Sandra Harris's Blog, page 4

Friday Chuckles

This is laugh out loud funny.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sandy

 

Thursday Threads

This week I’m pleased to feature my Critique Partner, C.T. Green and her second volume of sizzling paranormal short stories, The S.E.R.A. Files Volume II.

#1 SATISFYING SIMON

Will satisfaction be guaranteed?

For Serena Roberts, getting to know her new SERA partner is an uphill task. Simon’s distant and ‘by the book’ demeanor is at odds with his playboy past. Serena believes she’ll never find out the real story behind the torture Simon endured at the hands of a demon nor discover a way past the Fae warrior’s ice-cold reserve.

Simon doesn’t mind his reputation for being hard to please, but when he meets Serena he finds there is something he cares about more than keeping his distance from others. As they hunt for a kidnapper can he trust Serena enough to leave them both satisfied?

 

#2 PROTECTING PENELOPE

Angels and demons don’t mix. Prepare for an apocalypse.

Adar works as a special operative for SERA. He’s a demon who loves the thrill of close calls and blood-pounding action. But no way in hell is he ready to do protection detail for an angel. After all, everyone knows those guys are short tempered and deadly.

Penelope, a messenger angel, is minding her own business when she witnesses a crime. Now she’s under the care of a big, strong SERA agent and she’s determined to go for his heart. When the bad guys catch up with them and Adar is forced to unleash his inner demon, will the angel he’s fallen in love with still want him?

 

#3 CATCHING FLAME

A fire prince always knows how to light a girl’s fire.

Saskia “Sass” Boots has been watching Flame, and he’s every bit as absorbing as his namesake. But as an agent with SERA, she’s determined to keep her mind on the job and off the fire prince’s smokin’ hot body. A pyromaniac’s on the loose and Flame is SERA’s top suspect.

When Sass announces she’s moving in with him, Flame knows it’s going to be hard to resist the girl of his dreams while chasing a murderer. There’s no way Flame is going to let some creep kill innocent people, but when things become heated, the scorching chemistry between him and Sass might prove a fatal distraction.

 

#4 TOUCHING TORREN

SERA Agent. Werewolf. Guard Dog. No one said anything about ‘walkies’.

After Sophy Bancroft is blinded by a spell, Torren is determined to protect the human from a killer still at large. But for a werewolf, playing at being a guard dog is tough work. He hates deceiving the woman he’s fallen in love with, but until Sophy’s sight returns there’s no other way to ensure her safety.

Sophy’s delighted to regain her vision. When she discovers her beloved canine companion is a seriously gorgeous werewolf will she be able to trust him not to shed on the furniture, and more importantly, save her from the creature determined to end her life?

 

#5 AFTER OBLIVION

Not even Hell itself is going to keep these lovers apart.

Mia Haviland and Avenian of the Fae mourned the loss of Oblivion, the demon prince who bound the three of them together. Now their lover is back and determined to re-take his place in Mia and Aven’s life.

Oblivion endured two years in Hell, imprisoned and tortured by a sadistic killer who escaped SERA’s justice. Now he wants his beloved Fairy and Fae back by his side and his captor’s head on a platter. Can he destroy his nemesis and convince Aven and Mia that neither Hell nor high water will ever keep him from them again?

 

 

Contact C.T. @:

http://www.ctgreen-author.com

https://www.facebook.com/C.T.GreenAuthor?ref=stream

https://twitter.com/CTGreenAuthor

Thursday Threads

Late gain. Ah well, it’s Thursday somewhere in the world!

S.C. Mitchell offers Son of Thunder, a sizzling paranormal romance and first book in the Heavenly War Series, a combination of fantasy, mythology and romantic adventure.

The son of Thor has a lot to live up to, and no time for love.

The Heavenly War begins!

A prophecy centering on a mortal woman, makes her the focus of events that could lead to Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Norse Gods and the end of the world.

Know this. The Son of Thunder and this daughter of Midgaard will venture to the lands of Svartalheim and Jotunheim, to the very bowels of Utgard Keep. The power of the three artifacts will be reunited and the old ways will pass. A secret from the past is the key to the future, but a life must be freely given if the Golden City is to be saved.

From the icy wastelands of Svartalheim, land of the dark elves, to the towering peaks of Jotunheim, home of the frost giants, and right to the golden gates of Asgaard, the saga begins as war ravages the heavens.

 

Blurb:

The man looked like a god. Then again, he was one. . .

Jord Thorson was a god– the son of Thor, the Norse God of Thunder. In his search to find his missing father, Jord seeks out the mortal, Meghan Larson, who is in possession of his only clue–Megingjörð, Thor’s magical belt of power.

But when the belt decides to take matters into its own hands, locking itself around Meghan’s waist, Jord and Meghan are plunged into the middle of a massive conflict that rages across the heavens.

Giants, magical artifacts, and a golden city in the clouds weren’t exactly what Meghan Larson expected when that amazing belt arrived at her museum. Now Megingjörð is stuck around her waist and talking to her in her head. She’s got to be dreaming, but with the wonders around her and hunky Jord Thorson at her side, Meghan’s not sure she wants to wake up.

 

Son of Thunder is available at Amazon.

S. C. Mitchell is also the author of Swiftly Beats the Heart, There’s no such thing as Werewolves, The Forsaken Templar, and Seeds of Immortality.

Find him at:

Blog: http://scmitchell.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSCMitchell

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorSMitchell

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B007D0Z1MW

Update on Second Book in the “Alien, Mine” Series.

Hooray! Just passed 21K in the word count.

Kat and T’Hargen have managed to get themselves into hot water and, being the upstanding rapscallions that they are, fully intend to wreak havoc and despair amongst their enemy, the Bluthen.

Sandy

Thursday Threads

Cerian Hebert brings us this week’s Thursday Threads with her steamy contemporary romance, Going Going Gone.

Blurb:

When Nell Moreno returns to her small hometown after a lengthy absence, she’s not too surprised no one recognizes her, she’s certainly not the overweight teenager she used to be. While hiding her true identity, Nell “wins” hunky fireman, Elijah Knight, at a charity auction and she’s determined to give the one-time bully a little payback for the misery he caused her when they were teens. However, over the next few weeks she discovers he’s changed a lot too and as they fall in love, Nell is left with the dilemma of how to admit she’s lied to him about who she really is.

Excerpt:

“That was a pretty generous bid you made,” Eli said.

His gaze stayed locked with hers, a trait she approved of. Most of the men in her acquaintance tended to have wandering eyes. It was difficult to have an intelligent conversation with a man who was more interested in her cup size.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I have plans for you. I’ll get my money’s worth.”

Eli chuckled and shifted his feet. “What kind of plans? One thousand dollars is a lot of dinners.”

With a shake of her head, Nell smirked. “Actually, that’s not what I had in mind. You look like a strong guy and a good worker.” She reached out and touched the tip of her finger to his bicep. Just as she thought, hard muscles rippled beneath the dark blue fabric of his dress shirt. Flirting with him was good. She’d probably get more out of him if she came on to him.

Nell brushed away the wicked little thought and contained the smile pulling at her lips. “The truth of the matter is, Gwen needs help with her mom’s house before it can go on the market. You look like you’re good with a hammer and paintbrush.”

“That’s it?” Eli looked down at her fingers, which traced a fold in the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t want a home cooked meal?” He sounded rather relieved. “You know what kind of auction this is, don’t you?”

“Honey, I’m not looking for a date.” Nell dragged her gaze up and down his body.

“Though if I were, I’d definitely consider you. But I don’t plan on being in town too long.”

“My loss.”

The way his dark eyes seemed to meld with hers heated her whole body up. He was good-looking, but she wasn’t prepared for the extent of the attraction she felt. Everyone else in the crowded gym faded away into an inconsequential, gray fog.

Get back in the driver’s seat, Nell, she thought.

Available from Amazon.

 

Where to find Cerian:

 

www.cerianhebert.com

https://www.facebook.com/Ceriansbooks

https://twitter.com/CerianHebert

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Thursday Threads

For this week’s Thursday Thread we have RB Austin presenting her sizzling paranormal romance, Fallen Redemption. 

Fallen Redemption will be on sale for only $0.99 at Amazon until 27th July.

Blurb:

Cade committed himself to saving lives before he learned the full consequences of his life-altering decision. It wasn’t until he was tending his sick wife that he learned the enormity of what he’d done and he was unable to save her from the monster he had become. Consumed with guilt and praying for absolution, he threw himself into killing every Fallen he could find to save the humans he’d sworn to protect. But then Emma, deliciously mortal and completely forbidden, swept into his world, stirring an overpowering desire. Now he’s not only fighting soulless creatures, but also his inner cravings, trying to maintain his distance and continue on his path to forgiveness. He won’t lose control again and lose another love.

 

Excerpt:

The cut was small and not deep, it would stop bleeding in a matter of minutes.

Blood seeped from the wound. It trickled down Sarah’s wrist and pooled in her upturned hand.

He froze.

Changes overcame his body. Uncontrollable. Unknown.

Breath quickened. Heart pounded as loud as a horse’s gallop. Sarah hadn’t awakened. The pain from her cut was insubstantial compared to the pain of her sickness.

The thick, crimson liquid flowing from the wound was anything but insubstantial to Caderyn. Still unable to move, his eyes hadn’t wavered from the blood. The tray left his hands and clattered to the ground. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, bringing himself an inch from the cut. The scent of blood filled his nostrils. Consumed all thought. Sight. He wanted to close his eyes and savor the reverent aroma filling his senses. Something awakened inside of him.

He was hungry, yet didn’t want food. Thirsty, but didn’t want to reach for a cup of water. Another drop of blood welled from the cut. A growl tore from his throat.

It was the switch and it had been thrown.

One moment he was himself. The monster inside separate. Next the wall between the two vanished. He was the Behnshma. His humanity gone. Another growl. It echoed around the house. Filled his ears.

He was ravenous. The fact he hadn’t eaten in a little over a week ached his empty belly and burned his dry, parched throat. There were two pricks of pain in his top gum. Finger in his mouth, he found two long, sharp as knives, teeth. Like Elias. Like the wolves in the forest when they tore into a deer carcass. Their muzzles bloody, meat dangling from their mouths. Blood.

He knew what he wanted to do, what his body demanded he do. Caderyn licked his lips and his tongue nicked an elongated tooth. His own blood melted decadently over his tongue. A flood of senses erupted. Never had he tasted anything this wonderful. His mouth zinged with flavor. The blood coated his throat. He’d been dying of thirst his whole life but hadn’t known it. Warmth spread through his body.

His hands shook as he brought them to Sarah’s arm. Grasping her wrist and forearm he leaned toward the blood. Inch by inch. He was a magnet and her arm was the polar opposite.

Her inaudible yelp of fright permeated through the rushing noise in his ears. He tore his eyes away and met her wide-eyed startled ones.

Fear was an acrid, burning stench in his nostrils. Her thoughts a chaotic jumble weaving through his mind. She tried to move her lethargic limbs. Tried to escape. To break free.

He flexed his hands, squeezing her arm as his gaze trailed from the vein in her neck to the one in her wrist right below the cut. The blood slowed and the edges of the wound begun to dry. The tangy, copper scent of the fresh liquid underneath her skin reached his nose. Caderyn listened to it pass through her veins. Faster and faster.

Ignoring his wife’s futile attempts to escape, he leaned closer and inhaled. A growl erupted from his throat. He bent. Licked the wound. Groaned. His cock hardened.

Sarah, panicked now, tried to yank her arm free. It was the most she’d moved in days. Growling, like a dog with his bone, he held down her upper arm and her squirming hand. Pushed it back until her forearm bowed, and the cut extended to him like a present.

Caderyn. Please. I beg you.

He was hurting her arm. Scaring her. She was begging.

Flicking his tongue over her wrist, he caught another drop of the thick liquid gold. Then another and another. It wasn’t enough. He bared his teeth, striking fast to sink them deep into her wrist. She gave a weak jerk. Caderyn drew her blood into his mouth with long pulls. His cock jerked and warmth spread inside his breeches. There was no stopping. Her struggles to escape were an annoying insect buzzing around the room. The pleas to stop were shouts in his head. Both were easy to ignore. Sarah ceased to struggle.

He was killing her.

He couldn’t stop.

And didn’t stop until she was dead.

 

 

Media Links:

Website: RB Austin

Facebook: https://facebook.com/rbaustinauthor

Twitter: RB Austin (authorrbaustin) Twitter

 

Thursday Threads

This week Tina Susedik offers us a look into her sensual, romantic mystery, Riding for Love.

Blurb:

Eve Dayton, owner of a riding ranch, rose above her childhood past and overcame the emotional damage her boyfriend caused when he married another woman. When someone starts sabotaging her ranch, Eve is desperate to find the culprit before she loses everything. Is it a coincidence or is the return of Denton Johanson tied to the mystery?

Divorced Denton Johanson returns to his hometown to help convict the embezzling controller of the family business. When he runs into Eve, he realizes his feelings for her are still strong enough to try and win her back. His fear of horses won’t get in the way of his goal and decides the only way to be near her is to take riding lessons from her. Can he convince her that his love is real and he is not behind the mystery surrounding the ranch?

Excerpt:

“Darn. I’m late.” Eve grabbed her mug of coffee and the clipboard with her notes for the day. “I’m never late. Ever. This is what happens when you let a man get under your skin.” She jogged across the driveway to the barn. The clients weren’t due for another half an hour, but she wanted to meet with Tom early to go over her notes once more to make sure the horses matched the riders.

Her steps slowed as she entered the barn. Tom was talking to one of the employees at the other end of the barn. Since he didn’t immediately notice her, she took her time walking through the building, making sure the tack was all in place according to horse, helmets and riding sticks hung in order of size, horses back in their stalls from the field, and no stray horse droppings or straw littered the barn floor.

As she passed the row of licenses showing their employees were qualified as riding instructors, and she and Tom owners, he turned and waved her over.

“So how did your evening go last night, sweetheart? You danced quite a bit with Denton.”

“Yeah.” She batted her eyes at her friend. “You didn’t have anything to do with it would you, honeybunch?”

Tom laughed, threw an arm around her shoulders, and gave her a hug. “Ah, busted.” He kissed her forehead. “He’s not so bad, you know, Eve. He’s made some mistakes, and I believe he sincerely regrets them. But if he does anything to hurt you again, he’ll find himself lying in a pile of manure, face first.”

Eve grimaced at the image. “Well, I hate to say you’re right, but I did have a good time. I forgot how easy it is to talk to him. Besides, he can’t hurt me if I don’t let him.” She slid the clipboard from under her arm and started flipping through pages. “That doesn’t mean I’m still not mad at him. It’s going to take more than a few dances to get me into his good graces.”

“Give him a run for his money?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, glancing at her watch. “Now, let’s compare notes before our subjects arrive.”

For the next few minutes they walked companionably through the barn looking at stock, comparing horse sizes, and temperaments to clients. The stable of twenty-five horses ranged from duns to piebalds to grays and Appaloosas and included a few ponies for younger riders. Eve loved them all.

“I’ll take the slowest, laziest one with the shortest legs,” Denton said, interrupting Eve and Tom’s decision to pasture a smaller horse needing to be re-shod.

Eve nearly dropped the clipboard at the sound of Denton’s deep voice as she locked the stall door and tacked a note to the front for her staff. Keeping her back to him, she didn’t hide a smile at his nervous tone. By the time she faced him, the smile disappeared, but not the heat that had risen to her face.

“Mornin’, Dent,” Tom said, stepping over to the next stall. “I think old Della here will do fine for you.” He ran a hand down the bay’s forelock, over the blaze markings to her nose and slipped a sugar cube into her mouth. “Eve’s helped so many people learn to ride she’d teach me a few things, and I taught her to ride.”

Denton let out a breath of air and took a few steps closer to the stall. “Good to know.”

“Don’t be misled, Dent,” Eve said, following Tom’s hands down the horse’s face. “Della may be getting on in years, but she’s a horse and horses can pull a few tricks on the unwary.” Denton’s Adam’s apple slipped up and down as he swallowed a gulp. She pressed the clipboard to her chest. “Don’t worry, since I’ll be training you, I won’t let anything happen.”

“To me or the horse?” he asked.

“Good question,” Eve answered over her shoulder as she sauntered away from the men.

***

Denton raked his fingers through his hair and suppressed a shudder.

“Scared you, didn’t she?”

“And you’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry, boy. She’s never let a customer get hurt. Yet.”

Denton breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t get hurt, not physically, anyway, he thought. His emotions were another matter. His heart tripped a little faster as he watched her walk through the barn.

The rest of the group began entering the building. Amazing how, in such a short time, a person learned to recognize someone, even by their black silhouette against the bright sun-lit entrance to the barn. The unmistakable buxom figure of Jackie was outlined in the door.

His breath left him and he quickly searched for a place to hide. After her seduction attempts at the dance, she was the last person he wanted to encounter. He still felt her body pressed against his, his arm muscles even a little sore from trying to stop her from performing the vertical bedroom tango publicly. The next woman to use his body in any way would be Eve, whether she knew it or not.

So desperate to be out of Jackie’s sight, he contemplated leaping over the gate into his horse’s stall and hiding behind her rump, then grabbing a shovel to start mucking out manure or take a hoof pick and clean out her hoofs. Before he could consider the wisdom of doing any of those things, Jackie spotted him.

He groaned. Everyone gathering at the end of the barn turned as she shrilled out his name. He moved toward her. If he moved fast enough, he’d get to the others and mingle, be able to hide among his compatriots, then shove her off on some other, more willing, male in the group.

 

Available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Find Tina at:

http://tinasusedik.wordpress.com./

Twitter: @tinasusedik

Website: TinaSusedik.com

Facebook: Tina Susedik, Author

Soul Mate Publishing: http://www.soulmatepublishing.com/rid...

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...

Thursday Threads

Thursday Threads with . . .  Wareeze Woodson and her suspenseful regency romance, An Enduring Love.

Blurb:

Born and raised in Latvia, Rebecca Balodis marries Rhys Sudduth, an English diplomat. Shortly thereafter, he is summoned home to attend his father’s death-bed. Rebecca cannot accompany him at the time and becomes trapped in the turmoil plaguing her country. He is informed she died in the upheaval.

Nearly four years later, she escapes and arrives in London with their son in tow. Arriving in the middle of his sister’s ball is very awkward, especially since Rhys plans to announce his betrothal to a young debutante later in the evening.

Trouble, tangled in suspense and danger, follow her from Latvia. Can this pair ever find or even recognize an enduring love? Is it worth keeping?

Letters discovered in the belongings of the villain. These letters are not revealed in the book but are held in my heart and give insight to the story. A tidbit solely for you. Enjoy.

Wareeze Woodson

 

The Year of Our Lord 1813

My Dearest Husband,

I write with my heart filled with sorrow. My beloved mother has passed on to join my father in Heaven. I can only be happy for her although sadness weighs me down. I am now acquainted with deep sadness and how you must mourn for your father. Grief makes it hard to write, but you deserve to know why I am delayed in departing this land.

 At the moment, I am trapped in Latvia due to the up-rising in my country. I do not know how long it may be before I am allowed to travel to England to join you. There is a guard placed outside my gate to prevent my departure at present, but I will travel to Rica at the first opportunity and board a ship to London. Perhaps all will settle quickly. I can only pray it shall be so.

I cannot wait to be in your arms again, to kiss your dear face and gaze into your eyes once more. With words, you painted a lovely picture of your home in England and of your relatives. The thought of meeting your family holds much pleasure for me, especially since I am now alone.

Take care, My Love. I shall write to let you know as the hour of my departure grows closer. Keep safe and know you have my enduring love.

Yours Always,

Rebecca Sudduth

 

Purchase from Amazon

Thursday Threads

This week’s Threader is Rachel Sharpe with her sweet mystery/suspense, Cold Ambition.

Blurb:

 “It was my life-long dream to become a private eye. Little did I know that with my very first case, that dream would become a life-threatening nightmare…”

 When Jordan James decided to embark on a career as a private investigator, she never could have imagined that a chance encounter would lead to her staring down the barrel of a gun on the roof’s edge of a high-rise building. As she begins to investigate her first case, the puzzling murder of a prominent businessman that has left Boston’s finest mystified for more than two decades, she finds herself suddenly immersed in a treacherous underworld brimming with betrayal, raw greed, and political subterfuge of international proportions. In the midst of this, she discovers she is falling for her mysterious client despite the hints of his dark past. Can this feisty Southern girl with a penchant for trouble solve this baffling case or is she doomed to become another tragic chapter in an international conspiracy?

Excerpt:

 We sat there in silence and heard Ace stumble towards the door and fumble with the lock.

“Yeah?”

“Is Jordan James here?” a muffled voice inquired. I strained to hear, but the distance between the rooms and the closed door made it nearly impossible.

“Who?” Ace laughed. Suddenly, there was a strange sound. It sounded like a firecracker had gone off. This sound was followed by a loud thud which echoed through the apartment. In an instant, Rick and I were on our feet. Rick turned off the light and grabbed the tape from the VCR. I searched the room vainly for a place to hide. Outside the room, I heard shoes echoing on the floor and the sound of doors being opened. Before I had another moment to think, Rick grabbed me and practically carried me to the far corner of the room by the soundboard. Next to the soundboard was a thin wall covered in soundproof foam. Three of the walls had this soundproof foam but the wall contiguous with the door did not. It appeared Ace was still installing it. He pulled it back to reveal a small closet- sized room.

He brought me inside and replaced the wall, closing us in. We huddled together in the corner. Looking around I realized that this was the room in which Ace occasionally recorded. Suddenly, faintly, I heard the door to the media room open. I heard footsteps making their way around the room. After what seemed like an eternity, the intruder spoke.

“She’s not here,” the muffled voice stated. “Yes, she came into the building with Michaels’ kid. No, they can’t be far. Don’t worry. We know where their car is parked.

If not before, we’ll get them when they go back for it.”

Buy link

www.rachelsharpe.com

www.facebook.com/authorrachelsharpe

www.twitter.com/RachelCSharpe

Thursday Threads

 

Meggan Connors offers her sensual, historical romance, Highland Deception, this week on Thursday Threads.

Blurb:

When Kenneth Mackay, long-banished rogue and thief, returns to the Mackay holding at the request of his brother, he has no idea what he might find. He certainly doesn’t expect to be confronted with his twin’s imminent death, or with the plan his brother has concocted.

Ten years before, Malcolm made a tragic mistake, and, to preserve the family name—and his own skin—he allowed Kenneth to take the fall. Now that he is dying without an heir, Malcolm plans to atone for his mistake: by giving Kenneth his life back. All Kenneth has to do is assume his brother’s identity. But complicating matters is the unexpected return of Lady Isobel Mackay, the daughter of an English marquess and the wife Malcolm didn’t want.

Isobel barely knows the husband who abandoned her even before their marriage, and she’d long since given up hope on having a real marriage with him. Yet when she returns to the Mackay holding far earlier than expected, she finds her husband a changed man. Despite the hurt between them, Isobel’s heart responds to this man who cares for his entire clan as if there were family. Who, for the first time, cares about her as if she is, too.

Falling in love with her husband had never been part of Isobel’s plan. But when their future is suddenly in peril, Isobel must find a way to save him—from himself and from the deception threatening to tear them apart.

Excerpt

She ignored Grant’s angry protests behind her and ran for her husband’s bedchamber. Slamming open the door, she stumbled inside.

Malcolm lay in the great bed. Alone.

Alone. She tried not to speculate about what meant.

His breathing was shallow, as if he’d been running. As the door bounced back and closed, his sky-bright eyes shot up and met hers.

No, not sky-bright. Darker, the color of the forget-me-nots that bloomed in the gardens in spring. The color of the night sky as it lightened with the first rays of dawn.

“Milord.” She gasped for breath.

Malcolm had never looked at her like he did now. This time, when he studied her, it was as if he didn’t dislike what he saw.

Being honest with herself, Malcolm had never disliked her. After all, the term dislike implied a depth of feeling he almost certainly lacked.

“Wife.”

Isobel flinched.

Grant was suddenly at her back. “Sir, I apologize. She’s faster than you’d think.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, as if to steer her from the room.

She shook him off.

“Indeed.” Malcolm smiled, and a charming dent in his cheek appeared.

How had she not noticed that before?

“We will leave at once.” Grant took her by the arm.

She wrenched out of his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I have my audience.” She glanced around the room and saw no sign of Malcolm’s mistress.

“Lady Mackay,” Grant began.

Malcolm held up his hand. “‘Tis fine, Grant. I can always make time for my lady wife.”

Isobel barked a hollow laugh, alleviating the ache, just a little.

“Are you certain?” Grant’s eyes shifted from Isobel to Malcolm and back again. A wrinkle formed between his brows, and the muscle in his cheek worked as he ground his teeth together.

He’d only ever done that when he was agitated or anxious.

But there was no reason for that, as Malcolm had never truly cared enough to keep secrets from her in an attempt to spare her feelings. Nor had he ever forced others to do the same.

Malcolm’s eyes met Grant’s, and something passed between the two men. Her husband gave Grant a clipped nod. “If you’ll excuse us, Grant.”

Grant released his breath slowly. His eyes narrowed first at Malcolm, then at Isobel. Scowling, he bowed his head. “Mackay,” he said stiffly. He turned to Isobel. “Lady Mackay.”

Isobel watched him go then waited until the door had closed behind him. “So, where is she?”

Malcolm arched a dark brow. “Where is who?”

“You know. Her.”

He lifted a single shoulder, as if she didn’t have a right to know. “I doona ken.”

The silence that fell between them was deafening, damning.

Finally he said, “Your arrival was unexpected.”

She breathed a mirthless laugh. “I have no doubt.” She expected him to look ashamed, but his expression didn’t hold even the slightest hint of remorse. She swallowed against the betrayal rising in the back of her throat and tried again. “Why are you abed?”

“I’ve been ailing. Naught to fash yourself over.”

She approached his great bed tentatively. “Ailing how? Has your cough worsened?”

He glanced down at his coverlet and then brought his gaze back to her face. “For a time, aye. I believe I’m on the mend now.”

Isobel pressed her hand to his forehead, then his cheek. His skin felt cool beneath her palm, if a little damp.

His breath hitched, then he cleared his throat. “Satisfied? As you can see, I am on the mend.”

“Perhaps,” she whispered. She ran her hand around to the back of his neck, then descended to his back.

He wore a thin linen shirt, unsuitable for the cool nights of the Highlands in late fall. She placed her hands between his shoulder blades. He was thinner than she remembered, but there was no mistaking Malcolm’s unique strength.

“Breathe,” she said, and then reminded herself to do the same.

“I hardly think—”

“If you want me to leave you be, you will appease my curiosity. Breathe.”

Malcolm tilted his head up and studied her.

She fought the desire to look at him for as long as she could before meeting his gaze. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

Curiosity.

“Breathe, milord.” Heat spread up her neck to her face, and, to keep her free hand from shaking, she clenched a fist. The warmth of his body seeped through his nightshirt, scalding her hand not with fever but with something else.

The corners of his lips tilted upward before he smoothed his features. He paused for a moment too long, then held her gaze as he took an extended, deliberate breath.

She shoved the raging emotions aside and forced herself to view him as a person who needed her help.

She felt no hint of the cough that had been nagging him before she’d left.

Swallowing hard, she slid her hand between the linen and his skin, against his chest.

His heart rate kicked up.

“Breathe.” She struggled to force the word out.

I feel nothing. Nothing. He needs my help.

She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands, the steady beating of his heart. His skin scorched hers.

Her mouth dried, her tongue thick and heavy. She removed her hand. “You seem to have mended nicely.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strangled.

His gaze searched her face. “Aye.”

Isobel cradled her hand against her chest and stepped back from the bed, nearly tripping over her own feet. “I will leave you now, sir.”

Malcolm gave her a clipped nod. “Very well, my lady wife.”

“I—I will be in my chambers should you require me.”

He didn’t laugh, as he normally would have. “Then I shall find you there if I do. Or I will send for you.”

She backed up a few paces, bumped into a trunk, and immediately turned her attention to her skirt, trying to smooth wrinkles undoubtedly permanent from long days of travel. It was better than looking at Malcolm.

“By your leave.” Her eyes locked on the floor as she dipped into a hasty curtsy and fled.

The moment the door closed behind her, she put her back against the cold, stone wall, cradling the hand that had touched him as if she had injured it.

She’d touched his skin, felt the heat of his body, and the responding heat of hers.

He hadn’t forced her hands away. He hadn’t mocked her.

Instead, for the first time since their marriage, he’d called her wife.

 

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