she was ready for this. He prayed he was right. He wanted to please her so badly. Gently, he pulled on her clit with his teeth. She moaned, her body tensed and bowed.

 Richard groaned with her, he could feel her milking his finger and he could taste her cum. He was ready to explode. Sweat coated his body as he controlled his need to plunge into her. She wasn't ready for that level of penetration. Soon, he thought. Watching her come had been more than satisfying enough ... for now. Her entire body was flushed with her arousal. She was so incredibility beautiful.

 "Yes, baby, enjoy the ride.” Richard stroked her as she rode out the storm.

 "God, Richard, I love you.” As she admitted what Richard already knew, he smiled against her. He kissed her a final time, then eased up over her body, pulling her to his side. He gritted his teeth as his cock strained out of his loosened breeches.

 God, I want to bury myself in her.

 He knew she wasn't ready yet. He reached into his breeches and touched his penis, thinking maybe he needed to release some of the pressure. Megan's hand pushed his aside. The minute her small hand wrapped around him, he wondered if he was going to immediately come.

 "Show me how to ease your need."

 Richard heart stuttered; he looked into her eyes and opened his senses to be certain she was serious.

 She was.

 He carefully wrapped her hand around his dick. Her tentative strokes nearly drove him over the edge.

 "May I taste you as you did me?"

 Richard's hand stilled on hers.

 "Megan, love, you can do anything to me your heart desires."

 Richard nearly fell over the edge when she gifted him with her dimpled smile.

 She shimmied down his body. At first she simply explored his penis with her hands. When she leaned down and touched him with her mouth, Richard almost came. He arched into her mouth.

 "Show me,” she pleaded.

 Richard shifted her to his most sensitive spot, showed her where to lick, where to suck.

 "Yes. Yes,” he groaned.

 I'm going to come.

 He was on fire. Her tongue wet his dick, then her mouth eased down on his erection. Despite her inexperience she was driving him hotter than he had ever been. His body tensed and his hands fell to her hair, caressing her.

 Oh God.

 Richard was beyond coherent thought. He was simply feeling, his senses open to her touch. It was so incredibly good, so good.

 "Megan, honey, I'm going to come into your mouth if you don't stop.” Even that much warning had been difficult for Richard to utter.

 "Yes, do, I want to have all of you."

 Richard tried not to pump too hard as she sucked and licked him. Her tongue caressed his balls, then she moved back to his dick. She was learning way too fast, Richard thought, sweat trickling down his face.

 She is such a passionate innocent.

 Richard locked his hands over his head so he wouldn't force her head further down on his cock, which was what he really wanted to do. A tingle started at the base of Richard's spine, then radiated toward his cock. His hips drove faster as she took him fully into the depths of her mouth, as if she sensed his desires. Richard's hands opened and he grabbed the coverlet, squeezing. He arched, crying out, coming with an explosion of white light.

 Megan took all of his essences, seemingly undisturbed by swallowing his cum; she licked her lips and kissed his dick one final time. Then she moved up his body to kiss him, her mouth open. He tasted both of them in that kiss, Megan's cum, his juices. It was remarkable.

 He smiled; she smiled back, her dimples making his heart clench.

 "That was incredible. Can we do that again sometime?” Her innocent question made him laugh.

 "Are you sure? Are you all right?” He hugged her to him. He wanted to make sure she wasn't experiencing any memories of the rape.

 "Anything I do with you lessens my horrible experience with that horrible man. Anything. I welcome your touch like no other.” As she spoke, her smile dimmed, her eyes welled up and a single tear ran down her face.

 Richard reached out and wiped the tear away. He pulled her head onto his chest.

 I will kill those bastards for what they have done to her.

 Although the vow was silent, he made it wholeheartedly. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

 "You and I, my beauty, can do much more than that. And when I return, I will show you."

 "Truly?” She lifted her head from his chest and gifted him with her dimpled smile. He touched one of the dimples on her check.

 "Truly."

 Richard hugged Megan to him and planned how he was going to keep his silent vow.

 "Come with me to see your father, Megan."

 She dropped her head and was quiet.

 "I will be with you. Your father will need to see you. You know this."

 She nodded and looked up at him.

 "Please, Megan."

 "You'll stay will me."

 Richard folded her hands into his.

 "Yes, my beauty."

 "I'll go with you then."

  

 Chapter Eleven

 Apprehensive about returning home, Megan paused next to Serena. Roan whispered in Serena's ear as she rested in the circle his arms. Megan envied their closeness. They shared a deep, abiding love that tied them together.

 A love like Megan hoped to have someday with Richard.

 She realized she needed to make this journey, but facing her family was the last thing she wanted to do. Even though she knew in her mind what happened wasn't her fault, she still felt as if she was bringing dishonor to her clan.

 Roan and Richard vaulted onto their horses. They were both strong, masculine men and sexy as hell. One dark and one light, together they had an allure that left her breathless.

 Serena laid her arm around Megan's shoulders. Serena had become a sister to her in the last few months. Without her and Richard's support, Megan wondered if she would have taken her own life. There had been times she felt close to that. But they had helped her realized life was worth living and love was worth having.

 "Remember what I have taught you, my friend,” Serena said.

 Megan fingered the small sword on her back that Serena had given her. For the past three months, as part if the healing process, Serena had been teaching her how to defend herself. Not only did the lessons help her injuries mend, they also gave her a confidence she had never had. If she were attacked now, the outcome might be different.

 "You have your dagger?” Serena asked.

 Megan pointed to her boot, where a small, yet deadly dagger was hidden.

 Serena nodded, and guided Megan to Richard. He reached down and lifted Megan in front of him on the horse.

 "Remember, my friend,” Serena said, “strength is in the mind, not in the brawn. If needed, use your skills wisely and you will prevail."

 Megan reached down and encircled Serena's arm with her hand. "A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne."

 Serena wrapped her hand around Megan's and returned the Solarian vow. "A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne."

 As Richard turned the horse to leave, Serena stepped out of the way. She pointed at Roan and he halted his steed.

 "You, my husband, will come back safe."

 Roan smiled and, without warning, he leaned down and hauled his wife into his arms. His farewell kiss was hearty and long. Serena sighed as he guided her back to the ground.

 "A'Don ar Cuid-ne,I protect my own. You, wife, take care of our son."

 Serena laughed and placed her hand on her stomach.

 "How long have you known?"

 Roan pointed back at her. “From the minute she was conceived, li'l one."

 "Go with God and my love, husband."

 Before Roan could leave, an insistent barking and a flash of black came running. Shadow. Serena stopped the wolf with a wave. Shadow sat, tail wagging, her eyes beseeching Megan's.

 "It would seem, Megan, you have a friend who demands you not leave her."

 Shadow had healed quickly under Megan's attention. Although not fully mended, her splint was strong and she had resumed a normal gait.

 Roan moved forward and signaled for Serena to lift Shadow to his saddle.

 "I will take her, Megan, she will not be any trouble."

 Shadow wiggled in Roan's grasp. He rode next to Richard so Shadow could relay her thanks by bathing Megan's face. She laughed and pushed Shadow away.

 "All right, Shadow, mind Roan and don't be a bother."

 Shadow gave one bark and settled in Roan's arms.

 With one final farewell wave, Roan trotted behind Richard.

 * * * *

 It took three days of unhurried riding to reach her village. There were sentries along the way, who sent word to Megan's parents of her arrival. Megan recognized what those lookouts signified.

 The feud has again reared its ugly head.

 Her mother and father paced anxiously as they rode into the village. Richard stopped and slid off his horse, and tugged Megan into his arms lowering her to the ground. No sooner had her feet touched the ground then her mother came running and launched herself into Megan arms. Megan's tears matched her mother's. Richard kept a hand on her shoulder to lend his strength.

 It killed him to see Megan's grief ... He felt her pain as if it were his own.

 "By the Gods, Megan, we thought you were lost to us. We searched and searched but to no avail. Thank God you are safe."

 Megan pulled back from her mother's embrace only to be enveloped by her father.

 "Daughter, where in God's name have you been?” Between tears, Megan reached for Richard's hand and drew him forward.

 "Richard found me. He is a healer. He nursed me back to health."

 "A healer. Back to health?” The McKinney pinned Richard with his look. Although Richard understood he was skeptical, he also sensed her father's newfound approval of their relationship, happiness the laird was trying to hide from Megan.

 "Where inna God's name have you been? How were you injured? What happened?"

 "Father.” Megan's faltering voice stopped her father's questions. “Let us go somewhere quiet and private to discuss what has come to pass."

 As if remembering they were in the middle of the village, the McKinney nodded and let Megan formally introduce him and his wife to Richard, Roan, and Shadow. The greetings over, he led them to the Laird's cottage where they all crowded together in the simple stone settlement.

 "The truce between the McKinneys and the MacGregors has been desecrated, daughter,” he said.

 Megan sighed.

 "That is what they wanted, Father. For the clans to start warring again. I heard the men say as much. If we kill each other, there's less for the English to battle."

 Leaving out the parts that were too painful to tell, Megan gave her father a shortened version of her story, explaining to him what she had heard her tormentor say. He was furious beyond recognition. Megan's mother wept in sorrow.

 Her father's jaw was set. He refused to change his mind. He was determined to believe his false conclusion. It was as if he could deny with a negative shake of his head all the bloodshed and killing that had pointlessly begun after Megan was taken.

 "What of Aimee and Stephen's marriage? What of that?"

 "They have been apart since you left. There was evidence, a MacGregor tartan left by the river where you were seized. How could I have ignored that evidence?"

 "Father...” Megan abruptly stood and paced, tears running unchecked down her face. Richard could sense her agitation. The stress of retelling the account was visible.

 Despite the fact that her parents were witness, he rose from the table and approached Megan. He came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. Drawing her back into his body, he rested his chin on top of her head. Richard could sense her father's annoyance, but he did not care.

 "Calm, my beauty, calm.” As Richard stroked Megan's arms, he felt her melt against him. “All will be well."

 Megan sighed and eased away to face her father.

 "I have explained, but you are not listening. This is not what it has been set up to seem. Keeping Stephen and Aimee apart will not help. I demand a meeting with the MacGregor laird, and I plead for you to allow Stephen and Aimee to be together."

 "Megan..."

 "Father, this is not a request. I ask a boon and expect you to give it to me considering...” She swallowed and shook her head. “I want to tell the MacGregor all that has happened. I want the useless killing to cease."

 She paused as Shadow slid up and licked her hand. Stooping down, she wrapped her arms around the wolf.

 "Don't you see?” Anguish rang in her voice. “All that has happened, all that I have experienced, will be for naught. They will have won."

 Her father dropped his chin, then finally nodded. “Aye."

 Megan released Shadow and stood. Richard approached her and tipped her chin, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

 "Are you sure?” He searched her face. He felt the resurgence of pain racking through her mind after telling her own family what had happened. How much worse would it be to tell it to the other clan?

 For now, though, he could help her. He opened his senses to absorb some of her pain.

 As Richard tensed, he knew Megan realized what he was doing. She pulled out of his arms, away from him.

 "Richard, you have sheltered me long enough. It's time for me to help myself."

 He nodded as she turned to her father.

 "I want the MacGregor here within three days,” she said, determination strengthening her voice.

 Megan's father growled, but Megan put up a hand.

 "He will come, Father. This is as much his fight as yours. How many have died since you rekindled this feud?"

 The McKinney's shoulders dropped and his answer was slow to come. “Many, daughter. Too many."

 Megan reached for Richard's hand. She led him toward the door.

 "Father, please show Roan and Shadow where they may bed down this eve. I will take care of Richard."

 Without waiting for her father's answer, she strolled into the pitch dark with Richard.

 They walked in silence for a time before she finally spoke. “Why do you continue to absorb my pain when I have asked you to cease?"

 Richard gazed at the sky as they strode on. Even though he couldn't find a flicker of starlight to show him his surroundings, he guessed where Megan was taking him. As they broke through the border of bushes and trees that concealed their spring, Richard released Megan's hand and strolled to the water. He ran his hand over the glassy surface. The water was calm now, a lovely slice of peace, one that he was going to break.

 "Do you remember, my beauty, when you first tried to touch me?"

 Megan moved next to him. “I remember."

 Richard grabbed Megan's arm and hauled her into his body. “It was here. You tried to push my hair off my brow, do you recall?"

 Megan nodded and lifted her hand. She didn't touch him, her palm hovering next to his face.

 "But I wouldn't let you, would I?"

 She shook her head.

 "I wouldn't let you because I was afraid. Because I was a coward.” Megan tried to protest and Richard covered her lips with his fingers.

 "No, let me say this. I was a coward. I gave up my vocation because I could no longer absorb the pain of others. I failed."

 She murmured denial and her hand rested against his cheek.

 Richard stroked her lips, reveling in their softness. “I absorb your pain, my beauty, because I love you. Because you have healed me—I, in turn, desire to heal you."

 He kissed her, a mutual meeting of lips. His tongue touched hers and he sucked it into his mouth. He pulled back, releasing her lips but not his hold on her.

 "You have made my life worth living, Megan, and for that...” Richard repeated his kiss, drawing Megan against his straining erection, “—you will never rid yourself of my touch."

 * * * *

 Megan sighed against Richard's mouth. Kissing him was pure heaven, like the caress of the warm sun on a cool spring evening. His hands were all over her, touching, stoking a blaze in her fueled by her need. Heat stole up from her toes, through her legs and still upward over her breasts, climbing to the top of her head.

 Richard began to undress her. Languidly he bared her breasts, then reached down to suck her nipples, leaving them straining, wet, and directly connected to the fire in her. He attended to each nipple, his mouth leaving a damp trail as he tongued his way to the other. Megan arched into his mouth, her hands resting on his silky hair, cupping him to her. This feeling, the touch of this man's mouth on her skin, was beyond incredible; it was an exotic lesson in passion that Megan was beginning to crave.

 Without realizing how it had happened, her dress pooled around her feet and he was lowering her to the mossy ground underneath her. His lips moved downward from her breasts. He savored every inch of sensitive skin on Megan's body and some she didn't even realize she had. Then he reached her clit where he licked, sucked and tasted.

 Megan cried out. “Yeeees! Yeeees!"

 Richard moaned, and she writhed against him. He drove her crazy; he was deliberately working her into a sensual frenzy. She reached down and pushed at his clothes.

 "Take them off."

 At her demand, he sat up and began to remove his garments. Megan rose to her knees to assist him. Her fingers trembled in anticipation. She wanted him so badly, wanted to freely give him what had been so violently taken from her. Through a shaky meeting of hands that hindered more than helped, they managed to strip him naked.

 Megan loved the feel of his skin, rough yet in some places so soft. She ran her hands over his muscled chest, around his nipples, then down past his stomach to cup his penis. She felt it, like his skin, so soft yet hard. Megan circled the head with her fingers and sighed with pleasure.

 Richard forced his body into stillness, watching her while she stroked her hand over his cock, pulling, tugging, exploring. Finally, he leaned his head back and groaned.

 She is killing me.

 She looked up at him, her eyes shining with mischief and knowledge, and in that instant he knew. He had waited for her to be fully ready, and she was. The time was now. The time was here. He opened his senses; they exploded with desire.

 His waiting was over.

 "Ahhhh.” Richard arched his back as Megan lips fell against his chest. She wrapped her hands around his ass and pressed her body to his, chest-to-chest and stomach-to-stomach, his engorged cock squeezed between them. He lowered his head and claimed her lips with a savage kiss. His arms slipped around her; leaning, he eased back and drew Megan on top of him.

 "Take what you want. Take all of me,” he whispered as he captured her mouth. He pulled her legs over his until she straddled him, her pussy coming into direct contact with his straining cock. He drew back, running small kisses along Megan's jaw, arching into her, his cock barely touching her damp heat.

 "Take me inside of you. Make us one. Make me whole."

 Megan reared up at Richard's request. Her gaze strayed to where they were almost joined, his erection pausing at her wet entrance. Then her eyes met his. His lips were parted, his mouth wet from her kisses and her juices. He smelled like a man, sweat and dirt, a unique earthy smell that was so Richard, so appealing to her, it was as if God made his scent just for her to enjoy. His chest rose and fell with his labored puffs of air.

 This is so much better than I imagined.

 Tears welled in Megan's eyes as she stared at him. He was so manly, so incredible, and all hers.

 He reached up and fingered the splash off her cheek. “Megan,” he began.

 Megan swooped down to ravish his mouth, stopping his words. Rising, she smiled. Then she reached down and guided him into her. Slowly, inch by inch, she absorbed him, enjoying ever second of his penetration.

 Oh God, this is amazing.

 His moan gave her gratification beyond anything she had ever known. Pleasing him pleased her a hundred times over.

 "Oh, Richard."

 She unconsciously moved, impaling herself on him, then rising up. Her hips began an instinctual rhythm. Richard's hands clutched her hips in an almost painful grip, raising her up as her hips moved down.

 It's not enough.

 Richard must have been keyed into her thoughts because he immediately shifted and rolled her over. Settling himself between her legs, he wrapped them around his hips. He plunged into her, filling her. She cried out, her hands clutching his back. His strokes sure, he gained in speed, pulling almost all the way out, then pushing back in.

 His lips claimed hers, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips. Megan hung on to him, gasping. She tingled all over. Something was building up inside her, just out of reach. A great pleasure that only Richard could give her.

 Richard pumped into her, groaning. His little moaning noise, his rapid panting, set her heart pounding.

 "Richard, God, Richard,” Megan cried out as she splintered, her body bowing up into his.

 His large hands cradling her lower back, he made one final plunge, followed by a howl that rivaled Caine's. He stiffened, his breath labored as he pulled her body to his. He buried his face in her hair, his heart hammering, the tension slowly abating from his body.

 "Ummmm.” Megan fingered his beautiful hair, running her hands through the sweat-soaked strands.

 He moved to her side, keeping them joined, and ran his hand over her cheek into her hair. “Is that a good ummmm?"

 "Oh yes, definitely.” Megan traced her hands down his arms, joining her fingers with his; she drew their joined hands around to her ass, settling them there.

 "We should have done that a long time ago."

 Richard laughed but moistness filled his eyes, and he sent a silent prayer of thank you to the dark sky.

 Then Megan shifted closer to him. Despite the fact that she had milked his cock, it seemed to be have a mind of its own. It hardened again. He chuckled and tugged Megan into his body. Megan's eyebrows arched up in question.

 "We can make up for that now, if you like.” Richard hooked his leg around and pushed Megan onto her back, thrusting into her; his sense of urgency had abated, but not his need to claim her all over again.

 "Truly?"

 Richard took her mouth and rocked hard into her, showing her exactly what he meant. She moaned.

 "Truly,” he whispered as he unhurriedly drove himself and his future wife to another orgasm.

 It was a long night of loving for both of them. Richard had three months of celibacy to make up for. This was only the beginning.

  

 Chapter Twelve

 "My scout at the village tells me she has returned. There is to be a truce, a gathering of the Lairds. She has called the meeting, Ream. There is talk...” The messenger ceased speaking when he saw the expression on Ream's face.

 Ream Grogan slammed down the draft of ale he had just lifted to his mouth. He immediately drew his claymore and held the point against his lackey's neck, drawing blood.

 "You better be tellin’ me the truth, man, or I will kill ya where ya stand."

 Ream was well into his cups and enjoying the newfound wealth the feud had gifted him. He had a woman tied up in his chambers at this moment awaiting his forced pleasure. Ever since he had raped that McKinney bitch, his desires had grown darker. He was traveling farther to kidnap women, and it was taking longer and longer for him to come. Nothing compared to raping that fiery red-haired whore.

 That bitch has ruined me.

 The lackey with the sword held to his throat trembled, and promptly released his bladder. “Ream, as God is my witness, I tell the truth. I saw it with my own eyes. Before I came, I checked what the spy told me."

 Ream pulled back his sword. The lackey's legs buckled and he slid down into his own piss. Even as Ream swore, he felt an immense satisfaction knowing he might finally get his hands on that bitch again. Using the heavy claymore, he hacked the wooden chair to bits.

 He wished she sat in it. He wanted to see her scream with terror. He wanted to hear her plead with him not to hurt her. He wanted to fuck her raw.

 "Gather the few men I have told you to trust."

 The messenger held his hand to his throat to stop the flowing blood. “What goes?” he gasped out.

 Ream pointed his sword and screamed, “Do what I have told ya, little man. Question me again and that piss will be your last."

 The man bobbed his head and scrambled up. Ream slowly sheathed his sword. “Guess it's time to reclaim my woman.” He pulled his cape off the wall. “And this time, I'll rid her of this world for good."

  

 Chapter Thirteen

 "Get on your hands and knees."

 "Richard. Ahhhhh.” Megan dropped to her hands and knees on the edge of the bed and moaned as he entered her from behind. He drove into her so deep, Megan was sure his hard cock was touching her womb.

 Richard stood behind Megan, his knees against the mattress, his breeches dropped down around his ankles, hands on her hips. As he drew out then plunged into her softness again, she moaned.

 "Shhhhh.” Richard lightly placed a hand over her mouth. Smiling, he leaned over and tenderly bit her shoulder, marking her as his. Then he sucked the same spot hard, licking the mark with his tongue.

 She whimpered louder.

 "Meeegaaan.” Megan's mother's lilting voice filtered through the thatched sides of her cousin's hutch. Richard stopped moving and tightened his hand on Megan's mouth. They both froze.

 "Meeegaaan.” Megan sucked in her breath as her mother's call faded farther and farther away. Richard slid his hand off her mouth. She couldn't help it. She started to giggle.

 Richard draped his body over hers, his cock still rock hard and buried to the hilt in her wetness.

 "God's Blood, woman, this is your fault."

 Megan huffed, then softened when Richard wrapped his arms around her and kissed her shoulder.

 "Megan...” He began to move again, slowly at first, then with more urgency. “I have to...” Megan groaned as her orgasm began to overtake her, “...finish.” Richard drove in and out several more times, his strokes becoming hurried, his hands clutching her hips. Then he held back a groan and stiffened. Megan slid over the edge with him, her body convulsing around his cock as he spurted his seed into her.

 * * * *

 When the pounding of his heart slowed, Richard drew out and lifted Megan like a baby. He sat on the bed, holding Megan in his arms. Dropping his head, he devoured her lips like he was starved. As if they hadn't just stolen the third lovemaking session of the day. Finally, he drew back and looked at her.

 "You're killing me, lass.” He raised his foot to show her his breeches dangling from his ankle. “I didn't get my breeches off this time."

 Megan laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

 "Well, you were standing there,” Megan pointed to the side of the bed, “and I was sitting here,” she tapped the bed, “and that,” she pointed to his semi-erect penis, “was just a mouthful away.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And my cousin was not to return for hours..."

 "And you just couldn't help yourself?” Richard raised his eyebrows at her innocent dimpled smile.

 She lifted her hands in surrender. “Actually, well, umm ... No.” She started kissing his jaw line, nibbling downward until her mouth met that sensitive area of his neck. The place he hadn't known was an erotic zone until she'd innocently found it.

 His cock immediately perked back up.

 "Megan, at least let me remove my breeches and love you properly."

 Megan did more than that; she removed them for him.

 They had been like this for two days. Sneaking around, making love anywhere and everywhere they could. There was a peculiar excitement at coupling right under her parents’ noses.

 Richard was going crazy trying to keep up with her; Megan was leading him to insanity with her desire to have his cock buried in her all the time. Yet his stubborn woman had yet to agree to marry him. He tried to quell his discouragement, telling himself Megan was too apprehensive about the next day's meeting to think straight.

 * * * *

 A little while later, they lazed by the river. While Richard exercised Shadow, Megan had a revelation.

 "Yes."

 Richard pivoted toward Megan. Giving her a curious expression, he picked up another rock and threw it for Shadow. The wolf went sailing off after it, into the water. She had almost healed now, her youthful energy apparent in her play and her quick ability to mend.

 "Yes, what, my beauty?"

 Megan smiled at his phrase. There was a time when she thought she would never be able to love that endearment again, but now she did. She loved it almost as much as she loved him.

 He stood there—almost two heads taller than she, and four men stronger, with his ice-green gaze and sculpted muscles—and threw the heaviest rock with the ease of a pebble. He was so completely handsome, his dark hair lifting with the wind, that he took her breath away. She held a hand to her heart.

 "Yes, I'll marry you, my Raven."

 He dropped the rock he had been about to throw and rushed to her. Picking her up, he hugged her tightly.

 "You're not jesting with me? Truly?"

 She smiled and he sighed.

 "Truly."

  

 Chapter Fourteen

 Richard trod softly on the grass, dropping down next to Shadow at his and Megan's favorite spot, the hot spring. The past couple of days he had developed very fond memories of this location, christening it every chance he got with Megan panting underneath him.

 God, I can't get enough of her,he thought, watching her lovely back as she bathed in the waters.

 She had a power in her touch that burned him every time he laid a hand on her. She had an addictive fire he was drawn toward, like a moth to a flame. But this blaze wasn't dangerous—it was beautiful, sensual, and passionate, and it was all his.

 Shadow greeted him by laying her head on his thigh. She had healed fully since Megan had been treating her. If he didn't know any better, he would say Megan had a supernatural healing ability that was stronger than his. Even Megan's father had boasted about Megan's ability to heal animals. Richard stretched out his legs, crossing them. Propping his upper body with his elbows, he admired every bare inch of her.

 "Your father seemed pleased."

 Megan shrieked and spun around. She held a bar of soap to her chest as if it were a shield.

 "Richard! You nearly scared the life out of me."

 Richard jumped up as Megan climbed out of the water. He saw her fear in the tenseness in her face, heard it in the tremble in her voice, but most of all, he felt it in his own gut. When she hurt, he hurt. He immediately regretted his impulsive act.

 "Ahhh.” He folded her into his arms. “I am sorry, sometimes I don't think."

 * * * *

 Megan released her pent up breath when his arms engulfed her. She briefly clutched her arms around his back, then pulled back to look at him. She brushed an errant lock of dark hair off his brow.

 "Don't worry yourself. I am fine and, yes, Father seemed pleased by our impending marriage.” She mentally chased her demons away and smiled at him. She needed to be strong and work her way past her fears.

 "I think he, perhaps, realized that we...” Megan caressed his cheek as she spoke. He leaned into her hand. The feel of his warm skin heating her cold hands was intoxicating and she wanted more. “...That we are acting newly wed."

 "Ughhh, does he?” Richard grinned and squeezed Megan back into his arms. “We haven't been very subtle at masking our desires,” he said.

 Megan shrugged her shoulders and waved her hand, not caring anymore what her family believed. She loved this man and soon he would be hers, forever.

 "Help me dress, please."

 He chuckled as he unbuckled his scabbard, slipping his sword to the ground. Keeping his gaze locked to hers, he unbuttoned each loop of his shirt, then dropped it carelessly to cover his sword.

 "I think not,” he declared as he ran his hand around her back to cup her rear, pressing her against his erection. His hands rough on her smooth skin, he squeezed her cheeks.

 Megan blushed. “We must be going..."

 He kissed her, his mouth mating with hers.

 "The MacGregor will be here in three hours,” she said, pulling back, panting.

 He moved forward, his tongue thrusting into her open mouth.

 "Ahhhh,” she moaned.

 "Three hours is a long time, my beauty,” he murmured.

 She tugged his head closer in apparent agreement.

 * * * *

 Ream signaled to the four men behind him, making a sign with his hands for them to be quiet. He froze. His mouth tilted into a grin as he listened to the man and woman. Perfect, just perfect. It was time to end this. He had guessed he would find the redheaded bitch and the foreign idiot at the springs. Here they were unprotected, naked, and ripe for the killing.

 All the better. He'd kill them both. Screw taking the bitch as his. It was time to rid himself of both of them. Signaling to his men to circle around the couple, he prepared to attack.

 * * * *

 A chill ran down Richard's spine as his lips touched Megan's. He jerked his head up. His ears straining to determine what had disturbed him, he gazed intently toward the forest. Megan also stopped, silent, realizing something was wrong. Shadow pulled up from her lounging position to a defensive stance, a ferocious growling emanating from her throat, the hair on her back standing on end.

 A sensation pulled at Richard. It was the same feeling he got right before battle, when the enemy was near. He released Megan and reached for his sword. At the same time, four men burst out of the forest and surrounded them. They brandished swords, death writ across their brutal faces. They meant to kill him and Megan. He saw malice in the tightness of their lips, the hardness of their eyes. He guessed these were the men who had abducted Megan.

 One by one, he would kill them.

 He unsheathed his sword. The hushed noise of metal scraping against leather was deafening. He pushed Megan behind him. Everyone was quiet. In that second he could have heard a pine cone drop from the tree with ease.

 Then all hell broke lose.

 "Kill them,” the biggest man commanded.

 Megan screamed and dropped on the ground, reaching toward her clothes. Richard wielded his sword from left to right, holding off the four well-armed mercenaries.

 Shadow attacked the closest man, biting his ankles. He screamed and fell. The wolf seized the mercenary by his neck.

 Three swords aimed for parts of Richard's body. He dipped and moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. The man on the left tried to follow him and stumbled. Richard lunged forward and sliced him through the heart. He pulled out his sword, the tip red. The man tumbled to the ground.

 One down, two to go.

 Richard made a silent cry to Roan.

 Roan, we are under attack. Bring assistance. Hurry.

 Even as he sent out his message, he knew it would be too late. The village was close, but not close enough for Roan to reach them in time. Through the metallic clash of swords came the distant roar of Roan's battle cry, like faraway thunder. Richard took his focus off the man in front of him to make sure Megan was all right.

 She was crawling on her hands and knees toward her pile of clothes on the grassy knoll. A sword swiped just past Richard's nose, claiming his attention. Turning back to the two swordsmen, Richard fought hard, planning to keep them too busy to go after her.

 Shadow was doing an admirable job tearing apart one of the four men with her strong teeth. Richard didn't worry about the outcome of that fight. Megan was his main concern. He tried to back up as he sliced his sword from one man to the next, drawing the two men away from Megan.

 Suddenly his shoulder was pierced from behind.

 Damn, a fifth man.

 Richard dropped to one knee, hissing in pain. He was renowned for his uncanny ability to sense his enemies, but his concern for Megan clouded his senses, making him miss this new enemy. The cut in his shoulder was deep. Blood spurted down his arm. Richard pulled a dagger from his boot.

 Turning, he flung the dagger at his enemy. The man's eyes widened in shock. The dagger speared his scrawny throat. He crumpled to the ground. Blood gurgled in his throat as his eyes glazed over.

 Richard stumbled back, taking the other two men with him. He tried to hold his remaining weapon steady, but the cut in his shoulder weakened his sword arm. I have to keep them occupied,he thought in desperation as a sword sliced into his side.

 The tallest of the men, who appeared to be the leader, peered over his shoulder and noticed Megan. He stepped back from the fighting.

 "Noooo.” Richard rushed after the man, only to be stopped short by the other swordsman. Although Richard fought with the power of a madman, his wounds sapped his strength. The other swordsman fought harder and with more skill than Richard expected. Traitors were not usually from the first rank.

 Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tall man reach for Megan.

 "Ahhh, how are you, my beauty?” The tall man grabbed Megan by her hair.

 Megan's scream drove Richard over the edge. That man would not defile his woman. He spun around to avoid a blade. Using his momentum, he swung his sword over his head. With a war cry, he hit the swordsman on the neck, nearly severing his head from his shoulder. The man dropped like a stone, blood gushing from the cavernous wound.

 Richard sagged. The loss of blood from his shoulder was beginning to sap his energy as the adrenaline rush ebbed. He stumbled toward Megan with only one thought on his mind. Megan. I have to save her.

 But what he saw stopped him, a cry tearing from his throat. His beautiful woman, naked and trembling, stood with her hands clasped in front of her, a sharp dagger held to her neck.

 "Richard!” Megan screamed his name as he swayed on his feet.

 He shifted his sword to his left hand, hoping to relieve the pressure on his sword arm.

 "Drop your weapon or I will kill her right now.” The tall man laughed, showing rotting teeth. “I've had her once. Don't think I won't do it again. With you watching."

 Richard shook his head. He knew in his heart this man would kill Megan the first chance he got. Richard saw the blood lust in his dung-colored eyes and sensed the devil on his shoulder.

 The tall Scotsman pulled the dagger closer to Megan's throat, drawing a thin red line. Blood seeped down her neck. Richard strained to throw off his control. Take the man who'd hurt her before and was hurting her again. He wanted to lunge at the villain, fulfilling his vow of revenge. Yet blackness was beginning to edge around his consciousness.

 God, I can't fall now.

 He tried to keep blackness at bay even as he felt his legs growing weak. Megan's eyes locked with his. In the green depths, he saw fear and longing, love and loss.

 "Megan,” Richard whispered as he fell to one knee. Blood flowed down his arm, a crimson waterfall, soaking his breeches. His head was becoming light. He shook it, attempting to focus.

 "You appear to be a little worse for wear,” the leader mocked.

 Richard took his eyes off the man and focused on Shadow. The wolf stood with her fangs bared, concentrating on the man holding Megan. Yet Shadow didn't move closer, as if she knew the consequences would be death.

 "Let me go. This will prove nothing.” Megan's calm voice drew Richard's attention back to her.

 He had to hold back a cry. Her visage was growing dim. The world seemed to be moving slowly. Each breath was becoming a feat.

 "Richard,” Megan said, “stay with me. Stay with me. I love you.” He tried to focus on her voice, but her voice was growing distant.

 "I think your mon's done in, my beauty. ‘Tis a shame, after playing out such a loving scene.” He laughed and his hand covered Megan's naked breast.

 Richard growled. Then he felt energy infuse him, heat burrowing into his muscles, slowing the blood flowing down his shoulder. It was his love for Megan, he knew, resurrecting him to life from near death.

 He looked down at Shadow. The wolf's gaze was still fixed on Megan, waiting for a signal.

 As if Richard were outside his body, he watched Megan reach up. Grabbing her kidnapper's arms, she stamped on his instep. He screamed and loosened his hold on her neck. She dropped to the ground.

 Richard snapped back inside his body. As Shadow lunged straight toward the kidnapper's neck, Richard vaulted forward, his sword steady in his grip, as if he'd never been hurt.

 Just as he and Shadow were about to converge on the man, Megan pulled a dagger from between her hands. With a shout, she plunged it into his heart, wrenching it upwards.

 He yelled and fell backwards. Richard thrust his sword forward, just below Megan's dagger, slicing deep into his chest like butter. Before the villain's head reached the ground, Shadow grabbed his dirty neck in her strong teeth. She shook him, her teeth embedded in his throat, blood gushing out over her muzzle.

 Richard released his sword. It stood hilt up, buried in the man's chest.

 The surge of strength emptied from Richard's body as fast and mysteriously as it had come. His knees gave out as he sank down, his strength spent. He felt the blood pouring down his arm again as he slipped back onto the ground and rested his head on the dirt.

 His heartbeat began to slow. He knew the signs. He was bleeding out fast. He was dying. With each pump of his heart, his life's blood was seeping away too quickly to be replaced.

 Megan dropped to her knees beside him. Crying, she placed her hands on his wounds and pressed, trying to stop the bleeding. Richard cried out in pain and arched up.

 "Richard. Stay with me. Don't you die on me.” Her tears mingled with the river of blood flowing out of his body.

 He stared at her face, trying to memorize her features and take her image into heaven or hell with him.

 "Megan, it's no use,” he said, his voice weak. “The sword cut through a vein. I've bled too much. There is naught you can do."

 Roan burst through the bushes followed by the MacGregor and a dozen of the McKinney's best men, all armed.

 "Richard.” Roan dropped down next to Megan. Quickly assessing the situation, he grasped Richard's hand. “God, be merciful."

 "Richard, you will not die. Do you hear me?"Megan screamed.

 He closed his eyes as blackness came to greet him, touching the outer cusp of his mind.

 "You will not die,” Megan said, her voice this time a command.

 Then her hand curved over his injury. A burning fire shot from Megan's hand into Richard's shoulder. It felt as if a lightning bolt struck him. He cried out; the pain was excruciating. His eyes shot wide open. He watched Megan.

 Her eyes were closed, her breathing ragged. She grunted in pain. He saw an almost gray aura surrounding her, pulsating around her body. The pain that had been so unbearable began to abate from Richard's shoulder. At the same time, she whimpered.

 It was then Richard realized what she was doing. Somehow she was taking his pain into her.

 "Megaaan. Do not...” Richard screamed her name as fire shot into his body again, leaving him breathless. Panting, he began to sweat. He tried to focus and add his power to hers; he wanted to help her absorb his pain. Before he could concentrate any further, he felt as if someone knocked him in the head. Then the blackness finally welled up and claimed him.

 * * * *

 Megan dropped her head. Breathing hard, she tried to calm her pounding heart. Someone draped a cape over her shoulders as she lifted her hands from Richard's wound. She had never healed a cut so thoroughly. The gaping wound was gone; in its place was a small hairline scar. She guessed Richard's abilities had combined with hers to create such a powerful result.

 "Megan.” Roan reached down and lifted her into his arms. Shadow barked, dancing around them.

 "Shh,” Megan soothed. She was so tired, as if the healing had sapped away her strength. She tried to lift her head, but it fell back against Roan's arm.

 Shadow gave one last bark and grew quiet. Roan jerked his chin toward Megan's father then toward Richard.

 "Can you bring him, McKinney?"

 "Aye,” her father answered.

 Megan closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.

  

 Chapter Fifteen

 Richard reared up on the cot. “Megan!” he screamed. Blood was pulsing through his head, a hammer pounding inside his skull as if the God of Thunder was trying to knock his way out.

 "Shhhh."

 Richard glanced toward the sound. He felt instant relief when he spied Roan, his legs propped up on the second bed, polishing his sword as if he didn't have a care in the world.

 Roan gingerly pulled his feet off the bed, stood and sheathed his sword. He pointed toward the bed next to Richard's cot, placing a finger to his mouth to keep Richard silent. Giving him a wink, he left, pulling the door shut behind him.

 Turned toward him, Megan slept with her hands curled under her cheek like a small girl. She looked blissfully whole and healthy, her cheeks pink and her expression serene. Relief filled Richard. He had to blink away tears of joy.

 He moved out of his cot and eased into bed with her. More than anything else, he needed to be next to her. As if sensing him even in her sleep, she stirred against him, placing her hand over his heart. He couldn't explain what had happened today, didn't even want to. What he did know was that he was alive and so was she. That was all that mattered.

 Richard tenderly kissed her awake. Her lips parted. She made a little mewing noise, and gave him her lips. “Richard,” she leaned back and stroked his jaw, “how do you feel?"

 Richard rotated his shoulder, surprised that he felt only a twinge of pain. “Surprisingly well, my beauty."

 Her expression softened at his words.

 "All is well with you?” he asked.

 She stroked his chest, her fingers trailing along his muscles to his stomach. “Aye. Ream Grogan was responsible for all of this and he is in a much better place now."

 Richard opened his senses but felt no fear or remorse coming from her. “As are we. Together, we are a powerful pair,” he said, then took her lips again until neither of them could breathe.

 "Marry me, Richard. Make me yours. Today. Please."

 Richard hauled her hands over her head as he rolled her onto her back. “Yes, Megan. Today. In a little while.” He lifted his head and laughed. “Right now I have other plans for you.” He stopped talking and started to slide downward to occupy his mouth with a much juicier fare.

 "Truly? Today?” She rubbed her hand over his Raven tattoo. Richard smiled against her stomach. “Oh yes, my beauty, truly."

 Then Richard proceeded to show her what a truly powerful pair they had become.

 The End

 About the Author:

 Rae Monet is a new Author for LiquidSilverBooks.com, for which she writes paranormal, historical and contemporary erotic romance novels.

 Please check out Rae's website, www.RaeMonet.com and enjoy her world. Rae has been writing for a number of years and is an avid reader. Rae's First novel in the Wolf series, The Lost Wolf Warrior, was published recently by LSB.

  

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