were bare. He wore only a tunic, having removed the traveling cloak from his shoulders. Megan’s heart skipped a beat. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen. Quite different from the other clansman, with a swaggering confidence, and the look of one unafraid of anything or anyone. She could not help but find him attractive, even as she knew such thoughts to be an impossibility. But it was the scars Megan’s eyes were drawn to. Every bare patch of skin was covered in battle scars as though Killian’s whole life had been one long fight, the evidence of which was plain to see.
