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certainly exuded plenty of that. Creighton was the epitome of the expression “larger than life.” His appeal made her edgy, almost combative and yet needy at the same time. She did
not
do needy when it came to men.
    Creighton’s mesmerizing eyes were dark brown with golden flecks. The eyes of the bear glowed yellow. The sight had freaked her. She shook her head once and sipped at the water. Whatever … or whoever stood below her window had eyes that blazed golden in a furry or hairy face. The Scot’s eyebrows were dark and thick; thicker than she normally liked, but on his broad face, they didn’t look out of place. So, the question remained. Had she seen a bear or a massive man? She rubbed her fingers over her forehead and exhaled a bark of nervous laughter. Or did she simply need her glasses changed?
    She pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed. It
had
to be Creighton. Hadn’t he repeated the thoughts she heard the bear/beast/man think? As his internal dialogue played slow motion in her mind, her heart stuttered.
Oh my God. He was worried about keeping his hands off me. Is he thinking of hurting me?
Heat rushed through her, settling in her core.
Or somethingelse?
    The phone’s incessant ringing on her nightstand woke Paisley and she snatched the receiver before the noise woke Gram. “Hello?” A quick glance at the clock told her she’d been asleep for over an hour. Who would be calling so near midnight?
    “Paisley, I’m sorry to wake ye. It’s Creighton. I need yer assistance.” His breathing was heavy, as if he’d been running.
    She fumbled for her glasses and slipped them on. “What is it?” How could she possibly help him? The man seemed in control of everything.
    “Ye said ye studied veterinary science. I’m at the stables. One of our horses is trying to foal and something’s wrong. Normally I’d call me uncle Earnan, but the storm is raging too fierce for him to drive here at his age.”
    She shoved the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m on my way. Give me a couple minutes to dress.”
    “Thanks. I’ll meet ye at the bottom of the steps. Please hurry. She’s a maiden mare, so she’s especially skittish. She won’t let me near her.”
    Paisley tugged on jeans and the brown sweater she liked least. No doubt it would get ruined, since she didn’t have a protective jacket to wear. She shoved her feet into heavy socks and hiking boots, wishing she had her equipment bag with her. What things would she need to help the horse? Grabbing her down coat, she hurried for the stairway.
    She ran down the steps.
    Creighton waited. He wrapped a plaid blanket around her, tugging it over her head. “Ye will need this. The storm has worsened.” His face was reddened. Ice flecks stuck to his hair and eyebrows. He pressed his hand to the small of her back and hurried her through the castle, tension pulsing off him. “We’ll go out the kitchen door. ’Tis closest to the stables.”
    Her mind cataloged every step of an equestrian delivery, imagining every possible bad scenario. “I’ll need scissors in case I have to cut the sac around the foal.”
    “Everything ye need is there.” His broad forehead was furrowed and his full lips pinched.
    Fiona was in the kitchen, wearing a blue fleece robe and tightening the tops on two thermoses. “Here. Take these. If it’s a long night, ye’ll need coffee. Sweet child, thank ye for seeing to one of our horses. I’ll adjust yer bill as compensation.”
    “That’s not necessary. I can’t bear to see an animal suffer.”
    “Can ye hold the thermos bottles, Paisley?” Creighton opened the back door, tugged his hood over his head, and swept her into his arms. “Close the door behind us, Mum.”
    Before she could protest, he stepped through the doorway into the frigid tempest and the bitter winds all but stole her breath. Pellets of sleet blew nearly sideways with the strength of the squall. He rolled her toward him so her face was