Page 104 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
“Ye want me to reconcile with my wife to give ye heirs?”
James slapped him playfully on his shoulder. “Fool! I want ye to reconcile with yer wife because she’s yer soul mate, as much as the eagle’s mate in the sky above, or the fish’s mate in the water below.”
“Aye,” Murdo said, as the ripples in the water moved closer. “She’s my soul mate. I knew it when I first saw her in that ballroom all those months ago—my wild, headstrong lass who outshone the other women as the sun outshines the moon.”
“Then tell her,” James said. “Showher.”
“If she comes back to me,” Murdo said, rising to his feet.
“She will,” James said, standing beside him. “Let her come of her own free will and she’ll be yers forever.”
Murdo nodded. “Ye’ll be a fine laird.”
“Aye—with Duncan at my side, and my brother at my back.”
James glanced toward the water again, and his smile broadened.
“What is it?” Murdo asked.
“I believe yer wife is coming to ye of her own free will.”
Murdo glanced at the loch. The ripples were moving closer. Then a pale arm lifted out of the water. A head came into view, then bobbed under the surface.
The swimmer drew near, then rose from the water, like a sea god.
No—not a god.
Agoddess.
Murdo’s mouth watered at her naked form—soft skin flushed from the exertion, droplets of water cascading over her curves, following the line of her breasts…
…and two pink nipples jutting proudly toward him.
“Sweet swiving heaven—ye’re a fortunate man indeed,” James said.
“I thought you didn’t like women,” Murdo said, tempering the possessiveness in his soul, which mirrored the lust surging in his cock.
“Any man can appreciate a beautiful female form,” his brother said. “Ye’ll have no concerns about bairns, not with those ripe, round—”
“That’s enough!” Murdo fisted his hands, his groin aching with need.
“Ha! Ye’ve got it bad, brother.”
“And ye’re no man if ye can’t respect my wife’s modesty.”
But Murdo saw no shame in Clara’s eyes—only pride.
She approached them, her gaze bold and direct, making no attempt to conceal her nudity, and his heart ached to see the scar on her arm—the brand in the shape of aD.
“Clara,” he whispered.
She turned her gaze on him, and though he waited for her expression to soften, she remained goddess-like—aloof, unattainable…
…and lost to him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clara fought toconquer her shame as she stood before Murdo and his brother. She fisted her hands to stop her body from trembling.
