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knew, but he wasn’t yet convinced that she wouldn’t become what he had learned women truly were.
    Still...he couldn’t stop thinking about Meg.
    Ronan propped a hip against the stone wall surrounding the cottage. The roof was in desperate need of repair, and the stack of wood for the fire only had a few logs left. As he catalogued what needed to be done, he took note of how Meg gave a treat to each child that sent them running around the yard with bright smiles and laughter.
    By the time Meg rejoined him, a serene smile was in place.
    “What?” she asked when she saw him staring.
    “You should have children of your own.”
    She licked her lips and brushed past him to continue on the road without responding.
    “Do you deny you want children?” he asked, unsure why it seemed so important to him.
    “Nay.”
    That one word held a wealth of meaning – fear, pain. But more than that, there was resignation.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
     
    Meg was surprised Ronan joined her as she visited the sick tenants. She hated the way her body responded to him, loathed how she tried to brush against him in any effort to feel him. She was pathetic in her need to be near him, and yet she refused to send him away.
    As if he would do what she wanted. Ronan was stubborn and thick headed. He would do whatever it was he wished. She was thrilled that for the moment she was some kind of fascination for him. It wouldn’t last, which was why she would soak it up now. 
    Her arm heated where she knew his gaze landed. The heat traveled to her neck, and then to her chest. Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened. Just knowing he was watching her made her heartbeat accelerate.
    “Where are the parents from the last cottage we visited?” he asked.
    Meg swallowed twice, trying to get moisture back to her mouth. She was grateful for the change of subject. She didn’t want to think about her life without a husband or children. All she had ever wanted was a family of her own to cherish. 
    “Their mother died last winter trying to bring another babe into the world. The babe didn’t make it either. The father was desolate after his wife died, which is understandable. He spent his nights drinking away his pain. It caused him to fall and break his ankle when he was trying to bring in some sheep.”
    “How long until he gets back on his feet?”
    Meg gave a little shrug. “A few more weeks. I know there is a young girl from a neighboring cottage that comes over when she can to cook and look after the young ones.”
    Ronan nodded as he listened, his gaze intent upon the road before them.
    She darted her gaze to him. He might be willing to do common work, but there was nothing common about Ronan. He stood straight and powerful, commanding and forceful. It was obvious that he was used to being in control.
    “Who were you?” Meg asked. “Before the curse. What did you do?”
    He laughed and glanced at her. “I did what any good Highlander does, lass. I fought my enemies and protected my clan.”
    “But who were you? You walk like a man used to being in charge, a man who made his own rules.”
    “That’s because I did.” He gave her a crooked smile to ease the harshness of his words.
    Meg was more curious than ever. She didn’t recognize the tartan he wore, but clans would subtly change their plaids for reasons like banishments, marriages, and such.
    She watched Ronan out of the corner of her eye. There was no denying his confidence, his air of authority. No man, not even a Highlander, got that without being born into it.
    “You were no crofter’s son,” Meg said. “You were son to the laird.”
    If she hadn’t been looking for any reaction, Meg would have missed the slight tightening of his muscles.
    “A good guess, but no’ quite true.”
    “It makes sense,” she stated.
    Ronan pierced her with his pale green eyes. “So it would seem.”
    “Why do you want to hide that fact?”
    “I