Free A Lesson in Passion by Jennifer Connors Page A

ground. Truth was, Ginny was never
a “pee in the woods” kind of girl. The few times she went camping
she insisted on facilities. She could live without a shower for a
couple of days, but did not like using the world as her toilet.
Fortunately, she wasn't wearing any panties to get in the way.
After a few frustrating minutes, and some near misses with her only
clothing, she finally came out from behind the tent. Thankfully,
she could not see Ian to tell how angry he was for her taking so
long.
    “Ya'll be riding with me today. Ya
might want to get some water and a bit of something to eat before
we leave,” damn if he wasn't sounding surly again.
    “Where can I get some food?” Ginny
kept her voice even, since she wasn't in the mood for an
argument.
    Ian gave an exasperated
sigh. How much trouble would this girl
be? he thought to himself as he led her
towards one of the fires. There, one of his men was making oat
cakes. This might be a first for
her , he thought more merrily than
earlier.
    The warrior, a man named Duncan, happily
invited her to sit down with him. He handed her a cask to drink
from, filled with weak ale. He was regaling her with stories of his
life and skill. Duncan told her that he was unmarried and did not
have the same prejudices against the English as the rest of his
clan. Ginny could do nothing but smile. She thought he looked
awfully young, but knew that she was probably pretty young looking
too.
    Ian noticed the two from across the
camp, laughing and flirting. His jaw clenched at the sight. What is that boy doing? he thought as he walked back over to the fire.
    Ginny had just taken her first bite
of an oat cake and was surprised at how it tasted like nothing, no
flavor at all. Still , she thought, when in Rome, any port
in a storm, beggars can't be choosers.
    When Ian came back, Ginny noticed
that first, he looked downright pissed off and second, he was
amazingly handsome in the firelight. The angular lines of his face
were more pronounced and his hair looked like it was on fire. She
could see the set line in his jaw and immediately wondered what
she'd done this time. Dear God, I was just
sitting here , she thought, closing her eyes
and lifting her face to the sky.
    “If yar ready to go, come wit' me,”
Ian said as he was walking away.
    “Thank you for breakfast, Duncan. I
hope to speak to you again sometime.”
    Ian was getting more perturbed. Surely she
wasn't interested in Duncan. Why, the boy couldn't even fight that
well and was skinny. “Now! Lady Chatham,” he screamed at her to get
her moving.
    Ginny ran after him with a smile on
her face. Could the laird be
jealous? She certainly hoped so. It would
probably be the brightest point in her day. As she followed behind
Ian, she began to sing Do You Believe in Magic by the Loving
Spoonful: Do you believe in magic? In a
young girl's heart, How the music can free her, Whenever it
starts.
    As she continued to sing, Ian was
rethinking taking her with him. She's
obviously daft or she wouldn't be singing to herself. What could I
be thinking?

 
* Chapter 8 *
     
     
     
    Ginny began to realize that this dream may be
some sort of purgatory. How else could you explain that she had not
awoken to find herself in a hospital bed without any memory of the
strange goings on she had experienced.
    Also, how could you possibly explain that she
could feel and smell and taste this “world” she found herself in.
Is God just messing with her for being too picky about men, or is
he punishing her for reading a handful of romance novels on her
worst vacation ever?
    Riding on Ian's lap for the better part of the
day, Ginny was reminded why she always hated horses. Of course,
they smell, but worse, they had minds of their own. Riding them
made your ass hurt and there is always the fear they will start to
gallop and pop your butt right on the ground. Ian was kind enough
to balance her on his lap, but the lack of control was something
Ginny had always hated