Darach’s chest tightened at the sight of her wee hand in Lachlan’s. He fought the urge to snatch it back.
“She has stirred some, cried out in her sleep. I pray to God the damage isna permanent.” Physically, at least. Emotionally, she could be scarred for life. His arm tightened around her, and she moaned.
“Pass me some water.” Someone placed a leather flagon in his hand, and Darach wedged the opening between her lips. When he tilted the container, the water seeped down her cheek. He waited a moment and tried again. This time she swallowed, showing straight, white teeth. Her hand came up and closed over his, helping to steady the flask.
A peculiar feeling fluttered in Darach’s chest.
When she made a choking sound, he pulled the flask away. Her body convulsed as she coughed, and he sat her up to thump her on the back. Upon settling, he laid her back down in the crook of his arm.
“Christ, we doona want to drown her, Darach—or knock the lungs right out of her. Maybe you should give her to one of us to hold for a while?” Lachlan’s laughing eyes told Darach his foster brother deliberately provoked him. Another time-honored tradition.
Gare jumped in. “Oh, aye. I’ll hold the lass.”
“You?” Brodie asked. “You canna even hold your own sword. Do you think those skinny arms will keep her safe? I’ll hold the lass.” Brodie was a few years older than Gare and had already filled out into a fine-looking man. He was a rogue with the lasses, and they all loved him for it. No way in hell would he be holding her.
“Cease. Both of you,” said Oslow. “If anyone other than our laird holds the lass, it will be Laird MacKay. If she be a lady, she’ll not want to be held by the likes of you.”
Darach glowered at Lachlan, who grinned.
Then she stirred, drawing everyone’s attention. They waited as her eyelids quivered before opening. A collective gasp went up from the men, Darach included.
He couldn’t help it, for the lass staring up at him had the eyes of an angel.
They dominated her sweet face—big, round, innocent. And the color—Darach couldn’t get over the color. A piercing, light blue surrounded by a rim of dark blue.
A shiver of desire, followed by unease, coursed through him. He tamped down the unwelcome feeling.
“Sweet Mary,” Gare whispered. “She’s a faery, aye?”
All except Lachlan looked at Darach for confirmation. He cleared his throat before speaking, trying to break the spell she’d cast over him. Not a faery, but maybe a witch.
“Nay, lad,” he replied, voice rough. “She’s naught but a bonny maid.”
“A verra bonny maid,” Lachlan agreed.
Her throat moved again, and Darach lifted the flask. Opening her mouth, she drank slowly, hand atop his, eyes never leaving his face. He couldn’t look away.
When she’d had enough, she pressed his hand. He removed it, and she stared up at him, blinking slowly and licking her lips. Her pink tongue tempted him, and he quelled the urge to capture it in his mouth.
Then she raised her hand and traced her fingers over his lips and along his nose, caressed his forehead to the scar that sliced through his brow, gently scraped her nails through the whiskers on his jaw.
A more sensual act he’d never experienced, and shivers raced over his skin.
Finally, she spoke. “Par l’amour de Dieu, etes-vous un ange?”
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Acknowledgments
Well, we’re here…finally. Officially, Kerr is the last foster brother to find love and get his Happily Ever After, the conspiracy has been revealed, and peace has been restored to the Highlands. The series is over. Unofficially…we’ll see!
(I’m looking at you, Gregor MacLeod.)
I’d like to thank my editor, Christa Désir, for her insight into this particular story and her help in honing the various characters and story lines and bringing the manuscript together so perfectly. Much appreciation, Christa, for helping to make Highland Thief the best book possible. And to the design team, led by Dawn Adams, who have once again hit this cover out of the park. Big kisses to you all—I love it!
I also want to thank my previous editor, Cat Clyne, who discovered The Sons Of Gregor MacLeod in the Wattpad “slush pile” five years ago and offered me a contract for all five books. Thank you, Cat, for believing in me and in these stories, and for putting this series into the hands of readers. I’m sure my fans thank you, too!
As usual, much love and appreciation go out to my writing tribe, most importantly my fellow Mermaids—in particular Carol, Elizabeth, Jaycee, Kari, Layla, and Melonie. Thank you, ladies, for the chats, shared knowledge, and support. You da best!
And of course, to my family. It’s been a tough one. You all are rock stars, and I’m so glad that you’re the ones I get to isolate with—my happy little bubble.
Lastly, I want to thank my readers who so joyously embraced Gregor MacLeod, his foster sons, and the amazing women who brought these Highland lairds to their knees. Your enthusiasm and love for their stories fill my heart. I’d hug you all if I could.
It’s been a blast.
About the Author
Alyson McLayne is an award-winning writer of contemporary, historical, and paranormal romance. After earning her degree in theater at the University of Alberta, she moved to the west coast of Canada and worked in film for several years before buckling down and finishing her first published book.
She lives in Vancouver with her prop master husband, twin nine-year-olds, and a sweet but troublesome chocolate lab named Jasper. Soon to join the family are a couple of crazy kittens named Shadow and Topaz.
Alyson loves coffee, listening to podcasts, and watching Harry Potter with her kids. In case of emergencies, she keeps a stash of dark chocolate in the cupboard, which she savors late at night when she’s writing…and everyone else is asleep.
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