Page 47 of Stealing Sophie

If Connor MacPherson was angry and frustrated, it only served him right, she thought. Yet for a moment, she thought she might miss him, more than she wanted to admit. His mellow voice, his warm, safe hands, his satin-green eyes, his kisses. She did not know much about him—but she realized she had given a little of her heart to him.

Just one more reason, she thought, to run. The fairy legend that drove her to seek true love surely would not approve of a wayward and mistaken match with a brigand.

She touched the little pendant at her throat as she walked. The stone and its legend demanded that she settle for nothing less than extraordinary love, rare and true. Such was hard enough to find, and under such circumstances, surely not in the offing. But if she did not find that sort of love in her life, she might never fulfill her small but essential role in the Duncrieff legend.

When a MacCarran with the true fairy gift fell in love, the whole clan felt the benefit. Fortunes improved for all, and love and healing came their way. Though every MacCarran of Duncrieff had a trace of the fairy blood, so it was said, only a few had the gift. Sophie, therefore, felt a strong obligation to the legend and her clan.

But oh, Connor MacPherson—she breathed deeply, sighed on a half sob. Without the misunderstandings of last night, without the fairy curse—had none of that existed—she would choose to be with him. Feeling the want in that suddenly, keenly, she fought a powerful urge to turn back, to find him. A wild need rose in her to give passion a chance to grow, to discover if the feeling that pulled her to him could be love touched by magic.

But he did not want her. Years ago, she had made a stupid mistake misjudging love. She would rather go her entire life without love than repeat that. Already it might be too late.

Stumbling a little, she continued to run, picking up her skirts and hastening down a rough slope, hardly looking where she went. Tears blurred her sight. A feeling deep within told her to turn back for the ruined castle and its laird.

No, she told herself. Blinded by tears, she skimmed across the shoulder of a rock-studded hill. Dark pines thrust upward along the crest, blocking the diminishing light.

She nearly ran hard into the man who stepped out of the shadow of the trees.