“She told me that love has a magic all its own.”

“I see this is not the first time you've gotten yourself injured," she said, sounding irritated. "I suppose battle scars are a badge of honor for you Highlanders."He shrugged. "Every scar provides a...”

“Good God, the lad is a lass!”

“Had her ordeal addled her mind? She was on a horse with a wild Highlander going God knew where with men even he did not trust and yet she found it thrilling!”

“No one lacked imagination like the English. Yet he could not dismiss the notion that this lass dressed in breeches could be the seer his grandmother foretold. Finding an English lass lying on a Sco...”

“I knew how you liked long tales," he said, giving her a wink. "There's sure to be plenty of those.""In Gaelic," she said."All the better for learning it.”

“Ya smell like honey," he said. "I'm allergic to bees," she whispered. "I'll do my best not to sting ya, love.”

“No matter how much he denied his attraction to her, those red curls haunted his dreams like brilliant flames that couldn't be extinguished... "Fuirich air falbh on teine," he said under his breath,...”

“The only thing that can hurt me now is the thought of never knowing this feeling again. To never be able to touch you this way again...”

“Good God, the lad is a lass!”

“She wouldn't let him pop her cherry, but he could damn sure heat up her pie. The mere thought of a little blanket bingo made Kenna squirm in the saddle.”

“Scotland - The Highlands - Thirteenth Century "Have ye e'er seen such a lovely set o' bosoms?”