Meghan: A Sweet Scottish Medieval Romance by Tanya Anne Crosby, Alaina Christine Crosby Page B

that he had to reconsider. “Oh,” she said, sounding deflated.
    She was certainly a very good liar. Lyon tried not to laugh, but his shoulders shook with mirth. He couldn’t answer at once, and was relieved when she continued of her own accord.
    “The truth is that my mother was hardly mad,” she went on, “mayhap a bit... emotional. And my grammie... well, she was only eccentric.”
    This sounded more like truth, but then he realized she spoke of her grandmother in the past tense. Lyon’s brows lifted. “Was?” he asked, catching her slip of the tongue, and unable to keep himself from baiting her in return. “She was eccentric? And what is she now?”
    She peered back at him, her brows drawn together into a frown. She didn’t seem to catch his meaning at first, and then she did. “Is,” she amended at once. “Is, of course!”
    This time he couldn’t contain his chuckle. “’Tis good to know as I wouldn’t wish to bring a madwoman into my home.”
    “Oh?” she answered, and managed to instill a note of hope in the single word.
    Lyon waited for her to suddenly spout some confession of her own madness, but he waited for naught. She was much too shrewd for that.
    ‘I wonder what is keeping them?” She sounded worried.
    Stubborn siren.
    He couldn’t believe she would persist in this absurd charade. He supposed she was hoping he would change his mind, but she was hoping in vain, because the longer he considered this as a solution, the more convinced he was that he was doing the right thing. It was perfect for all concerned.
    She turned to search the path behind him, and Lyon was at once intrigued by the flush high upon her cheeks. Not only was he going to wed her, he vowed, but he was going to wed her of her own accord. He delighted in the challenge. Arrogant though it might be, he was perfectly confident in his... powers of persuasion. And he was feeling quite merciless just now, quite the Lion circling his prey.
    She brought out something primordial in him—something much more than lust. The need to hold her close was overwhelming.
    “They’ll be along,” he assured her, and had to restrain himself from leaning forward and brushing his mouth across the warmth of her cheek. He imagined the feel of her skin against his lips... and it sent a jolt of pure sensation through him.
    She seemed to have little notion of the tempest that raged within him. If only she realized, he was certain she’d be kicking and screaming now, instead of employing such sophistry against him. He swallowed with some difficulty as his mouth was becoming quite dry, and said, “’Tis more than likely Baldwin may have—”
    “There they are!” she exclaimed. “’Tis about time.”
    Lyon turned to find Baldwin emerging from the woodlands some ways behind them, dragging the little lamb in tow.
    She shrieked suddenly, startling the devil out of him. He had to reach out and snatch her back before she was able to leap from his mount.
    He jerked the reins, halting at once.
    “Are you mad?”

    M eghan didn’t have to pretend outrage for her grandmother’s sake.
    Her temper erupted at the sight of Baldwin dragging the poor lamb behind him. How dare he treat the poor creature so cruelly? She wanted to leap at Baldwin and snatch the hair from his head. Mounted upon his horse, he held the lead rope in hand, and was dragging the poor beast behind him, not bothering to slow when the confused animal resisted in fright. He was all but strangling the poor sweet baby.
    “How dare he,” she exploded.
    “How dare who what?” Lyon snarled, scowling at her.
    She didn’t care if he was angry with her just now. “Stop him,” she said in outrage. “Let me down! How dare he treat her so unkindly?” Meghan glared up at him. “Tell him to lift her onto his mount, Sassenach, or I’ll not go with ye.”
    “The lamb?”
    Meghan cast him daggers with her eyes. “Fia,” she countered. “Her name is Fia. Tell him to let her ride, or I’ll