By Karen Marie Moning
He may promote his warrior soul to own her. . . .
An eye-catching laird...
He was once recognized during the country as Hawk, mythical predator of the battlefield and the boudoir. No girl may possibly refuse his contact, yet no girl ever stirred his heart—until a vengeful fairy tumbled Adrienne de Simone out of modern day Seattle and into medieval Scotland. Captive in a century no longer her personal, solely too daring, too outspoken, she used to be an impossible to resist problem to the sixteenth-century rogue. Coerced right into a marriage with Hawk, Adrienne vowed to maintain him at arm's length—but his candy seduction performed havoc along with her resolve.
A prisoner in time...
She had an ideal "no" on her ideal lips for the infamous laird, yet Hawk swore she could whisper his identify with hope, begging for the fervour he longed to ignite inside her. now not even the limitations of time and area might preserve him from profitable her love. regardless of her uncertainty approximately following the promptings of her personal passionate center, Adrienne's reservations have been no fit for Hawk's choice to maintain her by means of his part. . . .
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Additional info for Beyond the Highland Mist
She insisted. " The Comyn studied her, then shrugged. "Scotland. " Her heart stopped beating within her breast. It was not possible. Had she truly gone mad? Adrienne steeled her will to ask the next questionthe obvious question, the terrifying question she'd been studiously avoiding since she'd first awoken. She'd learned that sometimes it was safer not to ask too many questionsthe answers could be downright unnerving. Obtaining the answer to this question could tamper with her fragile grasp on reason; Adrienne had a suspicion that where she was wasn't quite the only problem she had.
Once she was uncloaked as a charlatan, the Comyn would make good on his threat to kill her. Suddenly that pressure vanished in a puff of smoke. In the here and now (if she was really here and now) she was crazy Janet Comyn. How could she be held accountable for anything she said or did that didn't make sense? Madness was a license to freedom. A license to do and say anything she wantedwith no repercussions. No Eberhard, no guns, no bad memories. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all. CHAPTER 5 ADRIENNE HAD BEEN WANDERING THE GROUNDS OF DALKEITH for several hours when she stumbled upon the smithy.
Methinks, Janet Comyn, you don't understand much of this world. Free her from me and you condemn her to death by starvation, rape, or worse. Free her from my 'loving attentions' and the next man may not be so loving. " Adrienne shivered violently as she struggled to tear her gaze from the plump white hand stroking rhythmically. The source of Bess's pain was the same hand that fed her. "Protected" her. Bile rose in Adrienne's throat, almost choking her. "Fortunately, he already thinks you're mad, so you may talk as you will after this day.