The Laird of Stonehaven by Connie Mason Page B

concentrate on honing your healing skills. Give my kinsmen no reason to fear you.”
    His voice was so stern, Blair tried to edge away, but he would not allow it. His face, half hidden by shadows, was set in determined lines. “I mean what I say, Blair. Mayhap you should sleep in my bed so I can make sure you dinna wander off in the middle of the night.”
    She stared up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Suddenly the whole world was held in his blue eyes and she could not look away. The glint in Graeme’s gaze should have warned her about the temptation her lush lips posed. Without any other warning, he brought his mouth down hard on hers. Magic enveloped her and she lost herself in the sweet bliss of his kiss, in the intoxicating sensation of his strong arms holding her against him, and the liquid warmth surging through her.
    But even as she enjoyed his kiss, Blair hated knowing that Graeme could make her want him so. Her strength was her pride. She was no weak creature whose life wasn’t complete without a man. Vaguely she wondered if Graeme had any idea of the effect he had upon her. God willing, he did not.
    But she could not deny that his kisses excited her. Without volition, her body pressed forward to meld with his. Despite the pleasure she felt, she was both angry and humiliated at the way her nipples hardened and at the blossoming warmth between her legs. Then the words she had heard earlier in the stillroom came back to haunt her. If she had interpreted their advice correctly, the spirits wanted her to become Graeme’s wife in every way. Still, she found it difficult to believe they wanted her to lie with Graeme, to take him into her body and become one with him.
    That thought was so exciting, she unconsciously allowed herself to be drawn deeper into Graeme’s kiss, to meet his tongue thrust for thrust, to open her mouth and taste him fully. Her mouth was seared by his branding possession, and she realized that she had never been closer to losing her powers than she was now. Then she felt his hand on her breast, burning her flesh through the material of her night rail and robe, and she knew that if she allowed him to consummate their marriage, she would be forever changed, just as the spirits had warned.
    Blair was already half in love with Graeme and feared that the communion of their bodies would spell the end of her powers . . . unless he loved her in return. And that was not likely to happen.
    She tried to bat his hand away, but he held it firmly against her breast. The iron clench of his jaw bespoke his determination, but she was just as determined to withhold herself from him.
    “What are you doing?” she cried, breaking free of the kiss. “What do you want from me?”
    “Naught but that which is my right to claim. Do you deny that my kisses move you? A man can tell when a woman is attracted to him. And a man has needs. Why should I satisfy them elsewhere when I have a wife?”
    “I willna lie, Graeme. I am attracted to you, and your kisses do move me, but I canna give up my powers for physical pleasure. The day you tell me you love me is the day I give my body to you.”
    He drew back as if struck. “You want me to lie? I can never love anyone but—”
    “You love a dead woman!” Blair charged. “Heath told me about Joan the Maid.”
    “Heath shouldna have regaled you with tales, but since he has, I willna lie. There will never be another Joan. I worshiped her for her integrity, her innocence, her zeal and her unwavering faith. I loved her as a mortal loves a goddess, too far above me to touch. ’Tis difficult to imagine myself in love with a woman less worthy than Joan. Since the world will never see another Joan, love has ceased to exist for me.”
    Blair’s heart sank. How could she compete with a saint? Her situation was hopeless. No matter what the spirits had told her, Graeme would never love her, and she would never know the fulfillment of physical love.
    “You should