““Exercising willpower he didn’t know he had, Conall slipped from his place beside her in the makeshift bed. Donning clothes didn’t help. To distract himself, he fastened his kilt and laced his boots, the occasional glimpse of her bare body a temptation to shirk his duties for a moment longer, to worship at her feet and take the sweet core of her into his mouth again. He would soon. Once Maeval was dead, making love to his new mate would be his celebration dance.””
