Across a Moonswept Moor

Across a Moonswept Moor by Julie Moffett

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Julie Moffett

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Middle Ages - 18th Century

by Julie Moffett
Love Spell
ISBN 0-505-52448-1
$5.50 U.S. / $6.50 Can. / $12.95 Aus.

A Love Match

An enchanted dagger bearing a mysteriously familiar inscription pointed Fiona Chancellor to Ireland in search of her missing cousin. Then a midnight visit to Celtic holy ground slid her into the seventeenth-century - and into the arms of the most gorgeous male she had ever seen. But after one clash with the stubborn man, Fiona longed only for her twentieth-century comforts.

Instead she found herself pressed against Ian Maclaren, galloping across moonswept moors to escape death. The hot-blooded barbarian ordered her about as it she were a soldier. But his kisses left no doubt he thought of her as a woman, and soon she knew she would trade a thousand bubble baths for one of his sensual massages and give up chocolate to melt in one of his passionate embraces. For although she had traveled across three centuries into the past, it had taken only a moment for her heart to recognize she had met her match.

Across a Moonswept Moor


    A Promise To Keep

"You don't know the first thing about me."
    Ian straightened, crossing his thick arms casually against his chest. "Aye, but sometimes it takes but a moment for two people to know they are right for each other."
    Fiona flushed bright red and hated herself for it. "You bloody well flatter yourself, Scotsman, it you are referring to me and you. I don't even like you."
    "Ye dinna like me? Then mayhap those weren't your verra soft lips brushing my cheek. And certainly those weren't your arms winding their way around my neck."
    "Maybe I was thinking about strangling you."
    He laughed, his teeth flashing white. "Or mayhap ye canna resist my Scots' charm."
    "God save me from arrogant men," Fiona snapped, rolling her eyes. Lifting her skirts haughtily, she started up the embankment away from him. Without warning, he grabbed her arm from behind. With one hard pull, he drew her to him, holding her tight against his chest.
    "Ye were right when ye said I dinna know much about ye, Fiona Chancellor," he said, his face inches from hers. "But when we finally are together, 'twill be my terms, no' yours."
    Fiona clenched her teeth together. "There won't be any 'together.' I'm here to help my cousin and that's all, Mister Maclaren."
    "The name's Ian," he said with an infuriatingly calm smile. "And we will be together, lass, ye can mark my words on it."
    Fiona's pulse skyrocketed. His words held a promise that she knew he could keep - and God help her, she wanted him to keep.

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