TARAH SCOTT
Award winning 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
MY HIGHLAND LORD
London Heiress kidnapped by the Marquess
of Ashlund, read the headlines. Yet no one tried to save her.
Phoebe Wallington was seven years old when
a mass assassination attempt rocked Regency England. Her father was the only
accused traitor to elude capture. Now as a grown woman and a British spy, she
is no closer to learning what really happened that day.
Phoebe's quest for the truth takes a sudden
turn when she's kidnapped by a suspected traitor. But Kiernan MacGregor, the Marquess of Ashlund, may
not live long enough to stand trial. Someone wants him dead. And Phoebe stands
in the killer's way.
Even a case of mistaken identity can't get in the way of true love.
Thanks for having me, Denyse! It's so nice
to be here. Today, I'm sharing bit about my latest release, the second book in
the Highland Lords series, My Highland Lord. These books are stand
alone, so no worries if you haven't read the first book My Highland Love.
My
Highland Lord carries on the MacGregor saga with
Kiernan MacGregor, the Marquess of Ashlund, and is set at the very beginning of
the Victorian era. I found this a very fun era to write about. Manners are
everything, and unlike Kiernan's father, who shunned society, Kiernan is a
product of British society. However, he is his father's son and just can't help
breaking the rules when he's smitten with a lady. I hope you enjoy this
snippet.
~~~
Phoebe shifted against the bed pillows and
glanced at the mantle clock. Ten minutes before six. Her gaze fell to the low
burning embers in the hearth. Morning was upon them and the commotion of the
earlier hours had long since died. Yet, as promised by Kiernan MacGregor,
Mather stood outside her door. Mather had shown the good sense to untie her
before positioning himself as guard. Her first thought had been that Kiernan
regretted his rash outburst of temper, but Mather’s “You ought not to have
ignored his commands, Miss,” did away with any notion that his master had
enough sense to comprehend his sin.
A perfunctory knock sounded on the door,
then it opened and the object of her thoughts filled the doorway. Phoebe
straightened.
“My one burning question, Heddy,” he said,
closing the door as he stepped inside—she noted Mather no longer stood outside
the door—“is why you were following Alan Hay?”
“That offense didn't warrant you tying me
up as if me as I was the criminal,” she retorted.
Kiernan snorted. “I would have done far
worse if you were a criminal.” He strode to the chair to the right of her bed
and sat down. “Answer the question.”
“If I answer incorrectly, will you tie me
up again?”
“I might.”
Phoebe forced herself to relax against the
pillows and raised a brow. “A simple case of ennui.”
He blinked, and Phoebe feared she had
earned another trussing up, then his expression grew speculative. The look
abruptly disappeared and he settled into a corner of his chair.
He draped an arm over the chair’s back and
drawled, “Ennui, you say?”
Despite his lazy expression, Phoebe was
startled by the decided lack of interest in his voice. “Yes,” she replied.
He gave a single nod. “Your quest for
adventure nearly got you killed, my dear.”
“It was an exciting adventure,” she
rejoined in a bright voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Indeed.”
“Indeed,” she emphasized.
“I am pleased,” Kiernan said.
Phoebe frowned. “What are you talking
about?”
“This fine bit of coquettish flirting.”
She stiffened. He was right, which made the
analysis all the worse. “This isn't an evening ball,” she snapped.
“And I am not an earl.”
“You could be a merchant—or a farmer—for
all I care." Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "Who are you? You keep company
with Lord Stoneleigh, which means you're not lowborn, and the villagers here
look to you for leadership. You are no merchant—or a farmer, for that
matter."
He laughed. "If I was a merchant,
would my money be enough for you, or is a title required?"
She forced her temper back. "Sir, I
understand you believe I am Hester—”
He coughed as if to clear his throat.
Phoebe crossed her arms beneath her
breasts. “I understand you believe I am Hester and that you're doing your
friend a service.”
“Heddy.” He leaned forward and reached for
the hand she had stuffed beneath her arm.
Phoebe stiffened, but he pried the hand
free and lifted it to his lips. His mouth against her hand caused her pulse to
jump and warmth spread up her cheeks. His eyes registered curiosity, but he
released her hand and reclined in his chair again.
“Forgive me for laughing,” he said.
“I can forgive the mistaken identity—as
inconvenient as it is—but tying me up goes beyond the pale.”
“I'm pleased to have your forgiveness,
regardless of the reason.”
“When this escapade is finished, you will
find yourself at a disadvantage.”
“Heddy,” he said with resignation, “I find
myself at a disadvantage now.”
She gave him a dry look. “I doubt that.
When do you plan on sending word to the authorities of the murder plot against
the duchess—or have you already done so?”
Kiernan leaned back in his chair. “No need
to concern yourself with that.”
"But—my God, you don't intend to
report them. You will stand idly by while a murder is planned and executed?”
“What is one murder in exchange for fifteen
thousand?" he replied. " Or do fifteen thousand Highlanders hold less
value to you than a single noblewoman?” He paused. "Perhaps, the gratitude
of the duchess' male relatives interests you more?”
Phoebe shot to her feet. “Even Heddy
wouldn't lower herself to such debased actions.”
“Lower herself?” Kiernan laughed, although
the sound held none of his characteristic humor. “Heddy, I have seen—”
“By heavens," she burst out. "I
am not Heddy.”
“No?” he murmured. When all she did was
give a frustrated growl, he rose, “Well then—" He yanked her against him.
His mouth crashed down on hers and she froze.
One arm slipped around her waist while the other cupped her neck. She gasped,
but he hugged her closer. His tongue invaded her mouth, the taste of him,
shocking and intoxicating. His arm
tightened, but the kiss, the thrust of his tongue, softened to a feathery
touch. He shuddered, and her heart leapt into a furious rhythm.
His mouth moved slowly against her lips.
She became aware of the hard bulge pressing against her abdomen and clutched at
his shoulders. Heat streaked from the unexpected throb in her breasts to her
stomach, then lower. He abruptly tore his mouth from hers and buried his face
in her neck. Phoebe swayed. His low laugh washed warm across her ear and she
shivered.
“You temptress,” he breathed. “I understand
what Regan sees in you.”
“Just because I was in Heddy's coach
doesn't mean I am her,” she said through a gulp of air.
Kiernan straightened away from her and
stared down at her, eyes intense. “I wonder if Regan would believe me if I
swore I didn’t know you're his lover." His gaze slid down her body, and
she couldn't find the will to move even as his eyes lifted again to her face.
"You make testing the theory tempting. In fact—"
His fingers tightened on her arms and she
realized he intended to test the theory that
instant.
MY HIGHLAND LORD
I have this on my TBR list. I think it just got moved to the front of the line!!! ;o)
ReplyDeleteSuzan