Seduced by a Highlander by Paula Quinn

replant. She needed it for her tea in the winter months when it became harder to breathe.
    What made her lonely quest more difficult was that Tristan MacGregor was with her almost every step of the way. He invaded her thoughts in the day and in the night, no matter what she was doing, no matter how hard she chased him away. She’d been afraid of him at Whitehall—afraid of what he wanted. Afraid of how he looked at her, as if he meant to possess her at any cost. Why would he want her? And why could she not put his kiss out of her thoughts?
    She hated him for haunting her, and in her mind she told him so, often. But he only smiled.
    It was a peculiar thing about his smile. At the palace, it always seemed to be lurking somewhere about his face, ready to shine forth and ravish the heart of anyone looking at it. Ah, the first two days spent with him, before she knew who he was, had been blissful indeed. His laughter made her forget everything else. He seemed to take such joy in simply living—though at times she was certain she saw a hint of melancholy carefully shielded behind the crook of his decadent mouth. What was his inner turmoil? Did he hate himself for being a rogue instead of being one of the men from his tales of chivalry? She almost laughed at the thought of him hating himself. Indeed, the man knew he was mesmerizing and wonderful. For a MacGregor, that is.
    Being away from him this last sennight had done nothing to lessen his effect on her. In fact, during Patrick’s tirade when she’d returned home without Alex, she had found the memory of his smile rather calming. It was careless and unshakable, as if nothing was bad enough to spoil his day—no matter how gloomy. She wished she possessed that kind of resolve.
    She pushed through four more shrubs and stabbed her finger on a prickly leaf. What did he have to be so happy about? Cursing, she brought her bloody finger to her lips and kicked Tristan from her thoughts for the thousandth time.
    She had to find the plant soon. Patrick needed her. Damn Alex anyway. He was a grown man, and she refused to worry over him. If he chose to leave his family for risk and adventure, there was nothing they could do. They would all split up his chores and make do without him.
    Would Tristan stop his savage family from cutting Alex down? Was Alex with Tristan right now, sharing ale and secrets with him in one of the king’s grand rooms? Dear God, she prayed that Tristan kept his word and did not try to befriend her brother.
    Ye’re a flame, Isobel. And a flame is more allurin’ than a pile of embers.
    She patted her cheeks with her palm and muttered an oath about Tristan’s wily tongue. “Go away from me now, ye bastard.” Hiking her skirts above her ankles, she trampled through the next line of bushes, determined to forget him.
    She spotted a dense patch of foliage in the distance and picked up her pace. Even if she could search tomorrow, she’d have to start from this point, hours away from her home. As she grew closer, one of the shrubs broughta thankful smile to her face. There it was, her miracle plant. Her mother had been giving her butterbur tea since she was a babe. Not too much and never dry, for it could harm the liver. Isobel never asked how her mother knew these things. Mothers just did. Oh, how Isobel missed her. But the plant was becoming scarce, and it frightened Isobel to think of her life without it. Ox-eye daisies could be used as well, but butterbur worked faster.
    She reached out to graze her fingers over one of its heart-shaped leaves, bigger than her entire hand. She’d need to dig up the—
    Her thoughts ended abruptly at the click of the pistol somewhere behind her head.
    “What are ye doing on m’ land, lady?”
    Isobel closed her eyes and willed herself not to scream. Who the hell would hear her? “I… I was just going to…”
    “Speak up!”
    She nearly leaped from her skin and instinctively turned around to face him. When she saw the