Moon Craving by Lucy Monroe Read Free Book Online Page A

marriage.
    That should not have bothered him, but the soft-spoken woman he had met the night before seemed to deserve more. Even if she was English. She had been so vulnerable, and yet when he had demanded to know if she planned to marry him, she had taken her time replying.

    She had weighed him. He could feel her doing it, and she hadn't been adding up the size of his lands in her head. She'd been judging him personally, and something inside him had refused to be found wanting.

    She was nothing like Emily, which was both good and bad. He did not relish the prospect of being likened to a goat by another Englishwoman, but he had no desire to see Abigail Hamilton eaten up and spit out by his clan. Emily had come to the Highlands to protect this very sister from such a fate. He could not help believing her fears had been justified.

    Abigail spoke in whispers, seemed oblivious to her beauty and had a nervous habit of holding her hand over her throat when she talked. As if she was preventing the wrong words from coming out. His wolf felt protective toward her like he did no other besides family. Since the only one left, his younger sister, Caitriona, was now mated to the Balmoral's second-in-command, it had been a long time since Talorc had felt those instincts stir so restlessly.

    He wanted to believe it was only because the woman was slated to be his wife, but his wolf had shown no such concern for her sister when King David had originally instructed Talorc to marry Emily. The wolf had wanted to howl at the evidence of bruising on Abigail's pale skin.

    And then hunt.

    Talorc spent his time waiting for his bride's arrival glaring at the woman's mother and forcing down the wolf's threatening growls.

    Lady Hamilton had that same greedy, unreasonable look to her that his stepmother, Tamara, had had. As if she expected the world to do her bidding, and woe betide anyone who refused. At first, the bitch had attempted a smile, but Talorc merely warned her with his eyes how close to death she had come by mistreating the woman that was his.

    The fact that he had not wanted an English bride made no difference. The kings had dictated that Abigail was to be his, and no one dared to mistreat a Sinclair. He was still tempted to kill Lady Hamilton, despite his bride's pleas to the contrary. His wolf clamored for retribution, if not death.

    Eventually, the English lady began to squirm under his hostile regard.

    Good. She had no place in Abigail's life and he meant her to know it.

    Niall cleared his throat, but Talorc did not need the prompting. He had picked up Abigail's scent the moment she entered the chapel. Fragrant herbs, known to heal, mixed with her own unique perfume, created a heady fragrance that called to his beast. It was all Talorc could do not to turn to watch his bride walk up the aisle.

    It would not do to show such interest though. The English baron might take it as a courtesy. Not that his wolf seemed to care that Abigail herself was English. The beast never took notice of women, but he certainly noticed Abigail.

    And wanted her.

    With a ferocity that forced Talorc to keep strict control of the semi-stiff member under his kilt.

    The wolf fought to get out and make itself known to the woman about to marry the man. Talorc had to concentrate harder than he ever had on keeping his wolf inside while he waited for Abigail to make her silent trek up the aisle on the arm of the baron.

    Finally, he turned, if only to appease the wolf.

    Abigail was not smiling, but she did not hesitate in her slow procession toward him.
    She looked scared but determined, and he respected that.

    It was easy to face battle without fear; much harder to face it with uncertainty of the outcome. Eyes the color of rich earth reflected fear but not terror. That was something. He should not care, but he did not like the idea that marriage to him would terrify her. It was natural for her to be somewhat worried about her future.

    She was leaving