Now and Forever by Barbara Bretton

night that she had recounted McVie's story to Zane, glorying in the tale of courage and patriotism?
    "It has been a long and difficult morning," she said at last, accepting McVie's hand as she rose to her feet. "I pray you will disregard my momentary weakness."
    "Weakness in the fair sex is a most agreeable trait."
    "Strength is more agreeable, no matter the sex," she returned. How disappointing it would be to discover her childhood hero was a male chauvinist pig. "Don't you agree?"
    "Take me to your companion," he said, ushering her toward the stairs that led out from the root cellar. "A broken arm left untended can rob a man of his ability to earn a living."
    You don't know the half of it, thought Emilie as she climbed the steps, wincing at the assault of late afternoon sunlight. Zane was a physical man. He was accustomed to pushing himself to the limit, then beyond. Being restricted in any way would drive him right up the wall.
    Unfortunately that was the least of their worries.

    #

    The woman was sharp-tongued and swift to voice her opinions. That would explain how it was that she remained unwed, though Andrew as he followed her along the stone pathway toward the front door of the lighthouse. Her abundant tresses seemed to capture the sun then send its fire shooting back toward the sky. He wondered how she would look with her auburn waves piled neatly atop her head in the style the good women of his acquaintance favored. Of course, her style of hairdress was not the only unusual thing about the woman. He allowed that her strange attire must be the result of the accident. Perhaps her skirt had been torn on the rocks or she had used the fabric to bind her companion's wounds.
    She had no womanly embarrassment about her attire. She was neither coy nor modest. She walked before him with her head held high, unmindful of the shocking way her limbs were outlined for the world to see. The breeches fit her like a second skin. He wondered how or why she had knitted a pair designed to cling to her curves in quite so indecent a fashion. He could plainly see the shape and fullness of her buttocks, the slender shape of her thighs, the--
    She stopped abruptly and turned to meet his eyes. He felt as if he had been caught stealing apples from an unsuspecting farmer's orchard.
    "My companion isn't--he is not...thinking as himself since our boating accident."
    He looked back toward the dock where the rowboat was tethered.
    "That's not our boat," the woman said quickly.
    "Where is your boat?"
    "I don't--I do not know."
    "I see no sign of it anywhere."
    "We found ourselves dashed against the rocks, torn apart by fearsome waves, then tossed into the ocean with naught but our wits to save us."
    Clearly she would have continued spinning her tale of adventure and derring-do had Andrew not thrown back his head and started to laugh.
    "That is unconscionably rude of you, Mr. McVie."
    "I do not know what the truth is, lass, but this story of yours is most enjoyable."
    "It's not a story," she protested. Well, maybe the part about the boat was, but that was picking nits. "I saved his life."
    Were it any other but the strapping lass before him, Andrew would have had grievous doubts. He had never known a woman who was tall enough to look him straight in the eye before and the sensation was unsettling. However, it did explain her ability to save a grown man from drowning.
    His Elspeth had been a tiny creature, barely reaching his shoulder even in her best shoes. She had made him feel strong and protective. Everything a man should feel about the woman he had taken to wife. Sometimes late at night when sleep danced just beyond reach, she came to him in the shadowy world of his imagination, and he could smell the scent of vanilla on her skin and hear the sweet sound of her laughter as she said, "Put aside the ledger, Andrew. The hour is late and our bed is warm."
    No, this Emilie Crosse was a different type of woman and he found himself wondering what type of