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never felt so alive or alert.
Every tiny part of her body couldfeel Braden. The skin over her neck where his breath fell in a soft,
rhythmic pattern. Her back where his body heat warmed her through and through.
But worst of all, she felt him in her heart. For it was there where he made her feel secure. There where
she ached for a dream that could never come true.
Her throat tightened at the thought.
And it was through her pain that she wanted to enjoy this night. To pretend that for one moment he was
hers and they were lying here as lovers.
With the dream foremost on her mind, she tried to relax. But that was as impossible as sleeping.
Aggravated at herself and her foolish dreams, she propped her head on her arm and forcibly closed her
eyes.
A few minutes later, her arm fell asleep. The rest of her remained painfully conscious. Unwilling to let
Braden know how much his presence disturbed her, she tried to wad her plaid up into a small pillow.
Her shoulder began to ache.
Over and over, Maggie shifted her head and arms trying to get comfortable.
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It was useless.
Just as she resigned herself to a sleepless night, Braden reached out and touched her arm.
Here, he whispered, pulling her back against his front. Lean on me.
She wanted to argue. Nay, she needed to argue, but she couldn t. Not when he felt so good.
Reluctantly, she allowed him to cradle her against his chest.
Now,this was comfortable!
She lay with her head on top of his biceps, where she could feel the strong muscle as it shielded her from
the hard ground. Though his body felt as strong as steel, it made a most wondrous pillow.
Closing her eyes, Maggie savored the wicked feel of Braden wrapped around her and the rich masculine
smell of him. He encased her with his presence and it seeped into her very soul.
And still she couldn t sleep.
Worse, she knew Braden was all too aware of the fact that she was lying there, stiffly, in his embrace. In
fact, she could feel his stare on her even though she kept her eyes stubbornly closed.
A braver lass would never lie so passively while the man of her dreams held her so intimately. But she
didn t know what else to do.
What would it take for her to make him see her as a woman? Or, more to the point, make him see her
as the only woman for him? She didn t want to be just another female in a long line of females, she
wanted to be his only one.
Aye, she wanted to tame the wild wind. To touch his heart where no other woman had ever reached.
But that was impossible.
Even if she dared be bold with him, she was terrified he would deny her. How would she face him if he
pushed her away, or worse, laughed at her feeble attempts?
Oh, what s the use, Maggie? You know what happened the last time you tried to impress him.
Her mind drifted back to the day she had turned ten-and-four. She had taken extra care to dress for
mass that morning, for it was on that day that for the very first time in her life she had felt she really was a
woman.
And she knew Braden would be at the kirk.
Over and over as she struggled to dress, she had told herself it was going to bethe day Braden noticed
her. He d take one look at her in her finery and he d realize that she was finally grown and that she was
the only woman he would ever want. The only woman he would ever love.
In her mind, she had even pictured him going down on his knee before the entire clan and vowing his
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eternal, undying love for her while all the girls who had been mean to her would look on in envy. Then the
two of them would ride off together and live happily ever after.
Certain of her success, Maggie had meticulously coiled her hair about her head, and worn her mother s
best kirtle and plaid. True, the yellow kirtle had been a bit large and mature on her, but to her it had been
beautiful, and it had made herfeel beautiful. She had even worn a special pair of high-heeled slippers for
which she had paid the cobbler two dozen eggs.
When she had joined her brothers for the wagon ride to the kirk, they had frowned at her clothes, but
none said a word about her attire.
They didn t have to. The other boys of the clan had said plenty.
Look, Davis had said the moment she arrived at the kirk and descended from the wagon. It s a
scrawny, speckled chicken with a skinny chicken neck, wearing a grain sack three sizes too big. The
others had taken up the cry of Bock, bock, and to this day their scorn resonated through her soul.
They had chased her back to the wagon, where her brothers had stepped in and sent them running, but
the damage had already been done. Her beautiful hair had fallen down around her shoulders, and she had
broken one of the heels from her shoes. Her mother s dress was stained and her plaid torn.
At that moment, she had hated herself. Hated the way she looked and hated the fact that her mother
hadn t been there to help her be more attractive. More ladylike.
The only saving grace of the day had been Braden s absence. At least he hadn t witnessed her
humiliation.
Nay, Braden would never be interested in her. Especially since the only attractive part of her, her hair,
was gone. Sighing in regret, she fought the tears that wanted release.
Braden watched Maggie. Something was troubling her, and his heart wrenched for all she had suffered in
her young life.
Maggie had always been strong. Even now he could remember the way she had looked when her father
had been buried. It had been the coldest day of winter and she had stood there with tears brimming in her
eyes as the icy wind cut through all of the mourners, but not one tear had fallen. Anghus had been so
shaken, he could barely walk. It had been Maggie who helped her brothers home. Maggie who took
care of them.
Braden had gone to offer his condolences, and as he rounded their small cottage, he had found her
doubled over in grief. But the moment she had seen him, she had straightened, dried her eyes and pulled
herself together with a strength of will that amazed him to this day.
Lord, what a hard life she had lived. Her brothers, and most of the boys in the clan, had been unmerciful
in their teasing of her. Her father had censored everything she had ever done to please him.
And still she was the most giving, kindhearted woman he had ever known.
Without conscious thought, he reached out to gently stroke her hair. The silken, russet strands caressed
his fingers and stirred his hunger for her.
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Isit her you want, or is it just a woman ?
For the first time in his life, Braden paused.
Never before had he considered such a thing, but then, he d never had to. Women had always come to
him. Sought him out and offered their bodies to him without reservation.
But Maggie was different. She had never pursued him. Instead, she had always withheld herself, almost
as if she feared him.
Tonight, that bothered him.
Leaning forward, he inhaled the floral scent of her hair, allowing it to wash over him and captivate his
senses. She was luscious and soothing, like a warm summer breeze.
Losing himself to his impulses, he trailed his hand from her head, down her arm, and snuggled even
closer to her warmth.
Maggie s eyes flew open.
Was he& ?
Aye, he was! Braden was actually running his hand down her hip as he smelled her hair.
Is he supposed to do that?
Nay, woman, you know better than that. You re supposed to be married to a man before you let
him sniff your hair and run his hands over you.
Aye, but his hand felt good. Wonderful, in fact.
Maggie!
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