Title: Highland Series Boxed
Set
Author: Christine Young
ISBN: 978-1-62420-277-3
Genre: Historical Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
BLURB
Highland
Honor
Willfully
stubborn, innocently courageous, Callie Whitcomb braves a journey through the
treacherous highlands to the Macpherson castle. Callie flees from an unwanted
marriage as well as her ruthless half brother. Naively she believes Colin
MacPherson, the head of the clan, is loyal to her father and will give her
sanctuary, protecting her from the vile plans that have been made for her.
As hard
and as unyielding as the winter storms that sweep through the countryside,
Colin is irresistibly drawn to the impetuous beauty who has magically appeared
on his doorsteps. Despite his vows of revenge against her father, she stirs his
passion as well as his sense of justice...but to love her would violate all his
vows of revenge.
Highland
Magic
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.
Highland
Song
With her
white-gold hair and azure eyes, Lainie MacPherson is as wild and untamed as the
rugged Scottish Highlands where she was raised. Lainie vowed to avenge her
rape. Recklessly, she defies English laws and the man who raped her puts a
bounty on her head. The man who is sent to bring her to Edinburgh sets a
dangerous trap. With nothing left to live for the beautiful Scottish spy steals
the sealed documents the English soldier has tempted her with.
When the
exquisite temptress takes the bait and runs off with not only the forged
documents but the purses of the men in the tavern, Aaron Slade vows to hunt her
down and bring her to justice, never dreaming she will tame his jaded soul.
When Aaron discovers the truth about the tempestuous woman who stirs his
passion to the point of madness, he dares not love her, but desires her with
all his soul.
EXCERPT
Scotland November 1512
A heavy frost sat on the frozen earth, and a full moon shone clearly
between the heavy clouds dotting the sky. Lady Callie Whitcomb looked over her
shoulder as she raced through the deepening gloom toward the lighted tavern
ahead. Every shadow, every mournful sigh of the wind sweeping through the
trees, every chilling animal sound filled her with terror. Fear for her life
drove her to put all thoughts of danger aside. He would follow her, find her,
and drag her home.
Home.
"Don't think of that now," she reminded herself fiercely, even
while tears stung in the back of her throat and fear made her limbs tremble.
"Don't ye dare think of home. It no longer exists." Nothing and no
one could coax her back or make her believe there was naught but terror in the
home where she'd been born.
"I will never marry Lord Huntington. Never!" she whispered
fiercely, the chill night air solemnly echoing her words.
Her stepbrother, Archibald Covington III, made sure she could never
return.
"There ye be, lass! I've been waiting for you."
The voice rose from nowhere and surprised her. Her heart froze, lurched,
then began an erratic beat, while raw nerves snapped, sending a myriad of
sensations racing down her spine.
"Archibald--" she whispered, panic sweeping through her.
"He's found me." All she could hear was the pounding of blood in her
ears.
Before she could reach her destination, before she could find safe
refuge from him, his men had found her. No! Not now. Not when she thought she
had eluded them all.
A wave of fear sweeping through her reminded her, that if caught, she
would be taken back to Archibald and forced to marry Lord Huntington.
"I'll help you down, lass."
"No."
Before she could react and spur her horse forward, callous, rough hands
centered on her waist then pulled her from her mount.
"No!" She cried out to no avail. Regaining her wits, she beat
fiercely upon the man's broad chest, tearing at his face and his thick beard
with her fingers.
"Ach, lass! Hold still! I mean ye no harm. Stop this--" His
voice was gruff and impatient.
Fear for her life had spurred her haste. Terror she might see Huntington
or Archibald with each turn of the road haunted every hour of her journey.
Archibald had retainers everywhere. Messages would have been sent. A highlander
could be bought.
"Ruffian! Unhand me! Ye barbarous Scotsman."
If Archibald had guessed what path she followed...
"Verra well, ne'er let it be said that I dinna do a lass'
bidding." Just as suddenly as he'd grabbed her, his hold upon her
vanished. She stumbled backward.
Instantly, she found herself sitting on the frozen earth. The man
towering above her watched her with concerned dark eyes. Despite the scar
stretching from forehead to chin, his mouth quirked upward in a humorous slant.
"Ye be a handful, lass."
"Get away from me!" Confusion blindsided her. If this man had
anything to do with Archibald or Lord Huntington, he would have never let her
go. Yet she could take no chances.
His arms outstretched, his hands beckoning her to him, he smiled.
"Now calm down."
Crab-like, she scurried backwards. "I will not go with ye. I would
rather die." Despite her proper upbringing, she wanted to scream her
frustration and bellow with anger.
"Hawke is waiting for you, lass. There is no need for this panic.
He means you no harm." The man stepped forward, bending over her as if to
lift her from the ground.
"Hawke?" Callie did not want to meet Hawke. She sought Colin
MacPherson. She stood before the man could touch her again, quickly dusting the
dirt and leaves from her hands and moving sideways, ready to bolt. But the
giant moved quickly and lethally, his huge hand closing over her upper arm. He
pulled her along with him, heading toward the tavern.
"Aye, Hawke. You sound as if you've ne'er heard of the mon. Well, I
suppose 'tis good you dinna let on about your identity to just anyone. He waits
for you and the papers you were to bring with you."
To no avail, she dug in her heels. "I have no papers." Only
the letter her father had written before he died and that was meant for Colin
MacPherson, not some man named Hawke.
"'Tis all right, lass. You dinna need to tell me anything."
"No! It is not all right. I won't go with ye. I won't go
back."
"We've got her, Hawke."
"Aye, I see that you have." Laughter rang out from the shadows
of the tavern. "Bring the wee lass inside where we can talk."
"Nay, ye have no right." Callie stiffened, searching the
porch, every nerve strung taut. "I am not chattel ye can push here and
there."
Music, sounds of laughter, the scent of ale and peat smoke floated and
clung to the heavy night air. A man moved forward, silhouetted by the backlight
of the tavern.
"I have every right," he said, but he made no move to change
her situation or to tell his henchman to unhand her.
Struck by his size and with every nerve tightened, she inhaled a deep,
ragged breath. When he stepped into a pool of light, she nearly gasped aloud.
Moonlight gave his strong, well-chiseled features definition and there was a
strange, vulnerable expression on his face.
Oh, but he was tall and his hair was as black as the night and the
shadows surrounding him. His long, dark hair was pulled back and secured at his
nape with a leather strap, his muscles rippling with every movement. At his
side, he'd strapped a claymore, and a dirk was tucked into the top of his
knee-high stocking.
Behind her, Pansy moved uneasily then trotted off into the darkness.
"Pansy--"
"Dinna fret, lass. Hawke will send a mon after your pony."
"Hawke," Callie said his name aloud, returning her
consideration to the man on the porch. She sensed his attention bone-deep, and
her heart thundered, every instinct within calling out for her to flee. They
thought she was someone she wasn't. Sensations she'd never felt before swept
through her.
She'd always known Archibald was wicked, but if she hadn't seen his evil
with her own eyes, she would have never believed him capable of such horrific
deeds.
She didn't want to remember. In the dusk of the evening, she had been
where she wasn't supposed to be, retrieving a doll for Archibald's little
sister. She'd followed the doll as it rolled endlessly down the steep
embankment. Then she'd seen her stepbrother and the man she was supposed to
marry, Lord Huntington, killing a man, the dagger piercing the victim's heart.
The next day she had risen before dawn and packed one bag. With all her
money sewn into the hem of the dress she'd bought from one of her servants,
she'd donned her warmest cloak, saddled her mare, Pansy, and left the keep. No
one had stopped her or sounded an alarm. Callie had told no one about the
murder because she trusted no one. She'd been too terrified of the very walls
in the castle to tell anyone.
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