Page 61 of Desire's Ransom
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Temair bit the inside of her cheek. Why hadn’t Mor gone with the others today? She almost always went out on fair days.
It didn’t matter, she told herself. As long as her hostage remained in camp, that was all that mattered. And if Mor’s giddy giggling and limpid gazes kept him from leaving, it was for the best.
Flann and Bran nudged her thigh.
She frowned at Mor, whose auburn hair was shining like copper in the morning sunlight.
The dogs bumped her leg again.
She clenched her jaw. For a man about to meet his bride, it seemed Ryland was becoming a bit too friendly with Mor.
Flann barked. Bran barked.
“Shh!” she hissed.
