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hands fumbling at his own clothing, his fingers groping for the
    buttons that kept his breeches closed.
    "Aye, McGregor," he dimly heard her whisper. "Aye."
    He saw the spark of satisfaction in her eyes as they kissed, as he found the top button of his cords and
    popped the pearl stud through its opening. He strained against her, felt her hand slide down his shoulder,
    around his arm, over his thigh and go to the bulge in his breeches. Her fingers found him and molded their
    delicate flesh around him.
    "Um," she moaned against his lips and her tongue pushed his aside to probe deep within the recesses of
    his mouth.
    This is wrong, he thought. Horribly, evilly wrong! Yet even as the thought pricked at his conscience, he
    pressed her tighter to him in a fevered embrace that brought sweat to his underarms.
    "Conar, you should not be doing this," another voice broke through, louder than the pulsing of his heart
    pushing hot blood through his veins. "This is wrong, son."
    "Is this really what you want, my child?" a deep, grandfatherly voice sadly inquired. "What of your
    lady-wife?"
    From the mists of fever in his brain, he heard another voice, Liza’s, as clearly as though she was standing
    before him. "Will she take Conar away from me?"
    It was as though lightning had speared him.
    He jerked, stumbling away from the mysterious woman. He knocked her hands from him, put the width
    of the fountain between them and stood trembling, his breath ragged in his throat.
    "What’s wrong, my Prince?" she cooed, sliding off the fountain and moving toward him.
    He put up a hand and backed away. "I…I am taken."
    The woman turned her delicate head and looked at him from the sweep of her lashes. "Do you love
    her?"
    "With all my heart." He strove to get his racing pulse under control.
    "And yet your body aches for mine. Why is that, Conar McGregor?" Her gaze lingered on his crotch,
    where the evidence of his hot desire still leapt. She drifted toward him and he became aware for the first
    time that, where she walked, no footprint was left in the swirling snow.
    He locked his gaze with hers. "I don’t know who you are or what you are, woman, and I don’t care."
    As she glided toward him, a seductive smile on her lips, he shook his head in violent denial and put up a
    restraining hand. "Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer!"
    "You don’t trust yourself with me, do you?" she asked, her eyes flashing with triumph. "If I were to touch
    you again, my sweet Prince, you would be mine. Forever."
    He vehemently shook his head. "No. I would not!"
    "Are you willing to test what I tell you?" She moved closer and smiled when his back came up against
    the stone wall of the tool shed. "How can you be sure you do not want what I am offering?"
    Conar stumbled along the wall, tripped over dead shrubs, and crashed into a trellis before putting himself
    out of the woman’s reach. "I don’t want anything from you!"
    "Not even knowing I can pleasure you like no woman ever has or can again?" she whispered. Her gaze
    went to the still-lingering bulge at the junction of his thighs. "I can see you want me."
    "What you see belongs to Liza McGregor and Liza’s it will stay!" he shouted.
    Her smile vanished. "Not always, my Prince."
    "Aye, always!"
    Her delicate shoulders rose in a shrug. "As you will, but before I leave, if that is truly what you want me
    to do—"
    "Aye, I want no part of you!" His fear oozed in waves down his sides.
    "Then listen well, for the time of reckoning is closer than you know." She looked at the window above
    his head and smiled, then returned her gaze to his. "I will give you a riddle to solve."
    "I don’t want to hear any gods-be-damned riddle!"
    "Perhaps not, but remember it, for your life may well depend on it one day: Flesh of my flesh, blood of
    my blood, thrice the blow will come. Torn the flesh, shed the blood. Beware the source, my son."
    "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He felt a sudden terrible aching in his