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Lara Zeroun needs something in her life, so she opens a portal in time and travels to the ancient Highlands. But, how can she become involved with a dark, mysterious man who belongs to another time?
Due to the matriarchal line of inheritance, Iain is no longer able to lay claim to his fatherâ€™s lands. Heâ€™s prepared to leave--until a golden-haired woman visits the manor on the arm of a wandering storyteller. But, with no land and no possessions, Iain dares not succumb to the temptation of Lara.
Danger lurks in Iainâ€™s time and becomes a threat to Laraâ€™s present. Will Lara and Iain be able to defeat the evil and make their ways through time--finding the love they both desire?
Laraâ€™s back was to him, her bare back. She was curled in the old bathing tub and wet, dark-golden hair straggled between her shoulder blades.
Iain could not breathe, would not be able to move to save his life. Until she shivered.
"Ooh, close the door, Beitris, youâ€™re letting in cold air.â€
Iain sank against the door and stumbled back as it slid closed. The latch fell with a finality that made Iain jump away from the warm wood. A tremor ran along his skin. He should leave, should look away at the very least. But, he could not.
Lara lifted one arm over her shoulder, dangling a rag. "Iâ€™m almost done, but could you do me one more favor? Would you wash my back?â€
Forgotten, the pile of clothing dropped with a soft swoosh to the floor. Iain moved in a trance, one hand lifting to take the rag from her fingers. Lara hunched forward exposing the narrow width of her back. He knelt behind her and dipped the rag in the warm water. Laraâ€™s other hand lifted holding a lump of soap. When his palm touched the tips of her extended fingers, the soap plopped into his hand.
A pleased sigh expanded Laraâ€™s shoulders. "Thank you. This is wonderful. And the soap is wonderful, too. The fragrance is much like what my grandmother makes for me.â€
Iain soaped the rag but hesitated with it nearly touching her golden skin. Strange thin stripes of pale, creamy skin stood out in stark contrast to the darker tan. He ached to touch those stripes and taste them with his tongue. The breath burned tight in his chest.
Lara gasped when Iain rubbed the cloth softly over her back. Then she rotated her shoulders. "Ah, yes. Thatâ€™s what I needed. You have been a great help to me today. Donâ€™t stop, please.â€
If he only could. Intense concentration kept him breathing, for the swirl of suds over her back was a potent aphrodisiac. When she swiped her hair forward over one shoulder, he could see a tiny red mark at the base of her neck, a birthing mark that begged for his kisses.
The growing tightness of his loins became unbearable. He shifted position. And dropped the rag. Unable to allow the torture of reaching beneath the water to search for it, he cleared his throat.
"Oh, my God. Iain? What are you doing here?â€ Lara sank as far into the water as she could and tried to cover herself with her hands. Accusation glared from her eyes. "Whereâ€™s Beitris?â€
Iain willed himself to look away from her nakedness, to offer her the honor she deserved. All he could do was lower his gaze to the lump of soap still clutched between his fingers. Lara turned sideways in the narrow tub, arms wrapped over her breasts, and cocked her head to one side. Her eyes were wide while she waited for his answer. The sudden hard lump in his throat mimicked the firm ache of his groin. Somehow, he swallowed and found his strained voice.
"I brought you fresh clothing.â€ He winced and glanced at her. Did he truly sound so dull-witted?
"Oh. Beitris hasnâ€™t been here?â€
Iain shook his head. A shy grin gently stretched Laraâ€™s lips. He could not draw his gaze from the rosy fullness. At least it was more honorable than looking at the pink skin below the waterline.
"You will have to finish rinsing my back, then.â€ She turned and leaned forward. After fishing through the water, she lifted the sopping rag to him. Iain held his palms out to her in denial and shook his head. "Please, I will itch terribly if you donâ€™t wash off the soap.â€
The thought of causing her discomfort centered painfully in his chest. He sighed the feeling away and took the offered rag. Using long, careful strokes, he rinsed the drying suds from her bent back. Even when there was no soapy residue remaining, Iain continued to swipe the rag across her skin. Her breathing changed subtly, matching his.
*lizzie made up games and stories to keep her company as a child. So, a witch lived in Grampaâ€™s weather research station and was only held at bay by a certain weed. An ancient road grader became a boat carrying wild adventurers to islands filled with sheep that turned into lions and cannibals.
Now, the stories of her imagination are beginning to find their way to paper and pixels. Filled with fantasy and love, these tales take her far from the mundane world.
When *lizzie has to return to that mundane life, sheâ€™s a lead cook at a university dining service. Happily, the folks she works with have become accustomed to her writerâ€™s ways and just shake their heads when she goes off on some fantastical tangent, asks strange what if questions, or just has to find a piece of paper and a pen that actually writes. One of her greatest delights is to watch the joy of writing fill a friend, and sheâ€™ll do anything to help them achieve their dream.
And someday, when she grows up, *lizzie wants to be eccentric.
*lizzie adores hearing what you think about her tales.
"It sparklesâ€¦â€ -- Margaret B Lawrence, author of Caresse: A Loving Touch
Lizzie Starr pens an original romantic fantasy with Keltic Flight. I enjoyed learning that faeries can be sexy. The winged hero Korin faced difficult, even lethal obstacles sure to destroy his chance to win Nanceen. His determination and devotion made this inter-species romance a very pleasurable read.
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 294
Paper Weight (lb): 12.5
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