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Zusatztext "Touching, humorous and wonderfully romantic."—Elaine Coffman "Like Lavyrle Spencer, Ms. Johnston writes of intense emotions and tender passions that seem so real that readers will feel each one of them."— Rave Reviews "Johnston warms your heart and tickles your fancy."— Daily News , New York Informationen zum Autor Joan Johnston is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than sixty historical and contemporary romance novels. She received a master of arts degree in theater from the University of Illinois and graduated with honors from the University of Texas School of Law at Austin. She is currently a full-time writer living in Colorado. Klappentext It is the Regency period! and Alastair Wharton! the Duke of Blackthorne! conceals his true identity to become the bodyguard to the new head of the clan MacKinnon! the beautiful! fiery-spirited Katherine. Katherine is challenging the Duke's claim to his most profitable estate in Scotland and he is determined to learn everything about her. Watchful of her every move! Alastair soon finds that his deception may yield results beyond his original intentions. Leseprobe Mr. Ambleside's furious voice broke the silence. "Robbers! Thieves! Wake up, you fools! Search the house!" Kitt took a quick step sideways and leapt. She might have landed safely, if Alex hadn't lurched to catch her. He lost his balance and fell, and she plummeted down on top of him. She knew the instant she rolled to a stop that she had hurt herself. She lay frozen, the breath knocked out of her, afraid to move, her left leg bent back at an awkward angle. "Kitt?" "'Tis Lady Katherine to you," she wheezed. "Bloody hell, woman, how badly are you hurt?" Alex said, untangling himself and kneeling beside her. "Do I dare move you?" Kitt moaned. "I dinna know. My leg . . ." His hands followed the course of her twisted leg from thigh to ankle. "I dinna feel any broken bones," he said. Kitt couldn't speak. Her heart was clogging her throat. Alex's touch had been impersonal, but she had felt heat in each spot where his fingertips grazed her thigh, her knee, her calf, her ankle. She wanted to move, to escape his touch, but her leg wouldn't cooperate. "Help me straighten out my leg," she whimpered. She had to clench her teeth to keep from sobbing aloud as he unbent her injured knee. Tears pooled, and when she blinked, one slid from the corner of her eye. "Why couldn't you just let me catch you?" he muttered, brushing the tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Would it be so awful to admit you need a man's help?" Kitt felt a queer tightness in her chest. It was tempting to lay her burdens on Alex's broad shoulders. But self-reliance was so ingrained, she did not know how. "You can help me to my feet," she said at last. Even that was a concession, whether he recognized it or not. He put his hands under her arms from behind and lifted her as easily as a feather. "Can you stand by yourself?" She tried putting weight on her left leg, but the pain was excruciating. "I dinna think so," she admitted. He swept her up into his arms. "And dinna tell me not to be carrying you to safety!" he snapped. She felt small and very feminine in his arms. She put her arm around his neck to support her upper body, and felt the hair at his nape. So soft, for a man who was so hard everywhere else. "Do you have any idea where we're going?" she asked. "'Tis only a short way to the postern door, which leads down a path to the cliff above the sea. From there, we can make our way back to the cottage." "You've thought of everything," she said with a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Alex." She tried to keep from leaning her head against him, but after a while, she gave up and leaned her cheek against h...
