“Margaret quirked her lips, looking much like the imp their mother used to call her. "What flower would ye pick for Katherine Campbell?" Callum snorted. "I wouldna pick flowers." "Ye let her take a bite out of ye." Maggie looked up at him, then cut him off when he opened his mouth to speak. "Ye fancy her. What flower would ye pick for her?" "Tulips," he mumbled, ignoring her knowing smirk.”

“Lookin' at ye is like baskin' in the summer sun after a long, cold winter. 'Tis like seein' home after a battle that's left ye empty and alone." He kissed her mouth, her nose, her eyes. "I dinna' know how 'tis possible, but each time I see ye, ye grow more beautiful to me.”

“I'll no' love ye, Kate Campbell. No' ever.”

“At her gesture Michael cursed and caught her hand, falling suddenly atop her.She stared up at him wondering what bedchamber faux pas she’d committed.He groaned at her look. “I’ll let ye pet and play all ye want—after. Now I need”—he pushed her chemise to her waist, parted her thighs, and settled between them—“to be inside ye.”

“Graham,” she warned,tight-lipped, as he carried her up the stairs. “I’ve a dagger with me. Do not force me to use it on you.”“Aim fer my heart first, lass,” he said, his gaze fixed and hard on hers. “Fer I think it has turned traitor on me.”His heart? Dear God, she did not want to kill him! And why would he say such a thing to her? What the hell did he mean? Did it have something to do with his being here alone instead of off somewhere rutting with a serving wench?”

“Would she ever get used to the way his eyes tried to speak to her from beyond the darkness that plagued him?”

“Ye belong to me,” he said, whispering the words against her mouth, “only ye refuse to admit it, even to yerself. But ye will. One day, Ye will. - Alysandir Mackinnon”