“Her gaze met his, her green eyes glazed and filled with shadows. "I-Iain?" Iain understood those shadows only too well. She was in shock. She had witnessed the full horror of war. Worse, she had killed a man. Like a young soldier after his first battle, she was struggling to cope. 'Twas an anguish no woman should have to bear.His rage broke like the tide against the shore, and before he could think, he pulled her hard against him, held her, stroked her hair. "You foolish, brave woman! Why do you no' obey me?" "What the bloody hell is he doin'?" Connor asked from somewhere behind them. Morgan answered, "I think he's punishin' her." "If he tries this on the men, they'll mutiny.”

“She didn't have any intention of crying. The tears caught her by surprise. She knew she was behaving like a child, that she was being terribly foolish and emotional, but she didn't know how to stop herself."Judith?" His thumb brushed away one of the tears on her cheek. "Tell me why you're crying.""There weren't any flowers. Iain, there should have been flowers."Her voice had been so soft, he wasn't certain he understood her. "Flowers?" he asked."Where weren't there any flowers?"He waited for her to explain, but she stubbornly remained silent. He squeezed her."In the chapel.""What chapel?""The one you don't have," she answered.”

“She lowered her head until it was at his level. He stroked the line of her jaw, and then pressed his forehead against her hard snout and held her as tightly as he could, her scales sharp against his fingers. Hot tears began to slide down his cheeks.'Why do you cry?' she asked.'Because... I'm lucky enough to be bonded with you.''Little one.”

“When she awakened, Hunter was watching her with eyes like dark velvet."You're the last woman I'll ever make love to," he said, stroking her breast, toying with the rosy peak. She stroked his sun-streaked hair and the hard nape of his neck, loving the feel of him against her."Good," she whispered. "Keep me with you, Lara. I don't want to leave you.”

“You're an idiot," she whispered tearfully.Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her; by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms.For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, "Are you dead too?”

“When Philippa had first demanded his help in eluding Kate and travelling to St Mary’s, he had indignantly refused. He was there now because he had discovered, to his astonishment, that she was desperate, and perfectly capable of going without him. Why she had got it into her young head she must see this man Crawford, Cheese-wame didn’t know. But after pointing out bitterly that (a) he would lose his job; (b) the rogues in the Debatable would kill them, (c) that she would catch her death of cold and (d) that Kate would never speak to either of them again, he went, his belt filled with knives and her belongings as well as his own in the two saddlebags behind his powerful thighs, while Philippa rode sedately beside him on her smaller horse, green with excitement, with her father’s pistol tied to her waist like a ship’s log and banging against her thin knees.”