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“No, and neither will you,” he said. “What you do know that others don’t is what you have already surmised. One of us—me, Duncan, Bryce, or Trey—is the true king of Scotland.”
She grinned. “You mean I actually could be married to a king after all?”
“It’s possible,” he said. “Would you mind?”
“Mighty warrior or powerful king, I love you no matter.”
“That is good to know,” he said, and brushed his lips over hers. “You can say nothing of what you have learned to anyone.”
“I understand. The king must be protected at all cost,” she said. “Did you know since you were young?”
“I can discuss no more with you,” he said firmly, “for your safety as well as his.”
She nodded and then grinned. “So I could be sleeping with a king tonight after all.”
“You’re going to be doing far more than just sleeping,” Reeve said, and with his arm around her waist, he swung her off him and under him.
She gasped, startled, when she came to rest beneath him.
“But first I have something to say, I’ve been aching to say to you. You refused to let me say to you. And now I am free to say it to you.” Reeve brushed his lips across hers and whispered, “I love you, Tara. I will always love you.”
A smile burst across her face. “Tell me again.”
And in between kisses, he did.
A special preview from the next book in the
Warrior Kingseries
Coming 2012 from Donna Fletcher and Avon Books
The little urchin ran like the devil was after him. His worn boots pounded the dirt, leaving a wake of dust in his trail. He couldn’t let the soldiers get him. He couldn’t. They would give him a thrashing for sure and then? He shivered as he ran, not wanting to think of what would happen if they discovered his secret.
He hadn’t been able to help himself. Hunger had gnawed at his gut until it had pained him. It had been two full days since he had eaten, and he had to have food, even if it was a stale piece of bread cast carelessly to the ground by a noblewoman.
No sooner had he scooped it up than the woman had started screaming, “Thief! Thief!”
It had been little more than a crumb and had done nothing to appease his pain. While the woman looked like she had not suffered from missing a meal in some time. It mattered not. Once the trio of the king’s men heard, they jumped into action and ran straight at him.
He barely had time to put distance between them, and fright gave his bone-tired body the strength to flee. He dodged and darted in and around the marketgoers and ware-barterers, slipped under makeshift tables, jumped over barrels and yanked free of the hand that grabbed at the back of his wool vest. His skinny legs pumped as fast as they could to avoid the soldiers gaining on him, perhaps even toying with him, making him believe he’d escape them when he truly didn’t have a chance.
His dark eyes darted in panic, desperate to find an avenue of escape. At the last minute, he spotted it: big, broad, and solid. Surely, he could take shelter beneath it. With all the strength he had left, he hurled himself at the solid mass, sliding on his stomach between the two limbs that stood rooted to the ground. Then he hurriedly wrapped his arms around one thick leg and held on for dear life.
A quick tilt of his head had his eyes settling beneath the Highlander’s plaid, and he gulped. Good lord, he was a big one, which meant he was strong and could protect, and the lad needed protecting.
“Please. Please, help me,” he begged, peering past the plaid to the giant Highlander, who stared down at him with a look of bewilderment.
“Hand him over,” one of the three soldiers ordered, while almost colliding as they came to an abrupt halt.
The urchin hid a smile, relieved at their reluctance to approach the large man.
“And what will you do with him?”
The urchin liked the sound of the Highlander’s voice; it confronted and dared all in one breath. He was not a man to argue with, but one to fear and respect.
“That doesn’t concern you,” the soldier said with trembling bravado.
“Why wouldn’t it?” the Highlander demanded sharply.
