Page 33 of Moon Craving

warned her with his eyes how close to death she had come by mistreating the woman that

was his.

The fact that he had not wanted an English bride made no difference. The kings

had dictated that Abigail was to be his, and no one dared to mistreat a Sinclair. He was

still tempted to kill Lady Hamilton, despite his bride's pleas to the contrary. His wolf

clamored for retribution, if not death.

Eventually, the English lady began to squirm under his hostile regard.

Good. She had no place in Abigail's life and he meant her to know it.

Niall cleared his throat, but Talorc did not need the prompting. He had picked up

Abigail's scent the moment she entered the chapel. Fragrant herbs, known to heal, mixed

with her own unique perfume, created a heady fragrance that called to his beast. It was all

Talorc could do not to turn to watch his bride walk up the aisle.

It would not do to show such interest though. The English baron might take it as a

courtesy. Not that his wolf seemed to care that Abigail herself was English. The beast

never took notice of women, but he certainly noticed Abigail.

And wanted her.

With a ferocity that forced Talorc to keep strict control of the semi-stiff member

under his kilt.

The wolf fought to get out and make itself known to the woman about to marry the

man. Talorc had to concentrate harder than he ever had on keeping his wolf inside while

he waited for Abigail to make her silent trek up the aisle on the arm of the baron.

Finally, he turned, if only to appease the wolf.

Abigail was not smiling, but she did not hesitate in her slow procession toward him.

She looked scared but determined, and he respected that.

It was easy to face battle without fear; much harder to face it with uncertainty of the

outcome. Eyes the color of rich earth reflected fear but not terror. That was something. He

should not care, but he did not like the idea that marriage to him would terrify her. It was

natural for her to be somewhat worried about her future.

She was leaving England for the Highlands. Her life would never be the same.

Nor would his, a low voice inside him insisted. One that sounded suspiciously like