Good morning to you all! I am very excited to share a taste of A Jewel in the Vaults.... Picture it...Edinburgh...1802... “What is it ye wish of me?” she said as she held his gaze. “Ye dunnae speak like someone born in Cowgate,” he said as those crisp blue eyes scrutinized the length of her from head to toe. The setting sun slanted though the window, alighting upon his face, making the blue of his eyes glow like the jewels adorning the dresses in the shops that lined Prince’s Street. He smiled at her now, and it took her breath away. Even white teeth gleamed at her. She had to look away. Gazing upon his bright, clean face was like staring at the sun for too long. She pretended to adjust the frayed ends of her breeches over her knees as she stammered out an answer to his comment. “I’ve lived my whole miserable life in Cowgate.” “Nay, lad. Dunnae lie to me. I may, indeed, be from the Highlands, but I am not as daft as ye might like to believe,” he replied as he moved closer to Robbie and took a seat on the bed across from her. Robbie met his gaze once more, expecting to see anger or at least frustration, but instead the blue eyes looked at her with curiosity and, if she were not mistaken, kindness. Kindness was in low supply in Cowgate. Robbie was not quick to believe what she saw, but she did give the strange man sitting before her an honest answer. “My mother was French. She was not a reputable woman, but she was fine and educated. She taught me to read as well.” The large man nodded his approval and then slouched back on the bed, resting his weight on his elbows. “Me name is Conall Mackay. As you’ve guessed, I’m from the north, although ye may find yourself surprised by just how far north I’m from. Cape Wrath is me home, and me croft sits on the tip of that. ‘Tis as north as one can travel without a boat. I watch the green earth slope into the sea and the rest of Scotland lies behind me.” He closed his eyes, and pleasure softened the masculine ridges of his face. His words made her think of her mother who had often told stories of the French countryside. Just as Robbie had not been able to picture the thick French forests or shimmering lakes, she also could not imagine what Conall saw in his mind’s eye, but she recognized the peace it brought him. How she longed for peace. She waited for him to continue, wishing to hear more of the sea and sloping earth, but instead he remained quiet, his eyes never leaving hers. She gripped the seat to keep from squirming beneath his steady gaze. “Do ye sleep on the streets or in a lodgin’ house?” “Nay,” she snapped as her eyes narrowed. “I have my own room in the tenements. ‘Tis not fine like this, but ‘tis mine alone.” “Ye have no other family then?” he asked. She shook her head, “Nay, I have no one.” She sat up straighter as she spoke, trying to make herself look bigger and braver than she really was. Normally, she would have lied and made up a pack of bloodthirsty brothers who would certainly miss the runt of the litter were she to go missing, but this strange man brought only truth to her lips. She blamed his fine eyes. How could she lie to eyes as clean and honest as a cloudless sky? She looked down at her hands black with dirt and clenched them in frustration. How she wished they were white and fair like the lasses’ hands on Queen’s Street. The woman that she was, hidden by soot and breeches, longed to burst free from the confines of her bindings, to leave the ruse behind, and the man before her with his strange allure fueled that desire. Despite her outer display of indifference, Conall Mackay made her heart race. Dont forget our great rafflecopter! We are giving away a $25 Amazon gift card, bundles of books and copies of the Scrolls of Cridhe on release! rafflecopter/rafl/display/9efe05bc9/
Posted on: Tue, 14 Oct 2014 12:47:03 +0000
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