Good morning! It’s not time to “Fall Back” from daylight savings time yet, but it’s after midnight on the East Coast and time for Six Sentence Sunday! Enjoy my first Six Sentence Sunday post, a quote from Highland Healer!
“Senga!” he cried while pulling Aileana up against his chest. She was so still, so pale, so cold, as though she had taken her own life and gifted it to Jamie.
Senga left Jamie’s side and reached out to Aileana, where she lay in Toran’s arms.
“She breathes, though weakly. She’s spent.” At the panicked look in Toran’s eyes, she continued, “Nay, no’ like that. She’ll no’ die on ye.”
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Despite his threats a few moments before, she had sensed no real animosity in him. She’d been treated well since arriving at the Aerie. Her dream of a home, with people who cared about her, perhaps a family of her own, rose unbidden to her mind, and with it came a familiar lump in her throat. She was tired, she thought, to let that longing overwhelm her now. She folded her arms under her breasts and kept her eyes on the flames. She heard Toran move from the door to stand behind her. She tensed as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. He turned her gently, but irresistibly, to face him.
“What should I do with so beautiful, so valuable, a prize?” he murmured, almost to himself.
His deep blue gaze ensnared Aileana as completely as his hands. She knew she should be outraged at being called a prize. He’d done it before, on the way here. Did he truly see her that way? She refused to be chattel any longer, she told herself, and would not allow him to treat her so. But she found she could not summon her ire. One of his hands left her shoulder and he lightly touched her cheek, then slowly slid his fingers down her throat to her collarbone. There, he hesitated, and Aileana held her breath until he moved the hand back to her shoulder.
His simple touch sent shivers dancing and nearly undid her.