No doubt.An angel that magnificent deserved nothing short of a king.Maybe a saint.
Traffic moved around him as he stood in stunned admiration.
Her father had her in a close grip.Hew couldn’t blame him.If he owned such a treasure, he’d hold onto her tightly too.
She looked as pale and delicate as an apple blossom.Her forest green gown clung to her gentle curves.She walked with such grace, she seemed to glide through the hall.Her dark waist-length braid was draped coyly over one shoulder.
But what caught at his heart and stopped his breath was her brilliant smile.Welcoming, warm, and full of delight, it made everyone around her smile in return.Like a candle moving through the shadows, she lit up everything she touched.
Hew could feel his heart stirring, waking, coming to life.A rush of emotion surged through his veins, warming his blood.The familiar gush of pleasure filled his body, melting his bones.His eyes softened as he gazed at her with the sudden certainty that he was sincerely, deeply, helplessly in love.
Again.
This time, however, she was The One.He was sure of it.
She continued on while he stood there, dumbfounded.Perhaps it was best that her father steered her up the stairs, for if Hew had crossed paths with her at that moment, he might have done something foolish.Like fallen to his knees and begged for her hand on the spot.
He gave his head a sobering shake.
What the hell was wrong with him?Had he no bloody self-control?
He’d vowed he was not going to fall in love.Not again.And he meant it.He had no intention of subjecting his heart to damage again just because he’d seen a lass with a bonnie face.
He took a deep breath.Gathered his wits.
When the laird emerged from the stairwell again, he was alone.Thank God.
But before they could engage him, a pair of merchants called Dunlop aside.
As they drew near, the laird’s eyes widened at the sight of Hew’s axe.Hew lowered his weapon, planting it harmlessly between his feet.The laird resumed his conversation with the merchants, finally dismissing them to greet the prior.
“Prior,” the laird said, “I hear ye had a rough night at Kildunan.”
“Aye, we lost another man o’ faith,” the prior said, making the sign of the Cross, “God rest his soul.”
The laird glanced at Hew.“And who is this?”
“M’laird,” the prior intoned with a bow, “may I present Sir Hew o’ Rivenloch.He’s stayin’ at the—”
“Rivenloch,” the laird interrupted.“Ye’re a Rivenloch warrior?”
“Aye, m’laird,” Hew replied.
The laird reached out to clasp Hew’s hand in both of his.“’Tis an honor, sir.”Hew couldn’t help but remember those hands had just touched the sleeve of that beautiful angel.“Your reputation precedes ye.”
Hew belatedly realized that the prior probably shouldn’t have revealed his clan name.His presence at the monastery was supposed to be a secret.
Nonetheless, he gave the laird a polite nod.“The honor is mine, my laird.”
“Your pardon, m’laird,” the prior interjected, “can ye tell me where I might find the physician?”
“Peris?Ye’ll likely find him near the kitchens, tendin’ to John’s burns.”He shook his head.“I suppose all kitchen lads get a baptism o’ fire, aye?”He gave the prior a wink.
The prior didn’t see the humor.“Ah.”He held up the jar of honey he’d brought and said, “Shall I leave this with the cook then?”
“Is that Kildunan’s famous honey?”the laird said.“Pray do so.”
Then the prior turned to Hew.“I’ll fetch the physician for ye.”
