“Are ye all right, lass?” Caelen murmured, jarring her from her thoughts. His dark eyes held kindness as they swept her face, his forehead furrowed in concern. “Yvaine?” He shifted upon his feet, his tall stature a looming shadow as he leaned closer, and then he reached out a hand as though longing to touch her face.
Yvaine tensed, suddenly overcome by the realization that Caelen—Caelen MacCarmaig!—was standing right here in front of her. Caelen MacCarmaig from the legends of old with eyes the color of a deep sky, and hair as dark as night. The sight of him sent her pulse racing. His powerful frame, toned and tall, exuded strength, and yet shrouded in darkness, a certain air of mystery surrounded him. Always had he been her hero—he and Yvaine both—and now...