The MacDonnells had haunted her nightmares for most of her short life. The MacDonnells were coming, and one careless move might see her bones melted to Cameron stew before this day was done. She sneezed, then clapped a chubby hand over her mouth and burrowed deeper into the hedge. Tiny feathers of pollen tickled her nostrils. Sabrina Cameron rubbed one of her mother’s plump tea roses beneath her uptilted nose. Why did he have to choose now, when she sensed his admiration might be even more lethal than his enmity? For so long she had yearned for him to look at her with affection. A splinter of anger twisted in her heart. She looked up to find his gaze taking a leisurely jaunt up her body, finally coming to rest with bold regard on her face. “You’ve grown,” she blurted out accusingly. To hide her consternation, she lowered her gaze. You were dripping all over Mama’s Flemish rug.” Terrified she was going to revert to a stammering six-year-old, she snapped, “I’d say not. “I suppose if you’d have known it was me, you’d have let me bleed to death.” Mortified by her own boldness, she snatched her hand back.Ī wry grin touched his lips. She felt that old, familiar kick in the stomach and knew she was standing face-to-face in the moonlit tower with Morgan MacDonnell, his boyish promise of masculine beauty come to devastating fruition.
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