He pushed his chair back, sitting in the flickering light of the fire. Dusk was falling, and long shadows crossed the room from the window, through which Megan could see the moon rising in the dark blue sky above the loch. She took up the bottle of ointment, kneeling at the laird’s side to apply it. He pulled up the skirt of his kilt, exposing his upper leg, and now Megan rubbed in the ointment, massaging it across his knee, to her surprise, he began to play with her hair.
