Woot! So happy to announce that Highland Conquest, book 2 in my historical romance series, The Sons Of Gregor MacLeod, releases today!
He was looking for vengeange…
Laird Lachlan MacKay never planned on
leading his clan, but when his older brother was murdered, he was left with no
choice. His vow to avenge his brother has led him to the MacPherson clan—and
their bewitching healer, Amber.
Instead, he found her
Amber MacPherson is desperate. Dressed as a
boy to escape her clan's treacherous leader, she runs right into Lachlan—who
orders her detained. At first she causes him nothing but frustration,
especially when she blackmails him into helping her clan. But when she’s
threatened by the same man who murdered his brother, Lachlan will do whatever
it takes to keep her safe—and by his side.
And what makes Highland Conquest's release day even better? (Other than Bellinis and chocolate, of course!) Book 1 in the series, Highland Promise, is FREE February 7th & 8th!!
When forced to choose between duty and honor…
Darach MacKenzie vowed never to let a woman
near his heart after his bride-to-be betrayed him, sparking a blood feud
between his clan and the Frasers. With all-out war in the wind, Darach can’t allow
a woman to distract him again—not even a sweet and charming lass who
desperately needs his help.
This Highland Laird will find a way to have both
When Darach rescued Caitlin MacInnes from
the vile Laird Fraser, she vowed to never let men or misery rule her life
again. She has a plan, and it involves leaving Darach and the MacKenzie clan no
mattr how safe she feels. But when Laird Fraser shows up to claim what’s
rightfully his, it’s too late. Darach will have to use all his brawn and brains
to protect Caitlin—even if it means losing his heart.
~~~~~~~
Read on for a HIGHLAND CONQUEST Sneak Peak!
Amber brought the tea over, and after passing Lachlan his
cup, she sat in her chair, the table between them. He lifted the cup to his
nose and smelled honey and chamomile. ’Twas hot, so he blew on it before taking
a sip.
And the moment suddenly seemed right. Nay, not just
right. Perfect.
“Tastes good,” he said.
“Aye, the honey is fresh. Finola gave it to me.”
He nodded, and they sat quietly together for a few
minutes, drinking their tea. He tried to think of how to ask her to sleep with
him tonight, but everything sounded too formal or trite. Besides, she’d
probably been asked in every way possible by the horde of men chasing her.
“So…what do we do now?” Her voice caught at the
end, like she was a wee bit nervous too.
“Well, you could try
to tempt me to your bed.” Maybe humor would do it.
She half snorted, half laughed, and her hand flew
up to cover her face.
“What? You doona think ’tis possible?” he asked.
“Aye, most likely. But you could at least try.”
“Oh, I think ’tis possible. I think many things are
possible tonight. Like darning socks or whittling stakes for the new pen that
was broken.”
“I’ve darned socks before.”
“You have?”
“Aye. Gregor made us learn how to do all sorts of
things. He said we should know how to repair torn clothing, especially socks,
for when we were out on long trips. Best not to leave your toe sticking out and
exposed to the elements when all it takes is a needle, some yarn, and a wee bit
of know-how to prevent an injury.”
“I think I’d like your Gregor. When do I get to
meet him?”
“Soon. I sent letters out to him and the rest of
the lads, asking them to come.”
“And they’ll just drop everything?”
“Aye, as I would for them.” A log popped and
shifted in the hearth, sending out sparks. “He’ll like you. A great deal. If he
was twenty years younger and not still in love with his dead wife, he’d try to
convince you to marry him, I’m sure.”
“Marry him?”
“Aye, that ceremony the priest performs in front of
all your friends and family and ties you to another person for life.” By the
love of God, what was he doing bringing up marriage?
“God’s blood, what are you doing talking about
marriage?”
He almost laughed at their dual thoughts. “I doona
know. ’Twas almost as big a blunder as what I said about your hair.”
“You’re as daft as a bat tonight.”
“But sweet too. Aye?”
She raised a brow, neither confirming nor denying,
and continued to sip her tea. “What happens after Machar Murray is caught?”
“If we take him alive, he’ll be hanged for his
crimes—against my brother and me, against you and the rest of your clan,
against all the other people he’s hurt.”
“Our clan.”
“Sorry?”
“You are now the MacPherson laird, so it’s your
clan too. Not just mine. These people care for you. They trust you to do what’s
best for them.”
“I’m doing that, Amber.”
“But for how long? Do you intend to leave
afterward?”
He rubbed his knuckles along his jaw, suspecting
this wasn’t just about the clan. She was asking if he planned to leave her. “I
willna be gone forever, love. And I’ll leave someone here to make sure everyone
is safe and things are progressing as they should. You’ll be taken care of.”
It was the wrong thing to say…again. He knew it the
instant her shoulders tightened under her arisaid.
“Nay, thank you. I’m quite capable of taking care
of myself.”
She clicked her nails on her cup and looked into
the fire. He missed the intensity of her gaze on him.
“So you’ll stay until just before the first
snowfall, then?” she asked.
“Most likely.”
“Sounds like you wouldnae want to be trapped here
o’er winter.”
“I doona know, Amber. At this point, I just want to
catch Murray.” He leaned forward in his chair so his fingers touched her knees.
“And I want to be with you.”
“Until winter,” she insisted.
“I have to get back. I canna leave my own clan for
too long.”
She nodded. Then picked up her cup and walked in a
stilted fashion back to the kitchen.
“Amber—”
“When you leave, I willna be able to tell you
things.”
He rose and stared at her back, the tension
thrumming in his veins. “Nay, but you can write to me.”
“Then I will have told you everything. What about
the things you are to understand even though I tell you naught?”
“Nay. I’m worried I’ll lose something far more important.”
He raised his hands, palms up. “Lose what? Amber, what do you mean?”
“Isla said a man could understand the things I say even if I doona use words. I said it sounded like witchcraft, but all I have to do is look at her and Alban to know it’s possible.”
“That he can read minds?”
“That something sacred can be formed between a man and a woman. Something divine.”
He crossed the room and placed his hands on her shoulders, drawing her back against him.
“I can show you divine, Amber.”
She turned her head to the side, resting her cheek on his chest, and inhaled. “I’m sure you can. I keep imaging your hands and mouth on me…”
“As do I, believe me—”
“…but I doona think it would be enough.”
His fingers squeezed tight, and he forced himself to ease up. But it was hard to let go—he felt her slipping away, possibly further away than she’d been since they met.
“So you want me to marry you, then?” he asked. “Because I doona e’er plan to marry. Be verra clear on that. And I doona want bairns, either.”
“I’m not asking for that.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“I doona know. Divine possibility.”
He released her and turned around, shoving his hands through his hair.
“I thought you were different.”
“Why? Because I curse? Or I’m not afraid to get my hands bloody? I know lots of lasses who do those things.”
“Nay, because you ne’er seem to care what people think of you.”
“’Tis not about what other people think of me. ’Tis what I think about myself.”
He walked to the hearth and leaned on it. “So is that it, then? Have you decided against me?”
“I doona know, Lachlan. I think… I think I care about you, which complicates things.”
He turned to look at her, the blood thudding slowly in his ears. “Are you saying you love me?”
“Nay. I doona know you well enough to love you, do I? But…you make me laugh, and while you annoy me, ’tis not in the same way the other men annoy me. Understand?”
“Not in the least. Should I be pleased that my level of annoyance is different from the other men that dog your heels?”
“You should be whate’er you like. ’Tis not my job to placate you.”
“I didn’t ask you to placate me. Bloody, aggravating woman!”
“Nay, you just asked me for everything else and expect to give naught in return!”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Why was this so difficult? He’d ne’er had such trouble with a woman before.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “You’re young. You’ll want things I canna give you.”
She tossed her head, her arms crossed over her body. “I doona want anything from you that I canna have from another man. You think this is about marriage and bairns? ’Tis not. I could walk to the castle and be married within the hour if that was what I wanted.”
“Then what do you want?”
She pressed her lips together, her jaw tight, those beautiful eyes bright.
He threw his hands in the air. “If you doona tell me, Amber, I canna know.”
“I want balance.”
His brow crinkled. “What does that even mean?”
“When you leave, will you forget me? Will you pine for me? Will you be with other women after me? If we’ve been intimate, that changes things for me. I doona want to pine. ’Tis not in my nature.” She pushed her hair back with both hands, but the shorter stands fell forward and framed her face. “Maybe I need to be with someone else first. If I weren’t a virgin—”
“What? That makes even less sense.”
“Well, you can treat it as tupping and naught else because you’ve been with other lasses. ’Tis not so with me. So maybe if I have carnal pleasure with someone else first, someone I like who doesn’t belong to my clan, I willna feel this tie to you. You said your foster brothers were arriving, aye?”
A wave of black fury crashed within him, and he stalked forward. “You are not tupping one of my brothers!”
“Who would you suggest, then?”
“No one!”
“Ever? You need to be practical about this, Lachlan. I will be alone all winter. I may meet someo—”
“Are you deliberately trying to rile me? Because it’s working. These are the kind of things my mother would say.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “To you?”
“Not those exact words. I meant she would try to manipulate people and their emotions. I will not be manipulated, Amber.”
“What part of me telling the truth is manipulation? You want to tup me, Lachlan, and then you want to leave. Do you expect me to be chaste until you return? Will you be chaste for me?”
He opened his mouth then closed it, and did so again before saying, “I could be.”
“So you want to commit to me? And for me to commit to you? Some might call that marriage.”
He ground his teeth, the two conflicting emotions fighting for dominance within him: possession and freedom. “Nay. Not. Marriage.”
She nodded and blew out a breath. “I agree. Maybe the next time you’re here it will be different. But for now, I think we need to find some socks to darn.”
Snag your copy of Highland Conquest today!
~~~~~~~
Alyson McLayne is a mom of twins and an award-winning writer of contemporary, historical, and paranormal romance. She’s also a dog lover and cat servant with a serious stash of dark chocolate. After getting her degree in theater at the University of Alberta, she promptly moved to the West Coast of Canada where she worked in film for several years and met her Prop Master husband.
She and her family reside in Vancouver with their sweet but troublesome chocolate lab puppy named Jasper.
Please catch up with Alyson on social media. She loves chatting with her readers!
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