Free Lord of the Black Isle by Elaine Coffman Page B

incomparably extraordinary about her. David was not the kind of man who was given to hasty assumptions about a woman who caught his eye or happened to stand out when compared to others. Yet this one was a strange sort, different from the multitudes, which made her quite unlike any woman he had met, and that went beyond the fact of her strange speech. He decided he would find out more about her before making his final decision on whether to believe or trust her.
    He was also a man with a man’s urgings and needs. He did have a good eye for beauty, and she definitely was a beauty who instantly caught his attention and held it. As he observed her, he found himself wondering if she was real or whether he was conjuring up a fantasy, for there was an almost ethereal quality about her that made him want to know more about her: who she was, and where she came from. And because he desired her, part of him wondered if she was truly a mortal or simply one who called home any place where the celestial spheres gathered. He found all of this a bit vexing because he could not find a place in his mind where she seemed to fit into his world.
    There was much to like about the lass. He was captivated by her hands. They were graceful, pale, and slim, but they moved with such seemingly effortless beauty and charm of movement that he felt spellbound simply watching her perform simple tasks… the brushing away of an errant wisp of hair, the way she held the reins in her hand, the way her hands encircled the cup when she drank. They were not the hands of an ordinary woman, even one of great breeding, for he sensed they held a magical quality.
    Her motions were deft and fluid, purposeful and yet full of grace. When she moved, he was reminded of the reeds at the loch, and the way they bent and danced at the water’s edge. She was unusual and that captivated him; mysteriously elusive and that made him wary and cautious. He felt himself drawn to her, not only by his masculine attraction to her, but by some unknown, stronger force. All he had to do was to close his eyes and he could see her as she had looked when he caught his first glimpse of her with her face bathed in sunlight. She had exquisite skin, the color and texture of cream that rises to the top of milk.
    Watching her when she was asleep was like studying a painting of the Madonna, for light played upon her heart-shaped face and lent a shimmering quality to the porcelainlike texture of her skin. All that was missing was a bowl of fruit on a table beside her. But the rest of her… his body stirred. She should be lying upon a tapestry heavily embroidered with red and gold thread. But it was the resplendent glow of her face that convinced him that something wholesome, pure, and giving dwelled within the heart and soul of her.
    Was she simply a beautiful mortal that he happened upon, or was she an enchantress who bewitched him with a spell that rendered him unable to resist? When he first saw her, he was struck with the urge to capture her and toss her over his saddle and ride away with her, to find a place where he could place her that she would be his and his alone to enjoy. Even now, watching her sleep, he had visions of what she would look like lying there completely bare, and the thought of it stirred him.
    He might have gone on thinking along these lines, had she not stirred and turned in her sleep, her skirt catching beneath her and exposing a long length of leg. He groaned and closed his eyes; then after a few minutes he stood and removed his hauberk, mail shirt, and belt. Then he dropped down beside her and lay there in the sheer agony of inextinguishable desire long after he drew his plaid over them.
    At some point during the night, she felt cold and she tried to pull her skirts down to better cover her cold feet, which did nothing to warm the chill of the rest of her. She had a vague thought that she should scoot a little closer to him, when he suddenly turned over and