Countdown to Virtue and Valor’s Release-Fifteen Days!

Highland Heather Romancing A Scot Series, Book 2

 

I’m so excited! 

Just over two weeks and my ninth individual book (fourteen published work) will release.  For everyone who couldn’t wait to read Isobel Ferguson and Yancy, the Earl of Ramsbury’s story, this is it.  You’ll remember them from the Castle Brides series and Triumph and Treasure, (Book 1 in the series). 

ENJOY A SNIPPET

In this scene, Isobel and Yancy have taken refuge in a cottage on their way back to Craiglocky. They’re caught in bed together, though, when you read the story, you’ll know, nothing happened. However, her father and brothers don’t know that.  

Dragging the blanket with her, Isobel sat up. “Ewan, stop it this instant. Nothing happened. If you’d notice, he’s wearing pantaloons.”

She tried to ignore the awkwardness of the demeaning situation. Nonetheless, the men shuffling at the end of the bed and Harcourt’s appraisal strained her composure.

Pointing at the sword, she scowled. “Get that away from Yancy.”

“I warned you, Ramsbury, not to trifle with her affections.” Ewan sent her a glance filled with disappointed accusation. “I expected better from you, Isobel.”

“Aye, it’s shocked I be, lass.” Father’s usually jovial eyes brimmed with disapproval.  

Pain welled within her chest, and she stifled a wounded gasp. Clasping the blanket tighter, she dropped her gaze as mortification surged from her bare shoulders to her hairline.

They blame me.

And Ewan had warned Yancy away from her? Tears pooled, but she refused to shed them.

Yancy shifted the tiniest bit, nudging her knee with his. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I’ve every intention of marrying her.”

Nearly letting loose of the blanket, Isobel swung her gaze to him. Had she heard him correctly? “Pardon?”

“Not the most romantic proposal, I know.” A twinkle entered his expressive eyes. “A blade at one’s throat does rather ruin the moment.”

He probably said he intended to marry her to save his skin.

Father and Dugall appeared ready to pummel him. Ewan threatened with the sword tip, and the others’ countenances were no less menacing, except Harcourt who seemed highly amused by the situation.

Her composure and patience at an end, Isobel jerked her head toward the door. “Leave. All of you, so I can rise.”

“Not until we settle the matter.” Legs spread, Father folded his arms, his expression unyielding.

Stubborn oaf.

Dugall mimicked their father’s stance.

If it hadn’t been for the seriousness of the situation, Isobel might have teased him. Instead, she flashed her father as stare meant to scorch his hair and blister his skin.

“Do you think to have this discussion with Isobel unclothed in full view of these men, Sir Hugh?” With a blade at his throat, Yancy dared challenge her father.

A rush of appreciation seized her. She might be able to pretend chagrin wasn’t shattering her, but she wouldn’t be able to continue the ruse much longer. Especially, with the curious and censured glances—and a few appreciative ones as well—covertly directed at her from the clansmen.

Everyone between here and London would know of her ruination within days.

Yancy’s question took Father aback. His dark brown eyes assessed the earl. “Nae. Clear the room. That be includin’ ye, yer lordship.”

Yancy patted Isobel’s leg. “Everything will be all right. I promise.”

As you promised last night?

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