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By Emma Holly

Within the Scottish wooden, a extended family of immortal shape-shifting wolves takes in an orphan woman, Gillian, as considered one of their very own. but if she matures right into a appealing lady and falls for an insignificant mortal, her woodland kinfolk and new lover are plunged right into a fiery, passionate fight to say Gillian's middle, physique, and soul...

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Clouds piled atop one another on the horizon, their bottoms black as ash, their tops a radiant white in the waxing moon. A shiver of pleasure moved through her veins. This, she thought, was a setting for adventure. Unable to resist, she picked her way down the rocky beach. At the edge of the water she dropped her sack, removed her boots, and ran knee deep into the foamy surf. The water was so cold it stole even her breath. Laughing softly, she splashed the nearest spume. "Hello, sea," she whispered, and tried not to mind that it could not answer.

Her son, whom she had not Emma Holly Cacthing Midnight Page 48 greeted nor even glanced at, stood at his hip, along with a man sworn to honor both her husband and her God. Aimery tried to think of some way to discourage her that would not sound churlish. Before he could, Claris pressed one pale pink finger to the cleft that marked his chin. Whatever tease she meant to utter was lost in a sudden cacking, flapping fury from the falcon he held on his arm. Apparently, the fit of Princess's hood was worse than he thought.

He murmured, stroking the sleek brown feathers of her breast. Strange. He could have sworn she had more down this morning. Roused by his voice, Princess ruffled her wings. Aimery reached for his satchel of tools, then shook his head. Generations of falconers had trained their charges by the method he had used. Was he going to go against their experience for a dream? Sighing, he drew his smallest blade from its leather loop. Ridiculous or not, perhaps it was time someone tried a different way.

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