âI am well aware of what Glasgow is like, Mr. McAllistair, and I am sure I will be given opportunity to come and go as I please.â
Logan took her hand and slid it through his arm, keeping his hand over hers as they walked to the inn. Nothing out of the ordinary escorting a lady like this. He truly longed to make her more than a friend. Having her to hold pulled at his heart.
How would he watch her with another man? He tightened his grip on her arm, as if he could stop her from leaving him. Sheena was betrothed to Mr. Mackenzie; that fact never left his thoughts. Betrothals equaled marriage. Only the formalities remained. How could Godâs plan for them come to this? Logan stopped, making Sheena stumble backward a bit.
âSheena.â Logan looked at her with an intensity he felt surge from his core. âYou cannot marry Mr. Mackenzie.â
EVA MARIA HAMILTON found true love online. She has been married for over twelve years and has a beautiful daughter. An enthusiast for lifelong learning, Evaâs studies span diverse fields of academia in both Canada and the United States. With a diploma in human resources management, a bachelor of arts degree in psychology, an honors bachelor of arts degree in history, and a master of science in education, Eva realized her studies focused on one thing: the human condition. What better way to share this knowledge of and passion for humanity than by writing about it? Part of a close and loving family, Eva would like to embrace her readers as friends. With computers playing such an important part in Evaâs life, youâre invited to connect with her on her website at www.EvaMariaHamilton.com.
I dedicate this book to my immediate and extended family, especially my mother-in-law, Josie, father-in-law, Joe, sister-in-law, Yvonne and the Tomasevic and Perri families, with a special thanks to my husband, Jason, daughter, Michelina, parents, Lina and Bob, brother, Bill, and grandmother Angelina for all their help, encouragement and support writing this book.
Thanks to the Toronto Public Library for hosting Deborah Cooke as their Romance Writer in Residence extraordinaire. Deborah, thank you. And thanks to Missy Tippens who introduced me to the lovely F.A.I.T.H. Girls and talented writers and friends of Seekerville. Your camaraderie, along with friends at Harlequin.com are invaluable. To my wonderful editor, Emily Rodmell, and everyone in the Love Inspired family at Harlequin, including Tina James and Krista Stroever, you have my gratitude. Plus a special thanks to Carolyn Graziani and everyone in the art department, including Sam Montesano, for creating a beautiful cover. And to God, whom I thank daily for all my blessings, thank you for always filling my life with such outstanding people.
My lover spoke and said to me, Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See!
The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come. The cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.
âSong of Solomon 2:10â13
Callander, Scotland 1748
Sheena Montgomery stood completely still at the top of Bracklinn Falls. The sound of rushing water filled the gorge. The rock underfoot felt hard and cold, a mirror image of her heart.
Alone, she looked past the tip of her toes dangling dangerously over the edge of the steep cliff. Several yards down the water crashed against the soft pudding stone, wearing it away. With all its fury, the water fought, eking out a way through the world. Pushing forward, not caring what it hurt in its path.
âSheena?â a manâs voice leapt out of the silence behind her, making Sheena whirl around so fast she lost her footing. In shock, she waved her arms frantically trying to regain her balance.
The man raced forward. His strong arms pulled her away from a certain death. âThere now, Iâve got you. Youâre all right.â
Sheena stood staring at the manâs face, his raggedly long brown hair and beard unfamiliar to her. But his eyes, those deep brown, soul-piercing eyes. Unforgettable.
Sheenaâs voice caught in her throat for a fleeting moment. âLogan?â Her eyes surely fooled her. She envisioned herself succumbing to her fatherâs mental illness. Because Logan McAllister had left Scotland five years ago. He couldnât be here. She never thought she would see him again.
âI hoped to find you here, lassie.â Sheena just looked at Logan. In all the years heâd lived in the Americas, heâd never sent word. Not one letter saying he was still alive.
But she wasnât losing her mind and wouldnât die the same way her father had this past autumn. Loganâs arms cradled her against his warm chest. Her senses heightened. His smell, his touch, his very being, raced through her with dizzying speed. She stared at his lips, remembering their warmth.