Trickster muse sisters, Clio and Erato, kidnap genealogist Fleur Anpao and dump her in the seventeenth century. Even though Fleur has never been to Scotland, let alone the Highlands, and feels like a modern-day fish out of an ancient loch, the muses have a plan. What it is remains to be ambiguous—they are mischievous muses, after all, and can’t just tell her. Though the logical genealogist wants nothing more than to return home, there’s something about this time and rough land that feels somehow familiar. And there’s something about Duncan MacKay—so strong, so brutally handsome, and so distracting.
As a mercenary for long years, Duncan has seen many things. But never in his life has he seen the likes of Fleur: more beautiful than any woman he could have imagined. It doesn’t matter she insists she’s from another time, or that she’s too far out of reach for a common man like him. He’s drawn to her intelligence and wicked sense of humor.
However, Cromwell’s reign threatens anarchy, clan rivalries reach a peak, and a laird’s younger brother vies for her attention. He can hardly protect her from his county’s bedlam, let alone convince her he’s the better man. And if he does, will the bonny time traveler stay with him?
However, Cromwell’s reign threatens anarchy, clan rivalries reach a peak, and a laird’s younger brother vies for her attention. He can hardly protect her from his county’s bedlam, let alone convince her he’s the better man. And if he does, will the bonny time traveler stay with him?
Making matters worse, a god wreaks havoc, or has fun as he calls it, with Clio and Erato’s mortals. The two firecracker time stewards might have to set down their margaritas for this glimpse!
ENJOY AN EXCERPT
Looking over his shoulder, he saw the crowd of recruits still far off.
Laird MacKay had asked for Duncan by name to help train the new troops, since the laird’s brother, Rory, was new to the captaincy. New to military life in general. Duncan had been the obvious choice because he’d been a soldier then a soldier of fortune, for a decade and a-half. And now was the time when Himself needed soldiers. Ah, hell, was there ever a time when soldiers wouldn’t be needed? After Cromwell had burnt through Scotland, the chiefs and lairds kept speaking of revenge. Reciprocity, they’d said. What the hell did they know if they hadn’t lost one of their own, say, a younger brother with sparkling mischievous green eyes?
Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him for thinking such things again?
He shook his head, startled upon seeing orange flames from the corner of his eye. After a second look, he realized he was standing less than ten feet from a small fire right at the entrance of the cave, wondering how he couldn’t have seen it when he first arrived. But it was the sight beyond the sparks that entranced him, sitting so still he thought mayhap she was a statue. But eventually one side of her full pink lips curled up in a . . . Jesus, what a smile.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was melodious and fluid, as if she’d just woken.
It seemed to take him an eternity, but finally he said, “Hello.”
“It’s probably illegal to have this fire, huh?”
Fire? What fire? All he could do was stare at her. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful in all his life. She was dressed in black, yet nothing like he’d ever seen before. But she—her—Lord Almighty, from her blackest black hair to her tiny nose and those full pink lips, she was wildly exotic. Her eyes shone back at him, sparkling like onyx. As much as she wore black, even her dark coloring, she glowed as if she were made from heaven’s own light.
Mayhap she was an angel.
“Am I in big trouble for the fire?”
He had to shake himself to gain access to some part of his mind that could function and speak.
“Nay.” Brilliant. He sounded just this side of idiotic.
God, then she did it again. She smiled. It widened and brightened, and Duncan felt his solar plexus explode with something he’d thought long dead.
“You seem . . . cold. Want to join me?”
Before he could even think, he was walking toward her. He sat right beside her too, not even a thought about circumstances or consequences, just staring. Couldn’t be helped. Couldn’t stop himself if he’d wanted to. And, oh, how he didn’t want to.
She kept her eyes on him, her smile shifting to warm and welcoming. For a long moment she searched his face, then glanced about his linen shirt. He’d forgotten he was drenched. With a quick glance, he noticed his goose bumps and nipples peaking out from his nearly translucent white shirt. He may as well have been naked from the waist up. Thank the Lord, his brown, heavy plaid was thick and didn’t reveal as much. That was when he realized he sat cross-legged, as she did. Oh, her legs. Yet again he couldn’t stop from staring at her long limbs, clad in black shiny trews that left precious little to the imagination.
“I’m Fleur. Fleur Anpoa.”
Pretty name. He almost let the words trip out of his mouth, as though he was a bumbling lad. “Duncan,” was all he could stammer. Aye, that was much better.
“You live around here, Duncan?” Her accent was lovely—definitely not Scottish, from the Highlands or the Low, but not quite English either.
“Aye.” Damn it all, say something more. Helpless, he gazed at her, while she looked deeply into his eyes.
She smiled widely and arched a perfect black brow. “Not a man of many words, hmm?”
Well, if she were in his head, and already he knew a part of her was, then she would know his mind was amuck with too many words, too many . . . feelings. No, that wasn’t quite right. Of his sentiments he felt only two—curiosity, and an animalistic sense he knew only during battle. But this—this was different. This wasn’t mere desire, for he knew what that felt like. This other feeling was magnetic and too powerful for him to make much sense of. All he knew was he wanted to sit with her for the next eon or so.
Where you can find Highlander of Mine:
Highlander of Mine will be available November 5, 2014 at all the major retail book sellers—Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, etc.
Bio for Red:
As a military historian by day, sometimes Red does feel a bit clandestine when she writes romance at night. No one knows that while she researches heroes of the past and present, she uses everything for her characters in her books. Her secret’s been safe . . . until now.
She lives in Montana with her family and far too many animals but never enough books.
She loves her readers, so please feel free to contact her at http://www.redljameson.com
You can find Red L. Jameson at . . .
Website: www.redljameson.com
Amazon Author Page: http://goo.gl/Gvd2vq
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/redljameson/
