Lord of the Black Isle by Elaine Coffman Read Free Book Online

through all the undergrowth that lined it.
    Utter silence surrounded her as she picked up her pouch and moved deeper into the trees, keeping an eye on the naked man as she drew even with him and she saw… plenty, and it all appeared to be in magnificent working order, for he was just about the most splendid example of manhood as she had ever seen—and she was, after all, a doctor and had seen a great deal of the male anatomy. In fact, the rest of him looked good enough to bump old David off his pedestal in the Piazza della Signoria and take his place.
    She paused to partake of life’s offering and felt not one iota of embarrassment as she stared stupidly, with her mouth gaping like a backwoodsman on his first visit to town, but she would have to say in her defense that she was polite enough to chastise herself from time to time for gawking. And then she reminded herself that she shouldn’t waste her precious time to pause and gawk, for the MacLeans could be searching for her at this very moment. But what woman in her right mind wouldn’t look when afforded such an opportunity?
    She was thinking that he was a prime candidate to help her get her mind off Ronan and being left at the altar, so to speak. Yes, if this black-haired Scot, proud as Lucifer before the fall and naked as a needle in broad daylight, couldn’t get her mind off her recent predicament with the MacLeans, there had to be something wrong with her.
    Of course, she was just talking big, for she wasn’t on the verge of going over to his side of the burn and striking up a conversation, for that could be a good way to end up with her head on a pike. Still, she had to hand it to him, for he was one fine specimen of a young, healthy male in any century. It was a good omen, for she knew her feelings, when it came to men, weren’t as dead as she thought.
    All and all, Scotland was looking better and better all the time, for who wouldn’t enjoy the site of a gloriously naked man without a smidgen of modesty? Of course, he was unaware that she was watching him with heart-thumping relish and drooling from the other side of the burn, while at the same time feeling Shakespeare was right on target when he wrote “Can one desire too much of a good thing?” Apparently not, for there he was, luring her like the scent of something sweet and forbidden, and desire rose within her like a burning flame begging to be fed.
    She studied the beautiful musculature of his chest, the ripple of muscle when he moved, and then the rather melancholy face and long, dark, damp hair while she was, thinking… Something about him seemed familiar… for surely he had stepped right out of a dream. He was wearing only chausses—his bearing haughty and proud. She closed her eyes for a moment to clear the mental image of him from her mind, for she was certain he was a figment of her imagination, but when she opened her eyes, he was still there. No vision, but a mortal who stepped out of a dream right into reality.
    For a brief moment, they were like Adam and Eve alone in the Garden of Eden, but then she came to her senses and realized that they might be alone now, but the MacLeans were sure to be looking for her and more than likely hot on her trail, so it was time to move on and leave this enchanted spot. With a sigh of disappointment, she regretted she had to turn away. She truly wished she could enjoy the scenery longer, but she had to put some distance between herself and the MacLeans if she ever hoped to escape.
    She turned away and continued to follow the winding burn, careful to stay near the water’s edge and on the rocks that lined it so she left no footprints. As she walked, she kept thinking about long, dark hair and well-honed muscles, and promptly fell over a log.
    At that exact moment, she heard a rustling in the bracken and knew the MacLeans had caught up with her. She pounded the ground out of frustration and was starting to get up