My Monday is shaping up to be manic, so I will post this early and pin it later. 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/ An excerpt from Highland Revenge: He hadn’t gone terribly far when he caught a glimpse of white halfway up a massive oak. She was well hidden. Her plaid was dark green; he wouldn’t have noticed her among the leaves if he hadn’t been specifically looking for her. He strode closer to the tree, stopping once so he could look up through the branches. There, perched in the crotch of two thick limbs was a woman so perfectly beautiful she might have been part faery. He was left momentarily speechless. Her skin was fair, with a faint pink blush to her cheek. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but they were ringed with sooty lashes. Something told him that, regardless of their hue, they would sparkle. Her rosy lips were full and soft—lips that were made to be kissed. The late afternoon breeze ruffled the mass of black curls around her shoulders. Her léine was torn, but otherwise she appeared none the worse for wear. She is not a fairy, she is a MacNicol, he reminded himself. She looked down at him silently with her head cocked to one side, as if she was trying to solve some puzzle. She didn’t seem remotely frightened. That would have to change if he was to exact his revenge. “Have ye had a lovely day perched in yer tree, watching us search for ye?” “I suspect my day was better than yers.” Her impertinent answer irritated him. “Well ye’ve had yer bit of fun, but it’s over. Climb down.” She ignored him. “Who are ye?” “Yer captor, and I ordered ye to climb down. Do it now.” “Nay, I asked ye a perfectly reasonable question, and ye aren’t my captor if ye can’t reach me. Until I know who ye are, I think I’d just as soon stay free, even if I am up a tree.” “Free? Nay lass, ye’re as good as locked in my dungeon, and I promise ye will regret yer impertinence.” He called to one of his men. “Donald, it fair breaks my heart, but the MacNicol lass doesn’t wish to join our company.” “An arrow would bring her down quick enough.” “Aye it would, but ye heard her guardsman. This is Fiona MacNicol, Bhaltair’s niece. I wouldn’t want to harm a hair on her wee head.” Donald snorted. “Ye have no love for the MacNicols, and neither do I. Have ye forgotten? One of my older brothers rode with ye that night.” “Ye’re right, Donald. I have no love for the MacNicols, but the ransom this one will fetch will hurt Bhaltair’s greedy, black heart nearly as much as a steel blade thrust into it. Mark my words, we’ll have our revenge. We are leaving. Climb up, drag her down and bind her. She managed to evade us once and I won’t have it happen again. We have already wasted too much time on her.” He didn’t spare her another glance but called over his shoulder, “By the way, lass, I am Laird Eoin MacKay, and ye’re most assuredly my prisoner.”
Posted on: Mon, 13 Oct 2014 04:36:04 +0000
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