The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

She turned to face the scolding head-on. It would be interesting to see what he had to say since he had become so leery about choosing the wrong words. “And I shall give ye the same answer I gave before, ‘I came back to save yer sorry arse from the English.’”

Fair brows knotted over his narrowed eyes. He swelled with a deep inhale, then snorted it out.

“Ye know ye look like a Highland bull when yer nostrils flare like that.” She pointed at his boots. “All ye need do now is paw at the ground.”

“Disobeying me when I am trying to protect ye is not a jesting matter, lass.”

She stepped closer, giving him a stern look of her own. “Ye best learn now that I dinna ‘obey’ well. I trust my instincts when it comes to protecting myself and those I care about. They have yet to fail me.”

His demeanor immediately changed. It relaxed. Warmed. He closed the remaining distance between them. “So, ye do care about me then?”

“Aye, I do.” She swallowed hard, nearly choking on the admission. How could she not? He had made it damn near impossible not to…to…dare she even think the word? Name that dangerous emotion? “I am not a fool. Ye think I would promise myself to someone I despised?”

He slid his hand along her cheek and laced his fingers in her hair. “It’s fallen loose,” he whispered.

“What?” Between the intensity of his touch and his intoxicating nearness, she struggled to concentrate on what he meant.

“Yer hair.” With both hands, he fluffed her waist-length tresses through his hands. “Ye must ha’ ridden hard to come back and save me.”

“I did.” She rested both hands on his chest, then slid them up the warm, muscular expanse to his shoulders. “Now, ye must give me time to tend to my hair, or yer kin will surely think ye have brought them a mess of a woman.”

“I like it loose,” he said as he leaned closer. “And I dinna give a damn what they think,” he added in a husky whisper against her mouth. “May I?”

“Ye may stop asking permission before each kiss. I promise ye will know well enough when ye’re not welcome to proceed.”

His smile tickled across her lips until the heat of the kiss seared the tickling away. Never had she felt as safe and cared for as she did at that very moment. Surrounded by rock-hard muscles but held as gently as a babe, a breathtaking combination of fierce strength and warm tenderness swept her away on a wave of happiness. The longer the kiss lasted, the more she wished it never to end. Disappointment filled her when he lifted his head.

“We…should go,” he forced out, his breathing ragged. “The lads.”

“Aye.” She blinked, struggling to pull free of the delicious daze. “The lads.” With a reluctance born of few pleasures ever received, she stepped out of his embrace. A long ribbon snagged in the neckline of her shift reminded her of her hair. Hands flying to repair the damage, she turned and looked in the direction she had left his horse hidden. “Yer horse is that way. Straight through those bushes. Ye might fetch him whilst I sort out this mess.”

He stilled her hands and fixed her with a look that also stilled her heart. “Not before ye swear ye will do as I ask from now on when I’m trying to keep ye safe.” He paused, his gaze fierce and searing. “Ye forced me to acknowledge I still have a heart. Dinna rip it in two by getting yerself killed because of foolish stubbornness, ye ken? What if it hadna been Lord Crestshire? What if it had been a detachment of soldiers, and they laid claim to both of us? Where would that have left Keigan? Do it for him, if ye willna do it for me. In any other matter, I dinna give a rat’s arse if ye do as ye damn well please, but when I fear for yer safety, I need ye to do as I say. Will ye do that for me, mo chridhe?”

As much as it hurt her to admit it, he was in the right, and she had been wrong—for all the reasons he had stated and more. “Aye, I admit I didna use good sense.” Any other man would have beaten her for disobeying, and rightly so. But not Magnus. He had made his point painfully clear by speaking to her heart. “Will ye forgive me?”

“Aye, love.” He framed her face in his hands but didn’t kiss her. Instead, he arched a brow. “This time, ye ken?”

“I ken.” She smiled, then nudged him away. “On wi’ ye now, while I tame this rat’s nest.” She returned to smoothing back her blonde curls and twisting them into a neatly plaited bun.

A low pounding, loud as thunder and steadily growing stronger, startled them both.

“Come!” Snatching hold of her hand, Magnus plowed into the nearest thicket, then balanced them both as they slid down the hillside and took cover behind the broad base of a mighty tree uprooted and half fallen. He covered her body with his as he peered upward, watching the road.

Brenna recognized the sound now. Horses. Many horses. Galloping at a hard run. But then she heard an even more frightening sound: silence. The drove of riders had stopped just above them. She held her breath, praying it was Lord Crestshire’s men and not followers of the tyrant he had said would soon be in their midst.

“There!” came a shout. “See the branches?”

“Thank the gods,” Magnus muttered as he pushed himself to his feet and offered her his hand. His reassuring grin calmed her pounding heart. “’Tis Alexander. The chieftain.”

“Praise God Almighty.” She held tight to him as they slogged up the steep hillside that had been much easier to slide down than climb.

“The MacCoinnich guards,” Magnus announced with pride as they crested the shallow ravine and stepped out of the bushes. “Alexander!”

“How many men