Passion
Highland
Brides of Skye Book 1
by
Tarah Scott and April Holthaus
Genre:
Historical Romance
Over
the years, many lasses have found refuge in the Scottish Highland’s
Glenwood Abbey. But for three young ladies, sanctuary becomes
servitude, with master puppeteer Malcom Donald using them in his plan
to rule the Isle of Skye.
When
a return trip home from a clan meeting ends in a bloodbath, Laird
Caeleb MacLeod begins his search for the clansman who betrayed them.
Little does he know he need look no further than his bed.
As
the housekeeper for Laird Caeleb MacLeod, Gwendolyn is in a position
to learn many things important to her master, Malcom Donald, captain
to the Donald laird. Now she must choose between destroying the man
she loves and saving the sister being held hostage by
Malcolm.
PREVIOUSLY
PUBLISHED AS TREASURES OF SKYE
Goodreads
* Amazon
Caeleb climbed the three flights of stairs to his chambers, his legs heavy, as if he slogged through calf-high mud. He opened the door and paused at sight of the low-burning fire in the hearth. He couldn’t help a tired smile. How many days had the fire been maintained in anticipation of his return? With a sigh, he closed the door and unbuckled his leather armor as he crossed to the bench before the hearth. Caeleb sloughed the armor from his shoulders and laid it on the bench. He removed his gambeson, tossed it onto a nearby chair, then sat on the bench and removed his boots. An acrid smell wafted up. He grimaced before realizing the smell was him. Caeleb lifted a shoulder, sniffed his plaid, then choked at the stench. His clothing smelled worse than a wet dog. He pulled his sash off his shoulder. As he dragged his tunic over his head, a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” he called, and tossed the shirt onto the floor.
The door swung open and Gwendolyn entered, followed by two young lads carrying a large, round, wooden tub. “Set it near the hearth,” she ordered.
The two lads placed the heavy tub near the hearth. Gwendolyn waited near the door, arms folded under her breasts, as additional lads carried in buckets of hot water and filled the tub. Once the tub was full, and a table was set nearby with a dish of soap and a drying cloth, she dismissed the lads.
One boy paused in the doorway. “Do ye need more wood for the fire?”
She shook her head. “Nae.”
He nodded, then hurried from the room.
“Stay, Gwen,” Caeleb said as he began unbuckling his belt.
The door clicked shut. Caeleb stripped off his breacan, then tossed it aside and stepped into the steaming water. No sound came from behind him, but he felt Gwen watching. He wetted his hair, then scooped a piece of the soft soap from the dish on the table and lathered the tangled mass. He ducked beneath the water. Warmth engulfed him. Eyes closed, Caeleb gave in to the weightlessness. Spending the extra coin to have the large tub built was one of the wisest choices he’d ever made. Unlike the decision to travel so near a valley that became a trap, forcing them into a life-or-death battle he’d had no intentions of fighting.
His lungs began to tighten with the lack of air. Caeleb rubbed the soap from his hair and lifted his head from the water. He raked hair from his face, draped his arms over the side of the tub, and waited.
A long moment of silence passed. “Come scrub my back, Gwen,” he said.
The faint rustle of skirts followed. He sensed her nearness an instant before she stretched an arm past him to the soap dish. Her fingers touched his shoulder and he allowed his head to fall forward as she washed his back. Stroke after stroke, his muscles relaxed beneath her familiar touch. His mind, however, replayed the memory of the sea of men bearing down upon them.
Two years ago, he had been a young laird of twenty-three, newly arrived in Dunvegan to replace his uncle as laird. Though the title wasn’t intended to be his, the clan welcomed him as their new chief. Where had his leadership been on his mission of peace…or when they’d been attacked?
War strips a man to his core. Tests his strength, his courage and his will. When confronted by a sea of hostile faces, a man’s humanity no longer exists. He reacts on instinct. Like an animal. A savage. That is what their enemies had made of them. Now, Caeleb simply wished to never again step foot on another battlefield. But that wish was not to be. Not until he put to rights their betrayal.
Gwen sighed. The soft sound drew him back to the present. He’d thought of her every day he’d been away. The knowledge that she awaited his return had given him strength when his muscles burned with exhaustion from wielding his sword. For the first time in his life, he loved a woman. He wouldn’t let the Donald dogs take his life, not when he had a chance to love a woman like Gwen.
Her hand slid lower. His bollocks tightened. Did she need him as much as he needed her? Her fingers stroked. His cock began to rise. He’d been away from home too long.
Caeleb slid down into the water to his shoulders, scrubbed the soap from his arms and back, then stood. Water cascaded off his body. He grabbed the drying cloth from the table, rubbed the dripping water from his hair, then stepped from the tub and faced Gwen.
She still knelt. As she did when uncertain, she nibbled her bottom lip. Caeleb rubbed the cloth over his chest. Her eyes followed the action. His heart began to pound. He tossed aside the cloth, then grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. She threw her arms around his neck and he crushed her mouth beneath his. Caeleb reached behind her and yanked free the apron tie, then broke the kiss and made quick work of her dress.
The garment pooled at her feet and she stood in her chemise. She pulled the sleeves down her arms and shimmied out of the garment. His cock further hardened. He swung her into his arms, carried her to the bed and fell with her onto the mattress.
Redemption
Highland
Brides of Skye Book 2
For
years, master thief Helena Donald has lived at Glenwood Abbey and
submitted to Malcolm Donald’s bidding. Desperate to break free of
his control, Helena agrees to steal the MacLeod Faire Flag for
Malcolm for she intends to sell the flag and start a new life far
from Malcom. When Helena is caught in a blizzard, she prefers to die
in the cold wasteland rather than return to the abbey.
Kaden
MacLeod has chosen a solitary life in a cabin on the shore of Loch
Haven. But a woman’s scream during a raging snowstorm sends him
racing to rescue Helena from the frigid waters of the frozen loch.
When he learns that this beautiful young woman is about to commit the
same crime for which his father, Laird MacLeod, hung Kaden’s
younger brother, he’ll stop at nothing to prevent her from facing a
similar fate.
Goodreads
* Amazon
Kaden pulled aside the fur curtain and gazed out the window of the croft. Yesterday’s storm, which had left them covered in snow, had begun again. Tall drifts had accumulated in spots around the small croft. Just his good fortune. The snowfall was the worst he recalled in his lifetime. After being gone for two years, what had induced him to return?
He knew the answer. The ambush of his clansmen four months ago by the Donalds.
But the men were no longer his men. His cousin Caeleb had taken Kaden’s place as leader of the MacLeod clan two years ago. Which is why returning had been foolish. He was no longer a member of the MacLeod clan—much less their leader. Never again would he stand with the men he’d grown up with or fight alongside them. Especially those who’d died at the hands of the Donald dogs.
Anger flared, as it did too easily these days. Had Jacob MacKinnon betrayed them to the Donalds? Did Caeleb suspect the MacKinnon? Why hadn’t Caeleb retaliated? The questions bounced off the inside of Kaden’s skull. So many questions and too few answers. None of it was his business anymore. He’d given up the right to demand answers the day he’d betrayed his brother.
Curse his father for hanging his youngest son, Kaden’s only brother. Curse this damn feud that had embroiled the clans of Skye for an entire generation. And curse this bloody storm. Once the story ended, he would leave. Isn’t that what he did best? Leave, when things became difficult?
A fierce down-draft blasted through the chimney, causing the fire to dance wildly on the logs. Kaden released the curtain and turned back toward the room. His gaze caught on the sparse stack of logs stacked in the corner. The wood wouldn’t last the night.
Kaden grabbed his boots from near the hearth and sat on the bench. He laced them, donned his fur, then piled on more fur to cover his head and neck. Like a large beastly bear, he pushed open the door and stepped outside.
He waded through knee-high snow around the building to the shed in the back. He pulled the cart from within the shed, then slung the rope over his shoulder and continued toward the trees. Thankfully, his brother had long ago replaced the cart’s wheels with wooden slats.
With care, Kaden kept between the frozen shore of Loch Haven and tree line of the forest as he pulled the cart to where he’d stacked a load of wood. The remaining wood in the cottage was the last of that which he’d stacked near the shed. He reached a tall, snow-covered mound and dug through to the logs, then filled the cart. At last, the cart full, Kaden grabbed the rope and began to retrace his steps. His teeth chattered, and his nose had long ago turned numb. A rumble, then a woman’s shriek broke the eerie silence. Kaden stopped. A woman? Out here? Impossible. Another scream was followed by a loud splash of water.
Kaden dropped the rope, then ploughed through the snow like a battering ram against the knee-high wall of snow between him and the loch. An instant later, he spotted the break in the white surface of the snow-covered loch. His heart lurched. It might already be too late.
He halted at the cluster of saplings that marked the water’s edge, dropped to his knees, then onto his belly. Snow collapsed in around him. He fanned his hands out around him, as if swimming, and shoved aside the snow as he wiggled onto the ice. Twice, he looked up over the snow to ensure he was on course, snorting out snow when it filled his nose.
The snow abruptly opened up to the break and he thought for one horrible instant he would slide into the dark water. He threw his hand out and caught his palm on the edge of the broken ice. His legs swung to the side, but then halted. Kaden plunged his arm into the frigid water. Cold pierced bone-deep. His fingers closed around an arm. He dragged the woman up onto the ice and shimmied back toward the shore. God’s Teeth, her soaked fur cloak and thick skirts made her weigh as much as an ox. They reached the shore and he dragged her off the ice, his breath coming in labored gasps.
Kaden shoved onto his knees and was startled when he glimpsed the woman’s curves. When he’d grasped her thin arm, he thought her a young girl. He pressed two fingers to the pulse point at the neck and cursed. No heartbeat. He placed an ear against her chest. Through the thick fabric of her bodice, a faint heartbeat thumped against his ear. He whipped off his coat and quickly wrapped her in the coat. Stinging cold whipped across the exposed flesh of his neck. He lifted her limp body in his arms and started back toward the croft. By the time he reached the cottage he was shivering.
He unclasped her cloak and let it drop to the floor, then hoisted her over his shoulder and threw back the blankets. Kaden started to lay her on the bed, then stopped. Her dress would soak the blankets. He had to remove the dress. Kaden hesitated, then shook off his worry. Her anger was preferable to her death. He slid her down into his arms, sat on the bed, then fumbled with the laces of her bodice. He cursed. His large fingers couldn’t grasp the tiny, wet knots. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and cut the tight lacing. Her bodice expanded. He slid the knife back into its sheath, shimmied the skirt up her thighs then, careful to keep his gaze on her face, dragged the dress up and over her head.
Eyes tightly closed, he grimaced at the press of her soft flesh against his fingers and cursed the pulse of his cock as he twisted and laid her on the bed. Kaden opened his eyes, glimpsed creamy white breasts in the instant before he yanked the blanket over her. Quickly, he covered her with several more blankets, then shed his furs and added enough logs to the fire that the room would soon be as warm as a midsummer’s day. He draped her dress and cloak across the bench near the hearth, then returned to the bed.
Her eyes remained closed. With a feathery touch, Kaden swept her long copper-colored hair from her face, then touched her cheek. Still too cold for his liking, and she’d begun to shiver. She shifted and her arm slipped from the bed and dangled over the side. Kaden grasped her wrist and noticed several dark purple and blue bruises along her forearm. Checking her other arm, he found the flesh also marred with bruises. He made a tight fist and noted how his fingers were aligned. Glancing back at the bruises, there was no doubt the bruises were made by a man’s fist. Anger shot through him. Only the worse sort of whoreson hit women. Maybe that man was the reason she’d been alone and on foot in a snowstorm. That took courage. Or desperation.
Kaden gently tucked both arms beneath the blanket, then rose and pulled sage and honey from a cupboard. He filled a small cauldron with water, then set it on the table. He retrieved his mother’s journal from the night table and settled in front of the fire.
As the night wore on, his eyes grew heavy, but he forced himself to stay awake and checked on the lass twice before his gaze caught on the stack of wood. He sighed. He’d left the cart full of wood on the path.
Deception
Highland
Brides of Skye Book 3
Betrothed
to Lady Allison, the granddaughter of the dying MacKenzie laird,
Jacob MacKinnon stands ready to do his duty and unite their two
clans. But enemies watch, and plan to prevent the uniting of those
two powers.
After
an attack on his betrothed’s carriage leaves only Lady Allison
alive, Jacob is determined to find her would-be killers.
Linnae
Donald is a lowly serving girl. How is she supposed to tell Laird
MacKenzie that the granddaughter he’s mistaken her for died when
their carriage was attacked?
She
can’t break a dying man’s heart. Neither can she do what Jacob
MacKinnon asks and help him prevent a war by pretending to be Lady
Alison…and marrying him.
Linnae understood what passed between a man and a woman. She just wasn’t certain she was ready for it to pass between her and Jacob.
The women had stripped her, washed her, and put her between warm sheets naked. She lay, the covers clutched to her neck, and eventually began to sweat in the warm room. How long before Jacob would come? She knew wedding celebrations could last into the wee hours of the night. Twice, she nodded off and jarred awake at sounds she believed she’d imagined.
A shout caused her to jump. More shouts followed, mingled with laughter. The men approached.
Would they all burst into the room?
Would they insist upon witnessing the consummation of the marriage?
She had heard of such happenings.
Linnae began to tremble. The voices grew closer. When they reached the door, she scooted back and sat up against the headboard, the covers up over her shoulders.
The door burst open and she tensed at sight of a dozen rowdy men pushing through the doorway with Jacob in the lead.
He whirled and shouted, “Back, lads, or I will have you whipped, one and all.”
Raucous laughter followed, along with shouts of, “There she is,” and “She’s ready for you, Jacob,” and, “If he’s too drunk to satisfy ye, lass, I can take his place.”
Jacob shoved the two closest men and they fell back into the crowd. He slammed the door, threw his weight against the wood, and shoved the bolt into place.
The door groaned against the weight of the men and a myriad of shouts and threats ensued. Jacob turned, met her gaze, and grinned. “You must forgive them. They drank too much wine and ale.”
She nodded but could find no words.
His expression gentled. “I imagine the lasses left you in a state desirable to me, but perhaps not so desirable for you.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, a man will always delight in finding a beautiful naked woman in his bed. But the woman may not care to be that naked woman.”
“I am your wife. It is my duty to submit.”
He grimaced. “A woman--particularly a naked woman in a man’s bed--should not be there because she must submit.”
“But it is a wife’s duty,” she said.
“So the priests teach,” he said. “But, Linnae, do ye no’ think that mutual liking will make for better lovemaking?”
Lovemaking? Her stomach did a flip. She hadn’t thought of it in that light. How had she thought of it? As she’d said: duty.
“You’re clearly terrified,” he said.
“Terrified?” she blurted. “I am not terrified.”
“Lass, you are clutching that sheet as if ye expect me to eat you alive.”
That wasn’t far from the truth. But her pride was pricked and she threw back the sheet and leapt to her feet.
His brows shot up. ”Ye have nothing to prove, lass. You didnae expect to be married. I’m willing to give you time to adjust to your new state.”
Her cheeks flamed, but she said, “You promised me if we wed, it would be a real marriage—you swore before God and witnesses that I was your wife.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you challenging my word?”
Linnae lifted her chin. “I am.”
“A man can’t let such a challenge go unanswered.”
Best-selling
author Tarah
Scott
cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and
Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone
With the Wind as a close second. She writes modern classical romance,
and paranormal and romantic suspense. Tarah grew up in Texas and
currently resides in Westchester County, New York with her daughter.
April
Holthaus
is an Award-Winning Author for her Scottish Historical Romances. For
more than ten years, she has worked full time in the direct marketing
business, but developed a passion of historical romances through her
love of reading, history and genealogy. When she is not working or
writing, April loves to spend time with her family and traveling.
Follow
the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!
No comments:
Post a Comment