Amanda Scott (43 page)

Shrugging it off, Hector had moved to deal with the door as the lad hung the cloak on a peg in the wall, when they heard a great crack of thunder followed by screams from above. The gillie reacted quickly, leaping up the twisting stairway with Hector behind him. But at the door, the lad paused, apparently stunned by the smoke billowing past him. The shrieking continued.

Hector shoved the lad aside, took in the smoky scene at a glance, and strode toward the screams, scarcely noting the few obstacles he swept from his path.

As he expected, he found a lass amidst the still-billowing smoke, trying ineffectively and without missing a screech to beat out flames that had ignited her long overskirt. Although barely licking one side, they shot upward on the other, threatening her arms and face if not her life. With smoke blinding him to any nearby bucket or jug, he grabbed the fabric below her hips, ripped it free, and flung it into the fireplace.

When she continued to shriek, he caught her by the shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Stop that screeching,” he commanded. “Tell me if you’re burnt.”

Instead, she burst into tears and collapsed in his arms.

Startled, he held her as he snapped, “Someone get over here, shift these logs, and stir up the fire. ’Tis the only way I know to clear out this smoke.”

A calm female voice nearby said, “Tam, pray attend to that, and add another log whilst you are about it. Mariota, stop that noise now and tell us if you are hurt.”

The head buried against his chest shifted, and a tearful voice said fretfully, “I don’t think so, but how horrid! The wind just turned into a demon, Cristina, breathing fire all over me!”

“Don’t talk drivel,” Hector said sternly. “You should certainly know better than to . . . to . . .”

She looked up at him, and whatever he had been about to say died in his throat as he stared into the face so close to his own, revealed now in all its splendid glory as the smoke began at last to clear.

She was stunningly beautiful with eyes as clear a green as new spring grass, and hair like the spun gold one heard about in seanachies’ tales. Her figure, as his hands could attest, was slim and pliable, her still heaving breasts soft and plump, her waist so tiny he was sure his two hands could span it, her voluptuous hips flaring below. Her lips were so soft looking and full that had he not been burdened with years of training he’d have tasted them immediately. Never in his life had he seen such a beauty, and that despite his own vast experience with the gender and the fact that his brother had married a woman touted by all as the most beautiful in the Isles. Lady Mairi was glorious, to be sure, but no man of sense would say she could hold a candle to the beauty he held now in his arms.

“You can let her go now, sir,” said the same matter-of-fact voice he had heard moments before.

Startled, he turned his head and found the source of that voice standing right beside him. Noting her plain russet gown and the simple linen caul that hid her hair, he nearly decided that she must be the beauty’s maidservant or companion before he recalled the way she had commanded the lass to calm herself, and opted instead for poor relation or paid companion.

The amusement in her eyes was another matter. She was looking at him as if she knew him, too, but he was nearly certain that he had never seen her before. With a polite nod, he looked again at the delectable morsel he still held, decided that she did indeed seem steady enough to stand on her own, and released her.

The matter-of-fact voice went on, “You were quite right to scold her, sir. I had warned her only moments before that she was standing too near the flames.”

“Indeed, she did,” the beauty said with a tremulous smile that nearly bowled him over with its brilliance. “But I was so cold, you see, and I never expected the fire to attack me. I cannot think how it came to do such a thing.”

“I wager ’twas the lad opening the door below to let me in,” Hector said. “It blew out of his grasp, and doubtless with the wind as it is, it created a huge draft and pulled smoke and flames into this room.” Much more gently than before, he added, “You must take greater care in future not to stand so near, mistress.”

“By heaven’s grace, sir,” she said, wide-eyed, as she clasped her slender little hands beneath her round little chin, “how very wise you are!”

Cristina knew Hector Reaganach, for she had seen him and his brother, Lachlan Lubanach, at the Court of the Isles on three separate occasions when her father had taken her to Ardtornish, seat of MacDonald, Lord of the Isles, to take part in his grand annual Easter hunt and the splendid feast that always followed.

Macleod had hoped that Cristina would attract the attention of some suitable nobleman’s son, so he could marry her off at last. Her next youngest sisters, Mariota and Adela, had mixed feelings about her lack of success, she knew. Both were eager to marry, and both knew that because of his superstitious nature, Macleod would not permit them to do so until Cristina had. Mariota wanted her to marry but did not want to assume her responsibilities, and Adela knew perfectly well who would have to shoulder them. Adela knew, too, for all of them did, that once Cristina was married, Mariota would quickly follow. All of the Macleod sisters were fair and graceful, but Mariota’s beauty stopped men in their tracks.

She had certainly stunned Hector Reaganach, Cristina thought now with amusement as she watched them.

Hector Reaganach had attracted her the first time she laid eyes on him, because his laughter was infectious, his stories and songs amusing, and as big, strong, and handsome as he was, he looked like a man who could easily take care of himself and anyone else he chose to look after.

Feeling deep relief and gratitude that his quick action had saved Mariota, she said quietly, “Thank you, sir,” before adding, “Mariota, love, do you not think that perhaps you should put on a fresh skirt?”

“Indeed I should,” Mariota exclaimed. “I hope you are not scandalized by seeing my underskirt, sir, but if you are, you have only yourself to blame.”

“Mariota,” Cristina said gently, “Lord Hector has done you a signal service, love. You should thank him prettily, then go and put on a fresh skirt.”

“But it
is
his fault,” her sister protested, looking impishly up into his eyes. “He ripped my best skirt right off me!”

Hector Reaganach chuckled and shook his head at her.

His eyes were the deepest, bluest blue that Cristina had ever seen. Even now, in the smoky, flickering light from the hall’s torches, cressets, candles, and fireplace, she could see how blue they were. But Mariota did not care about the color of his eyes. The saucy girl was still laughing—nay, flirting outrageously—with him, and the wretched man did not seem to mind a bit.

THE EDITOR’S DIARY

Dear Reader,

Some loves are meant to be: Romeo and Juliet, Bogie and Bacall, Beauty and the Beast. But there are always little hiccups along the way to the most destined of love affairs. Just watch what happens in the two Warner Forever titles this November.

Romantic Times
calls
Amanda Scott
a “most gifted storyteller” and
Rendezvous
raves her “characters jump off the page into your heart.” Well, all ye lads and lassies, prepare to be dazzled by the first in a new pair of novels,
HIGHLAND PRINCESS
. Lady Mairi, the stunning daughter of the Lord of the Isles, has never had a man come close to claiming her heart—especially the prince she is expected to wed—until she meets Lachlan “The Wily” MacLean. The latest addition to her father’s court and a skilled warrior with a vast network of spies, he knows every secret, and soon, Mairi becomes his heart’s desire. Though she scorns him, everyone can see the desire in her eyes and hear the hunger in her voice. But as their passion draws them closer together, it also inflames the jealousy of an enemy determined to claim the kingdom—and Mairi—for his very own.

Journeying from the lush hills and the intrigue of medieval Scotland to the masterful guises and disguises of Regency England, we present
THE IMPROPER WIFE
, a heart-wrenching and haunting new novel by
Diane Perkins
. Maggie Delaney can’t believe her misfortune. Swept off her feet and hastily married, she’s horrified to learn the husband she thought she knew has lied about his identity, leaving her stranded, penniless, and with an infant son. But she has found the man who can rightly claim her husband’s false name and with him, hope for survival. For the real Captain John Grayson is a soldier, a hero with an honorable reputation and limitless coffers who would never turn a woman and her infant away. Her plan: to become his “wife” in truth. After all, his family has fallen in love with her and her son and is eager to embrace them both. But can she convince Gray that she is his wife, both in name and deed alike?

To find out more about Warner Forever, these November titles, and the author, visit us at www.warnerforever.com.

With warmest wishes,

Karen Kosztolnyik, Senior Editor

P.S. The holidays are right around the corner so throw another yule log on the fire, grab some eggnog, and relax with these two books:
Mary McBride
pens a lighthearted story of two childhood sweethearts whose relationship ended in disaster, the strange thefts that bring them together and the undeniable sparks that still fly in
SAY IT AGAIN, SAM
; and
Marliss Melton
delivers a thrilling new romantic suspense about a woman grieving for her Navy SEAL husband who has been presumed dead . . . only to discover he’s alive with absolutely no memory of their life together in
FORGET ME NOT
.