Laird of the Game by Lori Leigh

that Daniel was a gentleman.
    “Let go of my wummun!” Alexander challenged, and Daniel finally released her.
    He was about to beat Daniel senseless when she distracted him with a soft, warm kiss on his lips, and he forgot about murder and mayhem for a few moments.
    During the week at the camp, she was escorted to several “scenic” areas to find a location for her next painting, but she had something special in mind and asked Evan to take her to the lovely stone arched bridge.
    Evan was impatient, she noticed, and walked with her everywhere they went at a brisk pace instead of taking a horse from the stables. He told stories of ancient battles, valiant warriors, and heartbroken wenches while she painted. He was known as the camp Bard and entertained them beside the evening campfires.
    Melissa loved sitting beside Alex and listening to the burr in their voices as the brothers exchanged tales. They sounded ancient next to her American accent. Melissa was also beginning to feel a sense of possessiveness toward the family as her Celtic Gods commanded the army that surrounded them. They taught her Gaelic while she taught them English. They learned their lessons quickly and be the end of the week they could communicate without Alexander there to act as an interpreter for her.
    She was always under one of their protection, as they called it, and she knew it was because she couldn’t find a sense of direction. One way seemed as good as another to her. More than once she was told she was on her way to England and to turn around. To her, one ridge looked just as beautiful as the other.
    To the MacKenna’s, she had frayed every last nerve they possessed. She had nearly discovered their helicopter, parked on the launching pad on the ridge and nestled into a secluded glen, and Gideon’s medical instruments were lying out on a table when she entered his tent to speak to him. They had managed to keep her from inspecting the livery while she visited Yorath, and concealed the stamped leather saddles from view.
    The warriors were instructed not to talk to her, or Alex would go into a jealous fits and beat them all senseless. They feared Alexander’s wrath and avoided her religiously.
    Iain cooked their breakfast every morning over a wood-burning stove. The entire clan was so poor they had to steal their food from the Prince.
    Melissa worried she would be an added burden to them and couldn’t bear to tell him she hated mutton. It was their mainstay, and she nearly choked it down for supper every evening. She would give just about anything for a burger at the Lion’s Tap and a frosty mug of root beer instead of the tea they drank. Her diet had drastically changed, her clothing was lost in the future, and hair was giving her fits with the lack of products to tame the frizzy ends during a humid July afternoon. Gideon made her a leather thong to tie her hair into a pony tail, but it was Robert’s gift of hand-made hair pins that let her put her hair into a coil, that she finally had it under control.
    Wearing the same dress every day was also getting on her nerves and laundry facilities consisted of dipping a garment into a tub, beating it with a rock, and tossing it over a tree branch. They all wore shirts and Kilts, so she found Robert to discuss a proper place to do laundry.
    He suggested it was women’s work, and the way women had always managed.
    “Chauvinist!” She ran after him to beat him senseless. Alex caught her and tossed her over his shoulder to hold her back from wrapping her hands around Robert’s throat to strangle him.
    It was a week she would never forget. No wonder the women didn’t live very long, she thought as she hauled water for the roman bath at the cottage from the Loch. The women didn’t paint their nails, because their hands were raw from chopping wood, she reasoned and gave up any pretense of managing the sharp axe. She had to learn how to do the simplest tasks all over again, like washing dishes,