Meet Keely Gray and Ian MacPherson in Highland Magic. Travel their journey.
Highland
Magic
Christine
Young
Excerpt
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Book
Heat Level: 3
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Throughout
the Highlands she is known as Keely, the witch woman. She is a great healer-a
woman whose dreams come true. Ian MacPherson is a man who puts honor, loyalty
and duty above everything. Their lives are entwined when Ian is sent by the
Scottish King to bring Keely to trial for witchcraft. He is attacked and left
for dead, but Keely rescues him. When he wakes, he discovers he has no memory.
As he remembers his lost past, Ian finds that his need to protect the woman who
has saved his life eclipses his duty to his king and country., He is a man torn
between honor and duty to his country and the woman he loves.
Excerpt:
Scotland,
Summer 1513:
For
a moment the man's gaze met hers, bored into her heart, questioned. Blood
curdling war cries rode the wings of death through the timeless night. Claymores
clashed. Dark eyes the color of midnight flashed a challenge. The holy man's
opponents hesitated then lunged once more.
Moonbeams
reflected light from the gold chain he wore around his neck. Brown robes fell
from massive shoulders. Three more enemies appeared from the trees. The priest
fell to the ground, wounded by the broadside of his enemy's weapon. Motionless,
he lay on her flower-strewn meadow, blood staining the grass and wildflowers,
marring the colorful, summer landscape.
Keely
Gray woke, heart pounding a rapid staccato. She pressed against her throbbing
temples with sweat-slick palms, hoping to ease the horrific pain that always
accompanied the dreams. Death--the scent of blood, fear and treachery still
hung heavy in the darkened hut. The prickling sensation radiating from her
spine to encompass her body was too familiar.
She
listened and heard nothing.
A
dark void impaled her. The usual night sounds stilled. She heard no hoot of
owl, no chirp of crickets, no croak of frogs, nor could she hear the mournful
sighing of the wind through the branches of the old oak trees.
Silence
emptied her heart as well as her soul, leaving only an ever-present loneliness.
Keely
wanted nothing more than to cuddle into her bed and pull the covers over her
head. Despite the unspeakable agony deep in the pit of her stomach, she rose
from her pallet. Her limbs trembling, she slipped a shapeless tunic over her
head and soft-soled shoes onto her feet. As she swept past the front door, she
grabbed her woolen cloak.
Light
from a full moon illuminated the path. She could see, but she could also be
seen, the moonlight both a curse and a blessing. Approaching the meadow she'd
watched in her dreams, she slowed her pace and waited. Her fingers wound
tightly around the amber pendant she always wore, her only keepsake from her
mother.
The
sounds and scents hovering on the wind would tell her if danger still lurked.
Caution guided her. A vigilance she'd learned long ago held her motionless.
A familiar dragging sound reassured her she
wasn't alone. "Whipple?" she whispered.
A
self-appointed guardian angel appeared as if from nowhere then nodded, though
there was a wary cast to his faded blue eyes. "Aye, lass, I'm here. I
heard ye leave your hut. I would not leave ye alone to face whatever dangerous
mission awaited."
Keely
waited for Whipple to close the distance between them before she spoke. "I
would argue with you about your appearance here at this great hour, but I ken
it would do no good. You should not be here. Your heart--"
Whipple
spat. "My heart is fine."
She
determinedly stepped forward, approaching the meadow of her dream, knowing she
wouldn't like what she found.
"Have
it your way, then." Given a choice, Keely wouldn't have come to this
meadow. But she had to know the truth--had she seen the future or something
happening at that very moment?
Whipple
didn't reply. On his clubfoot, he followed her, his trailing leg sliding behind
him with a soft swish. The hard thud of his crooked oak cane followed at a
slightly skewed interval.
Together
they crested the hill. Below her, she saw her dream. A priest lay on the
ground, his head twisted at an odd angle. For a moment her heart stopped. She
bit down on her lower lip while she studied the man.
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