The Eternal Highlander by Lynsay Sands, Hannah Howell

body.
    Cathal slipped from her grasp, dampened a cloth in the bowl of water set out on a table by the bed, and washed them both clean of the remnants of their passion. He smiled faintly at the way she blushed, charmed by the hint of modesty and heartily pleased that it was not strong enough to dim her desire when they made love. He sprawled on his back and pulled her into his arms, savoring the way she curled her body around his. Some benevolent spirit must have been smiling down on him the day Jankyn had set Bridget in his bed.
    “So, lass, was it worth it?”
    Bridget smiled against his shoulder. She could not believe she wanted him again, but she did. “Weel, ’tis hard to say,” she murmured as she stroked his taut stomach. “A person shouldnae make a judgment too quickly and on so little evidence. Of course, if ye are too weak and weary—” She laughed when he abruptly reversed their positions and proceeded to show her that he was more than capable of giving her more “evidence.”

Eight
    Bridget caught herself humming as she strode through the village at Mora’s side and shook her head. She was so happy, she made herself uneasy. Yet it was difficult to subdue the joy warming her heart. She had a beautiful husband who made her wild with desire, there had been no sign of trouble from the Purebloods for a month, and today was a sunny, warm day. The little village she strolled through was beautiful, the narrow valley it sat in was too lovely for words, and its fertile fields were plowed, planted, and already showed signs of a growing crop. She was so pleased with herself and her life, she could easily believe she was blessed.
    She knew there were problems that still needed to be solved. Despite their silence, she doubted that all the Purebloods had accepted her or Cathal’s plans for the clan’s future. Although Cathal obviously shared her passion, there was no sign yet that he returned her love. She knew there were a few secrets remaining about the MacNachtons that Cathal did not seem inclined to share with her. She still had not gained the courage to share all of her secrets with him, either, and it often made her feel painfully guilty. At times, even when they were sprawled in each other’s arms, limp, sated and sweaty, she got the feeling Cathal was not completely satisfied, that there was something he needed or wanted that she was not giving him.
    “Wheesht, lass,” Mora said, “your moods change near as often as the weather. One minute ye are all smiles, the next ye look as if ye have a pain in your belly.”
    Bridget was surprised into a laugh as she paused by a rough table where several bolts of cloth were displayed. “I was just thinking about how wonderful everything is. I was feeling so happy, it was nauseating.” She smiled when Mora laughed. “I must say,” she murmured as she ran her hands over some soft linen, “there are some verra fine goods for sale in this wee village.”
    “Aye, the MacNachtons have a taste for fine things and the coin to buy it. We have some verra skilled people, too.” Mora frowned. “The word begins to spread. Tisnae so rare now to find people from outside the valley traveling here to buy our goods. Our weavers are much admired, ye ken.”
    “Oh, dear. Good for the people of the village, but—” Bridget hesitated, not sure how to express her concern.
    “Aye. But. Tis why the laird seeks a few changes.”
    “Changes nay welcomed by all, although it has been verra quiet for a month.”
    “Verra quiet. I would like to think ’tis all settled, but I cannae. That Scymynd has always coveted the laird’s chair and now he feels he has the cause needed to pull others to his side. He and a few others are verra prideful, e’en vain.”
    “Like Edmee.” Bridget was pleased she had not even caught a glimpse of the woman since the wedding, but could not convince herself that Edmee had given up her desire to have Cathal for her own. Worse, Bridget had never garnered