Allura
Christine Young
achristay@aol.com
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
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Eddington, Scotland 1815
"You can’t plan to wed me to
that--that man down there!" Allura McClellan’s heart thundered and lodged
in her throat. Balled into fists her hands trembled. "You promised I could
marry for love. I thought when the last man failed to discover this imaginary
secret you think I have, you would stop this craziness. I thought you would
take the ad out of the Times and the other papers."
From the boxing ring below, fist met
flesh, the sound echoing throughout. Hunter Gray whirled and ducked. He guarded
his face to block the stinging blows his opponent rained down upon him. He spun
and ducked again. The man he fought countered the attack, but he did not move
fast enough. Hunter’s next jab was so fast and so hard the other man didn’t
block the punch. The man staggered backwards, blood running from his eye. Men
yelled and cheered for the two combatants. Hunter paused and spoke to the man
he practiced with before the match continued once more.
Allura saw her life as she had planned it
slip away as if it was grains of sand in an hour glass. She stopped pacing and
watched the men below. She turned on her father. "The ad in the
Times--giving me away to any man--you have gone too far. A marriage of
convenience is barbaric. You promised." For a moment, she closed her eyes.
She did not want to acknowledge anything that went on here. It was not her
fault she could not find a man she loved. What horrific bit of bad luck had
found her?
The laird cleared his throat.
"Perhaps I have not gone far enough or soon enough. And the ad did not
promise you to just any man. He must be strong enough and smart enough to win
your hand."
It was not Allura’s nature to allow
others to rule her fate. “These men,” she waved her hand in the air,
frustration sweeping recklessly within. "They don’t want me. They come for
one reason only. They are greedy and hungry for power. You have taught me
everything I need to know. I can run your estate and all of your holdings. I’ve
studied endless hours. I know the men who work for you. I swear I’ll defy your
wishes. At the altar I will say no."
The McClellan’s grin faded as quickly as
it had appeared and without further thought, he said, "Perhaps not, you
are beautiful lass--one with rare promise. And," he stroked his chin,
"no matter how much book learning a woman has she cannot dictate her own
life. It is up to the men in her life to make sure she is happy and provided
for."
A strained silence followed. She sagged
against the stone wall. As if sensing her vulnerable position, she stiffened.
Outraged and furious she looked upon her father. "They are money grubbers
and want your land--our land. They have no right to any of your estate."
The McClellan held back for a moment,
seemingly aware there was more than just a little truth in what Allura said.
"How indeed?" he questioned her. Yet his smile was tight, forced.
"I grow old. I only want this land secured and my daughters happy before I
die. You are twenty-two. I have given you ample opportunity to fall in love. I
thought it time to bring new blood to this land, a new man. I thought perhaps
one would take your fancy."
"That man," she began. Her hand
shook when she pointed at the man who danced and whirled avoiding each blow as
if he dallied in child's play. She trembled so violently she could not speak.
“Is an Englishman.”
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