The Taming of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland, #2)

by Elisa Braden

Even John—carefree, world-traveling, marriage-forswearing John—had fallen prey to the affliction. To Kate, love was indistinguishable from a consuming parasite of the mind.

told him you fancy me.” Disbelieving silence fell. Her skin could light a thousand candles.

“Broderick,” she whispered, placing a second hand flat over his heart. “How am I to protect you if you won’t let me?” God, she stole his breath from his body. Rain had started. It was pelting him now, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was her hands. All he saw was her eyes. She meant it.

“Think ye every English lass has a yearnin’ for tartan and bagpipes?” She snorted. “Aye, who doesnae love music that sounds like two cats tuppin’ inside a rain barrel?”

“Clearly, an overcompensation. But you did not marry some ordinary milksop miss. I am a Huxley. Adversity is our fuel. Challenge us, and we only burn brighter.”

She gave him one of her glowing smiles, and he cracked. Split like wood down the middle. The wood burned to ash, revealing what lay inside. Need. Dark, shocking need.

“Ye’re infatuated?” “Thoroughly. One might even say …” She shuddered against him. “In love. It’s dreadful. I cannot bear to speak it aloud.”

He kissed her. He couldn’t help it. She was the most enchanting, bewildering, unintentionally seductive woman he’d ever known.

“True. But I know this: I would sooner die than watch him suffer. And I would not stop fighting until he was free of that place, no matter the consequences. Because love means you value him above yourself.” She paused before repeating the woman’s earlier words back to her. “Can you say the same?”

❤️ love

“I’ll nae tolerate yer pain, mo chridhe. Ye must glow for me. My heart. My light. ’Tis all I have to keep me sane.” She collapsed in his arms. Buried her face in his muscular neck and slid her tired arms around him.

But Kate could not take her eyes from the man. He was badly scarred. Yet, she’d never seen anyone handsomer. She wanted his arms. She wanted his mouth. She wanted him to sing again. Love shone from him like a lighthouse in a storm. She reached for him.

Broderick stroked the gleaming wood with reverent fingers. He looked at Kate, and her heart squeezed hard enough to stop her breath. “For ye, I’ll sing, mo chridhe.”