The Fraser Bride
“She reared away from him. In the darkness, her eyes looked as wide as a child’s. The innocence was a lie, of course. But against his arms her hands trembled, and for an instant he was tempted to pity her. To learn her past. To right the wrongs.
History, however, had taught him better than to give in to temptations. The price was more than he was willing to pay.
“You lie,” he said simply. “And quite convincingly, I might add.”
“Whatever do you mean?” She tried to pull away, but he kept his arm wrapped loosely about her back so that her upper body was slanted slightly away from him. The light from the tallow candle behind her shone through the thin fabric of her night rail. Her breasts, small and soft and hopelessly enticing, seemed to glow with an iridescent light of their own.
He had always had a weakness for glowing breasts, he thought wryly. Pulling his gaze from the sight with a hard effort, he snapped his attention to the conversation at hand.
“The Munro,” he said simply.
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