The Quest. Lyn Stone

      The sight of his muscles shining with sweat shot a hot tingle of appreciation right down the middle of her

      For an instant she could not tear her gaze away.

      His soft chuckle warned her that he had noticed her fascination. Iana immediately shut her eyes, cursing herself for her wayward thoughts. She ignored his offer of assistance.

      When she dared to look again, he had retreated to the edge of the water and begun wading in, his back to her. With a will of their own, her eyes immediately focused upon his uncovered nether cheeks. “Och, my sweet lord,” she breathed in absolute awe.

      “Oui?” He looked over his left shoulder and raised one dark brow. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”

      What is it? he asks. Iana scoffed. Lust is what it was. Pure, unadulterated lust. And she should be ashamed of herself…!

      Acclaim for Lyn Stone’s recent titles

      The Highland Wife

      “…laced with lovable characters, witty dialogue, humor and poignancy, this is a tale to savor.”

      —Romantic Times Magazine

      Bride of Trouville

      “I could not stop reading this one…Don’t miss this winner!”

      —Affaire de Coeur

      The Knight’s Bride

      “Stone has done herself proud with this delightful story…a cast of endearing characters and a fresh, innovative plot.”

      —Publishers Weekly

      #587 THE PRISONER BRIDE

      Susan Spencer Paul

      #589 THE MAIL-ORDER BRIDES

      Bronwyn Williams

      #590 SARA AND THE ROGUE

      DeLoras Scott

      The Quest

      Lyn Stone

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Available from Harlequin Historicals and

      LYN STONE

      The Wicked Truth #358

      The Arrangement #389

      The Wilder Wedding #413

      The Knight’s Bride #445

      Bride of Trouville #467

      One Christmas Night #487

      “Ian’s Gift”

      My Lady’s Choice #511

      The Highland Wife #551

      The Quest #588

      Other works include:

      Silhouette Intimate Moments

      Beauty and the Badge #952

      Live-In Lover #1055

      This book is dedicated to those independent “Cato Girls,” Louise Pope, Mary Dunlap and Ruth Mimms, my mom and my aunts. Also to the heroic “Cato boys,” Earl, Green and Walt.

      Equally as dear and deserving are my dad, Harlen Perkins, my stepfather, Preston Pope, and my uncles and aunts by marriage, Raiford Dunlap, Calvin Mimms, Corinne, Alice and Jolene Cato.

      I thank you all for the invaluable lessons you have taught me through advice and example. How else would I have recognized love when I found it?

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Epilogue

      Chapter One

      West coast of Scotland, 1340

      The taste of his first defeat grew no less bitter with his arrival on these shores, thought Henri Gillet as he climbed out of the disreputable vessel they had commandeered. He dragged his long legs through the sucking, thigh-deep waves. “Pay the man, Ev,” he called out over his shoulder.

      The squire tossed a small pouch of coins at the disgruntled fisherman and then struggled through the bitterly cold surf to where Henri waited on the deserted, rock-strewn shore.

      “Where are we, sir?” the lad asked while he shook himself off and shivered. Though Everand strove hard to erase the trepidation from his voice, Henri knew he surely must fear what was to come. Truth told, he feared it himself, though not for the same reasons.

      He needed to reach safe haven so that the boy would have a chance at survival. At the moment, Henri was not certain he could manage that. His own chances were meager at best. Doggedly he placed one foot before the other and steeled himself against the grinding pain. The bleeding wound just below his ribs ached less than the hurt in his heart. He had lost everything.

      If he died, he must account to God. And if he lived, he must face his father. In his mind, there was little difference. Not that he expected harshness in either case, for both had treated him benevolently thus far and would again. And that would be far worse than any punishment they might inflict. A bitter brew, indeed, was defeat.

      He had not caused it. In fact, he had done all within his power to prevent it. And yet, he still felt accountable, responsible somehow for losing what had been entrusted to him. The lives of those who had followed him when he’d been called to war were forfeit. All gone. All drowned, save young Everand.

      “I know this land.