By Iris Johansen
A princess and a warrior-chief are swept from the glittering courts of Elizabethan England to the storm-tossed cliffs of the Scottish Highlands, in an engrossing story of peril and wish.
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But that was more than enough. You couldn't let it be known, could you? There was already too much outcry about you keeping Mary prisoner. Since half of Scotland already looked upon Mary as a harlot, I'm sure you had no trouble convincing her to give up the child. " He leaned forward. "Then let's carry the supposition a little further. Suppose this child is Mary's daughter. " "Mary is no longer queen. " "But James has never been popular with the people. There are many nobles who would be pleased to find another Stuart to rally around.
Your soul flies free when you slumber and wallows in corruption. " He leaned forward, his eyes glittering with the fanaticism of his conviction. "You know how sinful you are. How could you not be depraved? You're the seed of a libertine planted in the womb of the greatest harlot born to man. The only way you may be saved from eternal damnation is through me. Now, confess. " The resistance suddenly seeped out of her. It would do no good to deny it, she thought wearily. " He relaxed slightly. "Very good.
One foot after the other. The trees were shifting around her, but she would not faint. It was only a little more than three miles to the cottage, and she could surely stay on her feet that long. She knew if she fainted, he would not stop. He would pull her after him through the forest until they reached the cottage. " Sebastian turned in the saddle to look at her. " He kicked the horse into a trot. The rope drew more tightly, jerking her forward. She had to remain on her feet. She must not fall.
The Magnificent Rogue by Iris Johansen