by Wacht, Peter
Running her hands over him and satisfied that Thomas was unharmed, Kaylie stepped back, her tear-rimmed eyes appraising him. Then she formed a fist and punched him hard in the arm. Thomas winced at the blow. Kaylie’s swordplay had given her some added strength.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she told him quietly. Captured by his shining green eyes, she reached up with both hands to cup his face, pulling his lips to hers for a soft kiss, before she released him, almost pushing him away, then walked through the throng of Marchers who rushed forward to congratulate the Highland Lord.
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