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
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.
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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.
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.
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