Isolda could not imagine her shame if he refused her. Yet she had pursued him as far as she dared. Every maidenly instinct screamed in protest at her boldness. But she was not the pampered daughter of a rich overlord any longer. Life in the forest had taught her self-reliance and daring, strengths she’d never known she possessed until she’d needed to hunt her own food. Build her own shelter. She’d sacrificed her pride, her refined manners and many worldly possessions already. Surely she could part with this one last remnant of her old self—her innocence—for the sake of her dreams? Her family legacy should not die with her. Cormac’s eyes darkened from tawny gold to rich amber, his gaze moving over her body with a thoroughness that both thrilled and frightened her. What have I done? She had never felt so vulnerable. Even in the dead of winter, she had not once been so exposed. Thinking she’d given her scheme long enough to work, she was about to retrieve her surcoat when he reached for her.
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