Murdoch had told her the truth. Isabella laid beneath him, running her fingers through his hair as he slumbered against her. His face was buried against her neck, his breath soft on her throat, his seed warm inside her. Even as he dozed, he still braced his weight above her.
Protecting her.
Even from himself.
Isabella closed her eyes and hoped that Murdoch’s seed took root within her. She would be glad to bear his child, but she would be more glad to bear that child with him by her side. She could not lose him, not now. It would be unjust to find such a treasure as the magic between them, only to have it stolen away.
Still there was the matter of the Elphine Queen. Isabella bit her lip as she recalled that gruesome orb.
It seemed that the wind outside the cottage grew in intensity, as
