Both Gallagher Glencairn and Morgan MacAlister have returned to Scotland to reclaim their heritage. When Gallagher finds that Morgan’s sister, the golden-haired lass with the beautiful haunted eyes now rules his clan, he is determined to regain control. He gives Eileen two choices—she can agree to wed him, or he will wage war against her and take his inheritance back. Neither choice is palatable to him, but Gallagher was born to rule Glencairn, and rule it, he will.
Fiercely embittered from being used by men as a pawn in their schemes, Eileen is not happy to see her brother return. Nor is she happy to see the son of the laird she married, bore a son too, and whose lands and titles she inherited for her own son, arrive with him. Eileen is tough on the outside but harbors a terrible secret within, a secret of pain, betrayal and a fierce desire for revenge.
Coming this week, April 26th. Enjoy the excerpt below.
“Ye are a bastard, just like your father,” she hissed, her arm 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 felt immense satisfaction at the immediate red handprint that blazed across his lean jaw. Her satisfaction was short-lived. She saw his eyes taper to slits just seconds before he grabbed her arm and whirled her around, his long arm a steel band around her middle as 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, across to a stone bench inside the shaded arbor.
“I said, don’t touch me,” she yelled fearfully. What was he going to do to her? Would he rape her? She’d been caught off guard, not expecting any real reaction 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 began to fight desperately, suddenly aware of where this was going. “What are ye doing? Let me up!”
“I warned ye never to hit me again,” he snarled harshly, holding her easily. “Ye have brought this on yourself.” He quickly unbuttoned her riding skirts and slid them down with the thin pantaloons in one deft swipe. It was probably improper, but they were going to be married whether she liked it or not.
His heart jumped into his throat at the site of the pale globes he’d uncovered but he persevered in his task. His hand trembled slightly as it passed over the silky contours of those globes before lifting his right arm high in the air.
“Ye are not going to spank me like a child! I won’t allow it…” Her words were cut off as a hard slap exploded against her bare backside, sounding like a pistol shot in the enclosed garden walls. “Ye bastard,” she yelped as she tried to tuck her bottom in, expecting another one. It came, just as merciless as the first, and then another and another. “Let me up,” she demanded, the sharp chastisement resounding in her ears and searing into her unwilling flesh.
“And this is for calling me a bastard. I had a father, however, lacking he might have been.” Gallagher landed several more painful slaps on the wiggling cheeks he held over his lap and then hauled her upright, his mind’s eye memorizing the site of those milky buttocks with his red handprints. He was far from unaffected by the sight and a certain part of his anatomy was becoming painfully rigid.
Eileen scrambled away from him, her eyes spitting sparks of resentment and fury. “I’ll have your head for this,” she snapped hoarsely, holding tears at bay as she quickly adjusted her clothing. Her chest was heaving with the exertion of fighting and she shook her small fist impotently at him.
“I think not,” he replied, watching her very carefully. “And if ye hit me again, I’ll blister that pretty arse until ye can’t sit for a week. Is that clear?”
She glowered scornfully at him, refusing to answer and ignored the desire to clutch her bottom and rub the sting away. No one had ever dared to treat her in this humiliating fashion, not even Donald. Morg had spanked her once. She’d only been ten at the time and had deserved it for throwing rocks at him. That was a long time ago and she was not a child anymore. “I hate ye,” she hissed sullenly, her bottom lip trembling. “How dare ye treat me like a child?”
“You’ll find I dare quite a lot,” he replied mockingly. “Now are ye going to marry me or not?”
This is the second book in the Revenge series. Each book is a standalone book, this is not a continued story although some characters will carry over. I’m currently working on my third novel in this series. I hope you enjoy Revenge in the Highlands. I’ll be sending a link soon, but in the meantime, don’t forget to check out Revenge of the Pirate Twins.
Ye might enjoy this haunting lovely melody of love in Scotland as well entitled, You take the High Road.
If this doesn’t get you in the mood for a Scottish romance I’m not sure what will!
Thanks, you all!