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Munro was a great man. She’d always believed that and hadn’t altered her views now.
    She gazed down to see that part of his kilt had separated, exposing his thigh. Her eyes boldly roamed over his body, and she had a strong urge to reach out and touch him again. He was hard, firm. She also remembered that from being crushed in his embrace. Oh, yes. His body was solid as a rock. She closed her eyes for a moment. What was wrong with her? She felt as if she’d lost her mind.
    Elizabeth stood, pausing when she became light-headed. “Pray excuse me, everyone. I’ll be retiring now.” She felt Ravenna’s eyes studying her, passing judgment, but Elizabeth wasn’t about to sit next to Ian any longer without having any wits about her. As she made her way out of the great hall, unsteady on her feet, Ruairi grunted.
    â€œYe’ve gone and done it now, Munro. I do believe my sister-in-law is in her cups.”
    Elizabeth knew better than to acknowledge the truth of that matter. She made her way to the study when she more than likely should’ve gone to bed. As she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath.
    The room smelled of leather and wood, reminding her of her father. She smiled when the bright sunlight came through the window and reflected from the blades of his eight daggers that hung on the wall. She took that as a sign that her father was still watching over her. As she ran the tips of her fingers along the spine of the leather-bound journals on the shelf, she realized his influence was the reason that she could be found in the library more often than not.
    His desk sat in front of a large window, and she rubbed her hand over the smooth, wooden surface. She sat in his chair, wondering how many times her father and Uncle Walter had met within these walls. A memory came to mind of being scolded with her sisters in this very room. In those days, Grace and Ravenna had been in trouble most of the time. Fortunately for Elizabeth and Kat, they had been too young to get into the kind of mischief that their sisters had. Then again, Grace was always causing enough trouble for them all.
    Ian was right. His “water of life” had dulled her senses. The pain she felt hadn’t entirely disappeared, but it was bearable. She laid her head back on the chair, trying to clear the haze. She’d close her eyes if only for a brief time.
    â€œWake up!”
    Elizabeth was jolted awake and placed her hand over her racing heart. “What is it?” She rubbed her hands over her face. “For heaven’s sake, what’s the matter with you?”
    â€œWhat’s the matter with me ?” Grace placed her hands on her hips. “You’ve been in here for most of the night. Time to seek your bed, Sister.”
    â€œDo ye want me to carry her?” asked Fagan.
    Elizabeth hadn’t noticed her brother-in-law, and she stood. “There’s no need to carry me, Fagan. I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own accord.”
    â€œAre ye sure about that, lass?”
    â€œI assume you do remember how to find your chamber,” said Grace in a clipped tone.
    Elizabeth stumbled to the door. “I only grew up in this house,” she said under her breath.
    She climbed the darkened stairs. Even though she wasn’t sure of the time of night, she supposed everyone else had sought their beds. Making her way down the hall to her bedchamber, she passed the family portraits that hung on the wall. She could feel her father’s gaze upon her and briefly pondered what he would’ve thought about all the Highlanders sleeping under his roof.
    Hearing the soft click of a latch, she stopped. A door opened, and Ian emerged from his chamber. The way the candle was flickering from his room made him look ethereal, unreal in the dim light. His long, red hair was tangled, and his tunic was half pulled out of his kilt. His feet were bare, and she almost chuckled at his