Mads could have sworn the devil himself had sent the fiery bolts of Hell from his pitchfork right into her buttocks. No matter how much she begged and apologized, the relentless chastisement of his paddle-like hand continued. Tears spurted from her eyes and hoarse sobs burst from her throat as she struggled to endure his scalding displeasure. Finally, she gave up and collapsed over his lap, accepting that her fate would be to never sit again for a meal on a hard chair. He had obviously scarred her for life. She was so lost in abject misery that it took a few minutes to realize he’d stopped spanking and was now rubbing his palm gently over the backs of her legs and back up and over her bottom. In spite of the agony of contact from his palm, it did feel as if some of the burn was easing. “L-let me up, please?” she asked humbly, gasping for breath. Maybe she did owe him a real apology, and she was not one to shirk her duty. Although fierce in the face of injustice, she was just as determined to make corrections if she should find she was in the wrong. Besides, there was something about the way he was caressing her that was making her feel funny in her lower regions. The desire to moan with pleasure was replacing the sobs in her throat. This couldn’t be a good thing, even if they were in a fake engagement. She wondered if Snipes was hovering outside the door and if he’d tried to save her from her fate. Probably not. He’d think she deserved it. When she felt the dress sliding back down her hips and her body pulled up to sit on Josiah’s lap, she was relieved, although it confirmed her suspicions that she would never sit comfortably again. “I fear you have ruined my sitting ability forever,” she whispered throatily, huge tears glistening in her eyes and on her cheeks as she wiggled to find a softer spot. Alas, on his hard thigh, there wasn’t any. Josiah’s stern gaze softened, and a slow grin brought out the dimples in the corners of his mouth, causing her breath to catch. He brushed his thumbs slowly across her cheekbones, inspecting her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. “I fear, madam, that without your temperamental shenanigans and your pinching, you can be quite charming and amusing. Not to mention very beautiful. “His breath ghosted across her lips and the peaks of her breasts tingled as the leather vest pressed into her bosom. Yet he did not kiss her.
The third in my Revenge Series is now available. Enjoy, my friends!
The perfect fun and easy read by the fire on a cold winter’s day. Treat yourself to a delicious romantic sizzle. Available on Amazon and other fine retailershttps://books2read.com/u/bw7ppe…
P Moser: “Author, Brandy Golden really knows how to spin a tale, and the storyline is just wonderful. I really enjoyed every page of this book, and was sorry when I saw the words “The End”. “
Enjoy this excerpt :
Chessy Morgan grinned down at the man walking beneath her scaffold. He in turn glared up at her. She waved cheekily when he did an about face and continued on his way, his back ramrod stiff, the water droplets glistening on his black Brooks and Dunn suit jacket.
So much fun to aggravate the man.
There was just something about the set of his blond head and the natural dominant arrogance that he seemed to stride through life with that set her teeth on edge. At least through her life on the scaffold above the sidewalk where she spent three hours a day earning the insurance payment on her Volkswagen.
The Gods must have smiled on her three days ago. That was when he’d first walked under her scaffold, and she’d accidentally dripped her squeegee over the side of the scaffold from the next floor up. His arrogance had popped out immediately, directed right at her and her mistake.
“Hey! You up there! Pay attention to what you are doing! There are people down here you know!”
The irritable tones had slashed up at her through the crisp Boston air, causing her hackles to rise and goose bumps to break out on her skin. She peeped over the edge, her bright green eyes alight with mischief and curiosity, to see an irritated male face. The dark blond slashes of eyebrows were drawn together in an impatient scowl.
“You just dripped water on my new suit,” he told her in no uncertain terms, as if there wasn’t another store in the entire city of Boston that would carry another one.
“What a pity,” she mocked, her gamin grin registering exaggerated sorrow. “Sure and t’would be hard up you are if that’s the only suit you have to wear now, wouldn’t it?” She couldn’t resist her exaggerated Irish brogue.
It was obvious the man was anything but hard up and Chessy had disliked him on sight. People with money liked to throw their weight around. She liked nothing more than to prick their hot air balloons of pride and censure of their fellowman whenever she got the chance.
Today, the Gods had been merciful yet again. The same man was just walking away from her for the third day in a row—with a well-spattered suit. Life couldn’t get any better than this, she thought happily. Funny, even though he hadn’t said anything the last two days, she knew he was fuming. She shrugged her slender shoulders. She was at a loss as to why he kept coming back, and frankly, didn’t care. She had succeeded in aggravating the life out of him and she felt vindicated, although she would rather have gotten even with her skinflint grandfather. Since she couldn’t aggravate him, another man of wealth was the next best thing.
Chessy glanced down at her watch. It was almost noon. Time to close up for the day and meet Marsha, her best friend, at the Olive Garden for lunch. Whistling cheerfully, she lowered the scaffold and nimbly hopped off. It would be the end of the week before she finally got to the tenth floor, which was as high as the building went.
Working for Dunn’s window cleaners was interesting to say the least. She didn’t mind being up in the air at all and most certainly did not suffer from fear of heights. No, Chessy, short for Cheshire, was a Huntington, and Huntington’s knew no fear.
At least that’s what her spunky Irish grandfather had always told her.
She was even planning on making a parachute dive this summer, as soon as she could talk Marsha into going with her.
Quickly she jumped into her lime green Volkswagen beetle parked in the alley, and sped off, intent on making her lunch date. She totally missed the fact that she’d pulled out in front of a Lincoln town car.
Ty Anderson shook his blond head and watched the colorful vehicle disappear into traffic. The little Volkswagen began to weave in and out of the cars like a colorful butterfly flitting among the flowers.
It was that cheeky little window washer that kept dripping water on him each time he walked under the scaffold.
He supposed he could walk down the other side of the street, but he didn’t feel the need to go out of his way for a saucy little redheaded sprite with an attitude. He didn’t know why she seemed to have singled him out for her prankish gestures—he hadn’t noticed anyone else with water drops on their shoulders.
Not enough trips over a knee for a good paddling of her backside he supposed. Well, she’d better watch it if she knew what was good for her. If the right opportunity came up, he wouldn’t hesitate to flip her over his knee for a sound spanking!
Chessy had him dead to rights-until he kissed her!
When Cheshire Huntington realizes that Tyrone Anderson is the architect trying to get the old Odd Fellows Lodge in downtown Boston torn down, the fight is on. Chessy, as she is known to her friends, is a red-headed Irish sprite with a chip on her shoulder regarding wealthy people. The old lodge has memories for Chessy that she isn’t ready to let go of yet, and a health spa catering to the sinfully rich is a poor substitute for the historic building.
Tyrone Anderson isn’t about to let a cheeky little window washer who insists on dripping water on his new suit every morning from her scaffold get in the way of his new project. He’ll take the fight regarding the Odd Fellows Lodge to her if necessary. It doesn’t take Ty long to realize the little spitfire is hiding a painful secret. He wants to help her, but that’s easier said than done when she thwarts him at every turn until he’s ready to kiss her senseless or turn her over his knee!
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And for your reading pleasure, I have an oldie but goodie available for pre-order. This book hasn’t been available for years on the market! I’ve refurbished it and added a free chapter of my pirate story coming out in March at the end! It was originally published years ago as The Architect & the Window Washer.
Ty looked up and saw the incredulous face of the little window washer. She looked furious as she marched up right between the cars to face him from the other side of the car door.
“I was just…”
“You were trying to steal my stereo?” She faced him accusingly. A quick glance told her that her stereo was halfway out. “What are you? A kleptomaniac? Because you can’t be stealing for money.” She stared derisively at his expensive suit and watch.
“I was not stealing…”
“Don’t bother lying,” she scoffed, cutting him off again. “The evidence speaks for itself.”
Ty slammed the door shut, removing the barrier between her and him. “Do you ever stop talking?” he asked, his words like biting cuts in the evening air. “Because I’ve had just about enough of your mouth, little spitfire. Someone needs to teach you a good lesson in manners.”
Chessy looked up at him, the thought finally occurring to her that they were alone in the parking lot, and there was no one around to stop him from strangling her. She backed up a few steps, hating to back down, but she didn’t know whom she was dealing with here. He was obviously a thief, and a spy—he might be a murderer, for all she knew.
“D…don’t come any closer,” she replied, her voice wobbling suddenly. She held her hand out in front of her as if to ward him off. She squeaked when he grabbed it and pulled her in closer to him. “Let go of me…oomph.”
Ty wrapped his other hand in the long strawberry strands and bent to pillage the fruit of her delicate lips, holding her in place easily as she struggled. Finally, when she stilled, he looked down into her bemused green eyes. “Have I got your attention now?” Chessy was still mentally wading through a passion-drugged stream, struggling for a foothold. She didn’t have the ability to answer him. She had never been kissed like this before and her brain was still trying to catch up with her body’s reactions. She stared mutely up at him, wondering if he was going to strangle her now. She could see the headlines—woman strangled with no apparent struggle.
“Good. I can see that I have.” Ty answered his own question, but his hand had a slight tremor as he let go of her wrist to reach up and touch her silent lips. Never had a kiss shaken him up so much. He tried to push aside the unexpected desire to take her back to his home and into his bed. “I’m NOT a thief. Someone was breaking into your car and I interrupted them, that’s all.” He traced the outline of the soft pink protrusions and continued. “Nor am I the corporate spy that your overworking imagination has conjured up.”
He put his hand over her mouth when she opened it to finally speak. “I’m also a man who has come nearly to the end of his patience with you. My instincts right now are to turn you over my knee, bare your sassy butt, and spank the living daylights out of you.” Ty watched as her green eyes shot pure fire at him, but he continued, his hand still over her mouth. “However, this is not the time or the place. But mark my words, spitfire—it’s coming.”
He dropped his hand then and turned to walk away, feeling very confused with one heck of a bulge in his pants. He needed to put some space and distance between them. She was watching him as he started his car, looking as shell-shocked as he felt. “And next time, lock your car door because that’s going on the list of transgressions I’m going to take out of your backside,” he spat out his window as he drove off.
Chessy finally realized she was holding her breath, and she let it escape from between the lips he had so thoroughly ravaged. She lifted her fingers in silent wonder to touch them as she leaned against her car for support.
If this wasn’t a fine kettle of fish!
This man was the enemy, one of the wealthy and privileged, a sneak, and…and a bloody good kisser! She sighed and opened her car door. “Saints preserve us,” she muttered. “I think I’m falling for him.”
For fun and hijinks, come join myself and the fabulous author, Stevie MacFarlane in The Storytellers with Stevie & Brandy.
Forced to take her over his knee… The old west is dangerous territory, and these ladies need a lawman’s discipline. Five full-length historical western romances featuring cowboy lawmen and their sassy ladies. This cowboy collection includes stories from Vanessa Brooks, Mariella Starr, Brandy Golden, Laurel Joseph, and Patty Devlin.
Cowboy Caveat by Vanessa Brooks On a family ranch in Texas during the late 1800s, two cowboy husbands have their hands full when one of their womenfolk, full of a desire for vengeance, takes the law into her own hands. Amy and Lucy are about to find out what life is like when married to men who have no qualms about spanking their disobedient and disruptive wives!
Teaching Miss Maisie Jane by Mariella Starr Maisie Jane Jackson is an eastern genteel belle, too young, too spoiled and too stubborn to know what is good for her. In a fit of temper, she winds up on the wrong side of a whorehouse-owning hanging judge and she needs a rescuer. When these two collide there is not much doubt about who is going to win the battle of wills.
Upholding the Law by Laurel Joseph Upholding the Law by Laurel Joseph tells the story of Mac Keller and the undercover marshal who is nearly lynched on Keller land. JC Porter is grateful to the lovely woman for saving his life, but if she were his, he would spank her for putting herself in such a dangerous situation.
The Case of the Great Land Grab by Brandy Golden When ranchers start selling out in the Arizona territories, Wells Fargo assigns Thorn to figure out who is buying up the land and why. Thorn is used to tough, dangerous assignments, but when he finds out the childhood sweetheart he left behind is coming to him, he just may find himself with the toughest assignment of his career!
Mail-Order Switch by Patty Devlin Two old favorites, rewritten as one, with a special, bonus chapter. Liz will do anything to get away from her evil guardian, even disguise herself as a boy and head west. When Caroline, a stranger on the train next to her, sees through her disguise and begs her to take her place as a mail-order bride, Liz doesn’t hesitate long before saying yes. It had to be easier than working on a ranch, and as a married woman with a new name, she’ll be out of her evil guardian’s clutches forever.
Publishers Note: This steamy collection of historical western romances contains elements of power exchange and sensual scenes.
Good morning, my friends. I always like these giveaways because it gives one lucky person a chance for a wonderful prize. Please take the time to enter. You get a chance to win for every author you follow on Bookbub. We appreciate your support as our readers and we want to give something back!
And another great deal is here for you as well. This is an opportunity to check out new authors. This promotion is chock full of authors with a free book for you if you sign up for their fun newsletters that keep you informed. If you don’t like the book and feel that author isn’t for you, you can unsubscribe anytime. It’s easy! That includes my book, Voodoo in the Bayou! It’s available for a free download in this freebie list!
Remy Renquist wants to discover the mysterious treasure her great grandmother has left behind on her island in the Louisiana Bayou. What she didn’t expect to find was that the property is now inhabited by the biggest, grouchiest man in the swamp! She also didn’t expect to find herself attracted to such a golden bear of a man, or that he would take an instant dislike to her and her determination to fulfill her self-imposed mission of discovering the secrets of the old voodoo priestess she was named after.
Cork Renoir is bone weary, disenchanted with the music business, and determined to find peace and solitude in his bayou paradise. But when a frustrating and annoying pipsqueak of a girl disturbs his commune with nature to hunt for treasure, he sees red. And when he is forced to become her guide and protector, he is sure she has deliberately set out to annoy him, and he is determined to straighten her out with a few well-deserved trips across his knees.
Mystery, enchantment and voodoo are in the air, though. Will it weave its spell on the young couple as Remy finds the answers to the past buried on the property?
Disclaimer : Voodoo in the Bayou is a wonderful mystery that takes place in Louisiana swamp country. Complete with a resident ghost and all sorts of strange happenings, it also contains adult spanking, so if this is not to your liking, please do not buy this book.
You can get this book, and many others, for free in the following giveaway until the end of January. Even if you’re already on my newsletter list!
When Eileen Glencairn is forced into marriage for the second time, she finds her new husband is completely different from her first experience. The love and kindness Gallagher has shown her is teaching her to slowly trust again. It’s Christmas in the Highlands, and she has plans for Gallaher’s first gift from her. But if she can’t control her deeply rooted fears, how can she ever gift him her complete trust and submission?
When Gallagher finds his father’s interesting and well-stocked play room in Castle McCrae, he is delighted and immediately wants to plan some fun there with his new young wife, Eileen. But Eileen isn’t cooperating. When he finds out the room is a source of nightmares for her, he immediately drops the whole idea…until she brings it up again at Christmas. The holidays may prove to be very interesting after all!
Publishers Note: This historical romance contains elements of power exchange.
Castle McKenna of the MacAlister clan in Scotland’s Highlands, the 1760s
“I’ve returned to claim my inheritance, Leenie,” Morgan MacAlister stated flatly, his vivid green gaze studying Eileen’s face and body as if he didn’t recognize her.
And in truth, she knew she was very different from the twelve-year-old he’d left behind eight years ago when their half-brother, Canton, had cheated him out of his inheritance. His use of her nickname from childhood softened her somewhat.
“I can see that ye’ve been treated badly whilst I was gone, and I’m sorry for that, but I intend to have what’s mine,” Morgan said.
Defeating Canton and taking back their home had been Eileen’s goal for the past four years, and she’d finally been successful. Revenge against all the men in her life, including her brother, had been a powerful motivator, and she’d been sated with the sweet taste of victory.
What she hadn’t planned on was Morgan returning just when she’d defeated Canton to reclaim his inheritance himself. Nor had she planned on him bringing back Gallagher Glencairn, the rightful heir to the clan she now led.
She panned the beautiful rose garden they were standing in, the one their mother had loved, and her gaze finally came back to rest on Morgan. They were within the soft-colored, outer yellow walls of Castle McKenna where they had grown up. She’d been so hurt when Morgan had left her behind and at the mercy of Canton. And he hadn’t been there for her when Canton had sold her to Donald Glencairn, the Laird of Castle McCrae, in return for gold to fill Castle McKenna’s coffers.
As her gaze traveled up and down the changes in his physique, she realized that although Morgan had left a bitter and disillusioned young boy, he’d returned a powerful man, fully capable of leading the MacAlister clan.
Eileen sighed. Canton had manipulated them both, and she wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt. It was time to let go of the bitterness she harbored against Morgan and make things right. After all, she was a mother now, and she had her son to think of. Morgan and his new wife, Kat, were his family too, and she wanted Soren to know them both.
“I’ll give ye back control of Castle McKenna, Morgan, if Canton has left anything worth claiming,” she agreed wearily. “‘Tis yere inheritance after all. I can try to help ye if the coffers are empty again. Canton has spent through them twice over now.”
Morgan flashed her a gentle smile, some of the tension seeming to leave his strong muscled frame. “I don’t need yere money, Leenie. I have plenty of my own to take care of things.”
The garden door slid open and they both turned. Kat ushered Gallagher Glencairn through it. Eileen watched the approaching man warily, not liking the way he was looking at her. She couldn’t say what it was that made her uncomfortable…unless it was the appraising look in his silvery eyes. Or perhaps it was the square jaw that bespoke of a stubbornness to equal her own. There was a determined air about him, and his lips were set in a grim line as if he had a bone to pick with her.
She lifted her chin in defiance, her back stiffening as he neared. She’d seen Jamie and Dungally dragging him off to the study earlier, and they must have given him the bad news that he was no longer his father’s heir. Apparently, his dispossession of the title and lands of the Glencairn legacy wasn’t sitting well with him. Not that she could blame him. It was too late though, Castle McCrae and the Glencairn clan was hers now, her and Soren’s’.
Gallagher stopped in front of them, his avid gaze never leaving her. She stood there proudly, growing angry. He inspected her from the feet up, his attention lingering at the curve of her breasts then finally resting on her flushed face.
“Do I pass yere inspection then?” she mocked scornfully, somewhat unnerved by his sensual appraisal.
“Aye, ye’re quite beautiful, lass. No wonder my father wanted to wed ye. He always had an eye for a buxom wench.” His own eyes were contemptuous, as if she’d seduced Donald Glencairn.
“Yere father was a bastard,” Eileen snapped back at him. “How dare ye insinuate I had anything to do with this farce of a marriage? I thank the Gods that he’s been dead these past four years. He was a despicable excuse for a man.”
“I’ll not pretend a mock sorrow. I had no use for my father myself,” Gallagher responded grimly. “The real problem is how to get my inheritance back.”
“That’s not possible. Donald made his decree before the clan leaders and the village. It canna be broken.” She almost felt sorry for him, but not quite. He was Donald Glencairn’s’ own son after all.
“There’s always a way.”
He stepped forward and reached out to bring the knuckles of his hand along the side of her chin, and she drew her breath in quickly.
Flinching, she stepped back. “Don’t touch me!”
His hand dropped. “I was just going to tell ye there is a way. Dungally MacMillan, as clan leader, has made a decree himself.”
“And what might that be,” Eileen asked, suspicious, her heart beating faster. Her jawline tingled where he’d touched her and she hated the feeling. She didn’t want to react to him, nor to any man. And what the devil was Dungally up to?
“Ye can marry me.”
Eileen’s face surely paled. She couldn’t have heard him right. “M…marry?” she whispered, fearful.
“Aye, marry me,” he replied, watching her closely.
Morgan looked thoughtful. “Now that’s an interesting proposal, Gallagher. I don’t believe Dungally, even as clan leader, has the power to go over the law of the land. Besides, isn’t it a bit improper, considering the child?”
“It…it would be indecent,” Eileen stammered in agreement. Her face flushed, then grew cold again, her eyes stormed darker than before. “Even if I wanted to get married again, which I don’t, I can’t marry my dead husband’s son. Being married to a Glencairn was hellish enough the first time.”
“I knew my father, lass, so I can appreciate yere feelings. However, I am not my father.” He turned to Morgan. “Would ye leave us to discuss this ourselves? I will fill ye in later regarding the legalities.”
“Aye,” Morgan agreed with a slight frown. “As long as everything is legal, I’ll leave ye to it.”
“I have no intention of discussing this, now or any other time. I will not marry ye.” Eileen stepped around him with the intent of leaving.
He reached out and grasped her arm.
Quick as a wink her right hand came up of its own accord and she slapped him across the face. “Take yere hand off me,” she said, trying to jerk loose.
Gallagher held her easily while she squirmed to pull free. When she couldn’t, she screamed in frustration and attempted to slap him again.
“Stand still and I’ll release ye,” he said calmly, stopping her swing and holding both arms as she struggled wildly.
“Gallagher,” Morgan began and started back towards them, concern for Eileen in his green eyes.
Gallagher stopped him with a look. “I won’t hurt her, Morg,” he assured him, reverting to the casual use of his friend’s name.
The two men studied each other.
Morgan finally nodded and stepped back. “I’ll just be inside if ye need me, Leenie.”
Gallagher’s warm hands on her arms created strange sensations, and Eileen didn’t like it at all. Why was his mere touch having this effect on her? She stopped struggling and was rewarded with her release. She quickly folded her arms beneath her breasts again, her chest heaving with exertion. She stared at him, defiant, hating him for the reaction he’d incited in her unwilling body.
“Don’t ever hit me again, lass.” His gaze bored into her eyes with a deadly warning.
“Or what?” She eyed him, contemptuous. “Ye’ll hit me back?”
Gallagher’s brow curled upward. “Nay, I don’t hit women. But ye won’t like the consequences, I can guarantee that.”
“Keep yere hands off me and I won’t have to,” she replied derisively.
The door to the garden closed, making them both aware that Morgan had left, leaving them alone. Suddenly, Eileen felt trapped and at a distinct disadvantage. Although she knew Morgan was within earshot if she chose to call to him, she couldn’t help the feeling of abandonment once again. Shaking it off, she backed up until she was well away from Gallagher’s physical aura and felt like she could breathe normally again.
“I’ve been giving it some thought, and I have a proposition for ye to think about.” He folded his bare brawny arms across his wide chest as he spoke.
“Go on,” Eileen ordered disdainfully, although she had no intention of agreeing to any outlandish offer. Not even for Dungally MacMillan, who had treated her like the father she still mourned the loss of, or Jamie McCann, who had been her staunch friend, would she accept it.
“We’ll have a marriage in name only and for the period of one year. After that, I’ll set ye free with all ye need to live on and see to it that the child is well taken care of. What do ye say?”
Eileen was astounded at Gallagher’s words. “And just why should I agree to this peculiar scheme? I’ve got it all now, and my son’s future is assured. He will have everything his father had to offer him. Donald Glencairn owed me that, so why should I turn it all over to you and retire on a stipend? It’s a ridiculous offer, and the answer is no.” She glared at him, daring him to refute her.
“Two reasons. One, the child is not my fathers.”
Eileen felt horrified and sick at heart beneath his disapproving scrutiny. “Dungally told ye about Soren?” she asked, disbelieving.
“Aye. He said ye were forced against yere will and that my father decided to take the babe as his own.” A brief flash of sympathy played across his face but was instantly gone.
“Something like that,” she agreed and then laughed bitterly, knowing it was Donald who had forced someone to breed with her. He was certainly no hero, taking Soren on as if she’d actually been raped. The old man had planned it.
“And two, the clan is unhappy with a woman leading it. They want me back, and I intend to have my rightful place back as well. Dungally and Jamie have insisted we be married to put things right.”
“As far as the clan is concerned, Soren is Donald’s son, and I don’t have to marry ye. No one knows any differently,” she declared.
“Nevertheless, ye will marry me.” He stared down into her rebellious face, imposing his will upon her own, and Eileen felt helpless suddenly.
“But…it’s against the law to intermarry. The king himself has decreed it.” She watched him carefully, his regal bearing lazily sensual as he studied her, gauging her reactions. A pull tugged at her senses in spite of herself. He was a handsome brute.
“We are not related by blood, lass,” Gallagher replied. “And knowing I’d be back one day, Jamie took it upon himself to request an exception from the king’s own lips, should it prove a viable situation. He has the paperwork with the king’s seal on it authorizing our marriage.”
Eileen was stunned. She’d been outmaneuvered and she hadn’t even seen it coming. Curse Jamie and Dungally for not telling her, and damn them for their well-meaning machinations.
“Nay! I won’t do it,” she yelled furiously. Despair filled her heart as she saw her well-ordered, hard-won world crumbling about her. “They can’t make me marry ye, they have no right!”
He moved in closer. “If ye refuse to wed me, then ye leave me no choice but to come against ye in war. I’ll win, but it will cost many lives, some of whom will be our friends. They will have no choice but to support ye, even if they don’t approve of yere position, and some will die for that loyalty. Do ye want that on yere conscience?” His gaze locked with hers. “I have no wish to do that, but ye leave me little choice. Jamie McCann is my cousin, and Dungally is the clan leader, and they want me back. But they will not support me if I declare the child an illegal heir. Also, because of the great respect I have for yere brother, I have no desire to shame his sister. So war would be my only recourse.” His head dove down and he looked her straight in the eye, his expression fierce as he made his declaration. “Make no mistake, I was born to rule the Glencairn clan, and rule it I will, with or without ye.”
“I can’t believe yere own conscience would allow ye to wage war,” she whispered painfully, her face undoubtedly deathly white at his words. There was no denying he meant every one of them.
“I’ll do what I have to do,” he replied with a grimace. “If ye agree to marry me and we find that we suit one another after the year is up, we’ll make it a real marriage. Soren will be my heir and have his place amongst our children.”
Eileen could have sworn regret and kindness lingered in that silvery gaze, hiding somewhere behind determination. If she had, his next words destroyed it.
“But if ye make me come against ye in war, when I defeat ye, I’ll turn ye out with a mere pittance and no inheritance for the child either.”
“Ye are a bastard then, just like yere father,” she hissed, swinging in reaction to land a vicious slap across his face once again. She put all her pent-up frustration and fury into that slap and immense satisfaction coursed through her at the immediate red handprint that blazed across his lean jaw.
Her satisfaction was short-lived as his eyes tapered to slits. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around. His long arm was a steel band around her middle, and he pulled her against him and quickly divested her of her armor, sword, and belt. Then he dragged her, angry and kicking at his thick calves, over to a stone bench inside the shaded arbor.
“I said, don’t touch me,” she yelled, fearful. What was he going to do to her? Would he rape her? She’d been caught off guard, not expecting any requital, and that had cost her.
It was a shock of a different kind when she unexpectedly found herself face down over his hard, muscled thighs. She fought desperately, suddenly aware of where this was going. “What are ye doing? Let me up!”
Just in time for Christmas, with enough spice and sexy sweetness to keep you warm and entertained!
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