“She glanced rapidly between them, blinking and hoping her double vision would go away. They were glaring at each other. Would they fight? If she saw her own double she probably be tempted to punch it once or twice. Especially today. For being so stupid.”

“Life was rich and full. She couldn't have asked for more.Well... actually... she amended with a little inner flinch, she could have.Though most of the time she looked at Adam and just felt awed and humbled that this big, wonderful man had given up so much to love her, sometimes she hated that he didn't have a soul, and sometimes she wanted to hate God.And she had a dream, a silly dream perhaps, but a dream to which she clung.They would live to be a hundred, until long after their children and grandchildren were grown, and one day they would go to bed and lie down facing each other, and die like that, at the same moment, in each other's arms.And this was her dream: that maybe, just maybe, if she loved him hard enough and true enough and deep enough, and if she held on to him tightly enough as they died, she could take him with her wherever it was that souls went.And there she would do what was in her blood, what she now knew she'd been born for; she would stand before God, a brehon, and she would argue the greatest, the most important case of her life.And she would win.”

“Her eyes narrowed, and her lips parted around a knowing laugh. "Oh. It's you.""Pardon?" He was taken aback. "Do we know each other, lass?" He was quite certain they didn't; he could never haveforgotten this woman. The enticing manner in which her lips were currently pursed would have been seared into hismemory."The answer is no. I don't know you. But every other woman in this room does. Duncan Douglas, isn't it?" she said dryly.Duncan studied her face. Although she was young-perhaps no more than twenty-she had a regal bearing beyond her years. "I do have some reputation with the lasses," he conceded, downplaying his prowess, confident of her impending maidenly swoon.The look she gave him was far from admiring. He did a double take when he realized her gaze was downright disparaging."Not something I care for in a man," she said coolly. "Thank you for your offer, but I'd sooner dance with last week's rushes. They would be less used. Who wants what everyone else has already had?" The words were deliveredin a cool, modulated tone, shaped by an odd accent he couldn't place. Quite finished with him, she presented herback and resumed talking to her companion.Duncan was immobilized by shock.”

“Gwen smiled and asked hopefully, "Is there coffee again this morning?"Silvan put his book down and glanced absently at Gwen. His gaze dropped to her cleavage, and a single white brow shot up. He blinked several times."There certainly is," Nell said, circling the table. She stopped behind Gwen and draped a linen cloth over her shoulders, so it tumbled from her neck like a bib."Peel yer eyes off the lass's breasts," Nell said sweetly to Silvan.Gwen turned twenty shades of red, sneaked a hand beneath the bib, and tugged at her bodice, trying to jiggle them back down a little. Mortified, she devoted her attention to eyeing the medieval dining ware-plates and goblets made of heavy silver, a fat spoon and broad knife, and heavy blue bowls."She's the one who fluffed them up," Silvan protested indignantly. "I didn't mean to look, but they were ... so ... there. Like trying not to see the sun in the sky."Nell arched a brow and circled round the table again."I hardly think 'twas ye she fluffed 'em for, was it lass?" Gwen glanced up and gave an embarrassed shake of her head.”

“In her dreams the Hawk would be waiting for her by the sea's edge; her kilt-clad, magnificent Scottish laird. He would smile and his eyes would crinkle, then turn dark withsmoldering passion.She would take his hand and lay it gently on her swelling abdomen, and his face would blaze with happiness andpride. Then he would take her gently, there on the cliff's edge, in tempo with the pounding of the ocean. He wouldmake fierce and possessive love to her and she would hold on to him as tightly as she could. But before dawn, he would melt right through her fingers. And she would wake up, her cheeks wet with tears and her hands clutching nothing but a bit of quilt or pillow.”

“Circenn moved swiftly, intending to catch the tear upon his finger, kiss it away, then kiss away all her pain and fear, and assure her that he would permit no harm to touch her and would spend his life making things up to her; but she dropped the flask onto the table and turned swiftly. "Please, leave me alone," she said and turned away from him. "Let me comfort you, Lisa," he entreated."Leave me alone."For the first time in his life, Circennfelt utterly helpless. Let her grieve, his heart instructed. She would need to grieve, for discovering that the flask didn't work was tantamount to lowering her mother into a solitary grave. She would grieve her mother as if she'd in truth died that very day. May Godforgive me, he prayed. I did not know what I was doing when I cursed that flask.”

“As she entered the room, she halted abruptly. "Oh, my," she murmured. Somehow she'd managed to forget there were three men in her home, soconsumed had she been with thoughts of Grimm. They gathered near the fire, while several maids cleared dozensof platters and dishes from the massive table centered in the Greathall. Yesterday, safe behind the balustrade, Jillian had been struck by how tall and broad the three of them were. Today, standing only a few feet from them, she felt like a dwarf willow in a forest of mighty oaks. Each man stood at least a foot taller than she did. It was downright intimidating to a woman who was not easily intimidated.”