Maeve Greyson
ISBN 978-0-7582-7339-0
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A sexy Scot. A mystical inheritance. What could go wrong?
Veternarian Hannah MacPherson knows better than to believe in love at first—or any—sight. True, being swept away by Taggart de Gaelson to the vast Scottish castle she’s mysteriously inherited is uber-romantic. The legacy is totally legitimate, and its messenger is big, broad-shouldered, and smokin’ in more ways than one…
Too bad Taggart forgot to mention that Hannah’s also a Guardian of magical dragons called the Draecna. And as Hannah’s sworn otherworldly protector, Taggart is honor-bound not to lay a hand on her, no matter how close he gets…
But turning duty into pleasure is just too tempting. And for Hannah, mastering her powers and saving two worlds from evil will be way easier than showing one hardheaded warrior that breaking all the rules means they are eternally made for each other…
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“What doesn’t make sense?” Taggart mumbled, scanning the uppermost branches of the treetops and dropping his gaze to the darkest shadows beneath the bushes. He did his best to keep his voice low; to keep her calm, something neared, something meaning them both ill will. Had a minion followed them? Where the hell was it?
Hannah frowned down at Taggart’s hand on her arm then huffed as she slid out from under his grasp. “If the Guild of Barac’Nairn has watched over Taroc Na Mor for untold centuries and you’ve known all about my family, then why didn’t my grandmother or mother hear anything about this wondrous Scottish Disneyland and inherit Taroc Na Mor before either of them died? That’s the part about your little story that doesn’t make any sense.”
With a warning growl exploding from his chest, Taggart lunged, grabbed Hannah by the shoulders and dove over the railing of the bridge. He folded Hannah up against his chest and rolled with her underneath the structure. He cradled her head just above the water as she spit and sputtered against his chest.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your fu− are you insane?” Hannah clawed and kicked against him as the water rushed between their bodies.
“Shut up woman, so I can hear them!” Taggart jerked her hard against his chest, pressing his back tight against the base of the bridge. He reached out with his senses and listened across the dimensions, strained to hear the slightest sound.
They had disappeared into the wind. Attack and leave, like they always did. A quick strike and then fade into the wind or the rain to ensure no one detected the destruction was their magic. They couldn’t risk those on this side of the threshold discovering their existence.
Taggart slogged his way out from under the bridge and unrolled Hannah out of his embrace. He patted her arms, felt the top of head, then finally tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up for a closer look. “Are ye hurt? Did I scrape ye when I yanked ye over the railing?”
“Bend down here.” Blinking the water out of her eyes, Hannah hissed from between gritted teeth.
“What?” Taggart asked, bending closer to peer into her dripping face.
Hannah wadded up her fist and punched him right in the mouth, giving a satisfied huff as blood spurted from the split welting in his lower lip.
With a yelp of surprise, Taggart clapped his thumb to his mouth and backed a few wary steps away. “Now what did I do to deserve that, ye wicked little beast?”
“What did you do to deserve that?” Hannah’s chin dropped to her chest as she paused from wringing out her ponytail. “You drag me off the bridge, yank me into the creek, tell me to shut up and then you ask me what you did to deserve a punch in the mouth? Are you kidding me? You’re lucky that’s all I did. And then you call me a wicked little beast?”
“Look over there!” Taggart pointed just beyond the bridge to the stand of trees just even with the height of her throat. Several good-sized oaks stood twisted off as though they’d been the size of toothpicks and now their splintered trunks lay scattered across the path like over-sized stalks of harvested broccoli.
Hannah stared at the downed trees. Her fingers traveled to the base of her throat as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She turned and scanned the surrounding area, searching for the source of the destruction. “We just walked down that path.”
Taggart nodded. “Aye. We did. That verra same path.”
Hannah looked back at the trees. “Those trees weren’t down then.”
Taggart shook his head. “No. They were not.”
Hannah wrapped her hand in the hem of her wet tee shirt and stretched on tiptoe to blot at Taggart’s bloody lip. “Bend down here. I’m sorry. —I guess.”
Taggart bent to accept her reluctant apology. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d stopped bleeding within a few seconds. The lass hadn’t hurt him; she’d just surprised him when she’d popped him in the mouth. He came from the other side. He healed at a much faster rate. Besides, he rather enjoyed the sight of her creamy white belly teasing up at him as she used the hem of her wet shirt to dab the dried blood at his mouth.
