“A scan of the walls had the grin turning to a wince. Blue ribbons, medals, awards were all neatly framed and displayed.There were photographs of her in formal riding gear flying over jumps, smiling from the back of a horse or standing with her cheek pressed to her mount's neck.And in a thick frame was an Olympic medal. A silver. "Well hell.We'll make that two portions of crow," he murmured.”

“Your Olympic medal.I went looking for you in your office.""The medal lures parents who can afford the tuition.""It's something to be proud of.""I am proud of it." With her free hand she brushed her hair as the breeze teased it. Her fingertips skimmed over the soft petals of the flower. "But it doesn't define me.""Not like,what was it? A British tie?"The laugh got away from her, and eased the odd tension that had been building inside her. "Here's a surprise. With a great deal of time and some effort, I might begin to like you.""I've plenty of time." He released her hand to toy with the ends of her hair. She jerked back. "You're a skittish one," he murmured."No, not particularly." Usually, she thought. With most people."The thing is, I like to touch," he told her and deliberately skimmed his fingers over her hair again. "It's that...connection.You learn by touching.""I don't..." She trailed off when those fingers ran firmly down the back of her neck. "I've learned you carry your worries right there, right at the base there. More worries than show on your face. It's a staggering face you have, Keeley. Throws a man off.”

“She took his hand, fumbled with the door herself. Breathless, she would have stumbled if he hadn't caught her. "Teach me to wear heels in the damn stable," she muttered. "My legs are shaking."With a nervous laugh she turned back to him. Her legs stopped trembling. At least she couldn't feel them. All she could feel now was the unsteady skipping of her heart.He was staring at her, his eyes intense. When she'd turned his hands had reached up to frame her face. "You're so beautiful."She'd never believed words like that mattered. They were so easily, and so often carelessly, said. But they didn't seem easy from him.And there was nothing careless about the tone of his voice.”

“The wild splash of red that was her hair tumbled over the vivid green of the bedspread. Shadows from the candle shifted over her face, reminding him of the impression he'd first had of her-the Gypsy-open fires,weeping violins. Her eyes were dark, pure gray,and waiting."We MacGregors," he murmured, "have ways of...dealing with Campbells."His mouth lowered but paused a whisper from hers.He saw that her lids had fluttered down yet hadn't closed. She watched him through her lashes while her breath came quickly.Slowly he shifted his head to nibble along her jawline.”

“Gennie,you should have told me you hadn't been with a man before." And how was it possible, he wondered, that she'd let no man touch her before? That he was the first...the only."Why?" she said flatly,wishing he would go, wishing she had the strength to leave. "It was my business."Swearing,he shifted,leaning over her. His eyes were dark and angry, but when she tried to pull away,he pinned her. "I don't have much gentleness," he told her, and the words were unsteady with feeling. "But I would have used all I had,I would have tried to find more,for you." When she only stared at him, Grant lowered his forehead to hers. "Gennie..."Her doubts,her fears,melted at that one softly murmured word. "I wasn't looking for gentleness then," she whispered. Framing his face with her hands, she lifted it. "But now..." She smiled, and watched the frown fade from his eyes.He dropped a kiss on her lips, soft, more like whisper,then rising, lifted her into his arms. Gennie laughed at the feeling of weightlessness and ease. "What're you doing now?""Taking you inside so you can warm up, dry off and make love with me again-maybe not in that order."Gennie curled her arms around his neck. "I'm beginning to like your ideas. What about our clothes?""We can salvage what's left of them later." He pushed open the door of the lighthouse. "We won't be needing them for quite a while.""Definitely like your ideas." She pressed her mouth against his throat.”

“It's a very odd feeling for a daughter to see her mother blush over a man.""You wouldn't?" Alan skimmed a thumb over her cheekbone. Shelby forgot her mother altogether."Wouldn't what?""Blush," he said softly, tracing her jawline. "Over a man.""Once-I was twelve and he was thirty-two." She had to talk-just keep talking to remember who she was. "He,uh, came to fix the water heater.""How'd he make you blush?""He grinned at me.He had a chipped tooth I thought was really sexy."On a quick ripple of laughter, Alan kissed her just as Myra opened the door."Well,well." She didn't bother to disguise a self-satisfied smile. "Good evening.I see you two have met.""What makes you think that?" Shelby countered breezily as she stepped inside.Myra glanced from one to the other. "Do I smell strawberries?" she asked sweetly."Your lamp." Shelby gave her a bland look and indicated the box Alan carried. "Where would you like it?”

“Did you ever climb into one of those suits of armor?""Caine did once-it took me over an hour to pry him out."Shelby gave a murmur of sympathy as she framed his face with her hands. "You were such a good boy." Her laugh was muffled against his lips in a sudden searing kiss.All heat,all fire, without a moment's warning."He climbed in," Alan continued as he tugged her hair back to deepen the kiss, "because I suggested it might be an interesting experience."Breathless,Shelby stared up at him. When would she be prepared for those sudden dangerous turns of his nature? "An instigator," she managed."An objective leader," he corrected before he released her. "And I did manage to get him out...after he'd scared the wits out of Rena."For a moment she leaned against the wall watching him, while the throbbing in her body slowly, very slowly, lessened. "I don't believe you were nearly as well-mannered as you once told me.You probably deserved that broken nose.""Caine deserved it more."Shelby laughed again as they moved down another corridor. "I like your family.""So do I.""And you enjoyed watching me go nose-to-nose with your father.""I've always been fond of drawing-room comedies.""Drawing room? It's more like a throne room.”