I‘m so excited for The Earl’s Enticement’s release in May. Adaira and Roark’s story has been burning to be shared since I wrote Highlander’s Hope.
In this scene, Adaira has tricked Roark into walking almost all the way to Craiglocky Keep with the intention of taking him prisoner.
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| Adaira breeds these horses, though they won’t be called Clydesdale’s until later |
Marquardt advanced a few more inches. His face glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. “I’ll assume you knew there were horses available as well.”
After a paralyzing moment when Adaira couldn’t exhale due to the fear hammering against her ribs, she released a measured breath and raised her chin in defiance.
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| Scottish Crofter’s Cottage |
“Which leads me to question why you deliberately deceived me?” His piercing indigo eyes skimmed her from hair to boots, lingering for a deliberate moment on her hips and chest before he smirked and lifted his disinterested glacial gaze to meet hers once more.
Adaira narrowed her eyes.
Infuriating man.
He found her lacking in feminine assets, yet he still indulged in an ogle? She cast a swift glance beyond him. Brayan must have decided he wanted no part in the abduction. Even she was having second thoughts.
What of Yvette then? No, this must be done.
“Deliberately?” She firmed her mouth, while raising the whip and settling her other hand around the sheath.
Her scheme would still work. It would be more difficult to carry off though. Truth to tell, a great deal more difficult, but she was confident she could do it.
Marquardt’s mouth twisted. “The blame is partially mine. It’s obvious you’re a skinny female, though your attire suggests otherwise. No doubt you’re a hoyden to boot.”
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| Female boots like Adaira would have worn |
Arrogant toad.
Everything he said was true, so why did his words rankle? Mayhap it was his perfectly enunciated speech delivered in tones dripping with censure. She curled her lips. She was about to give him good cause for further disapproval.
Adaira raised the crop and settled into a defensive stance. “I care even less about your opinion of me, than I do the horse shite I stepped in earlier.”
His dark brows swooped together. He glanced downward, kicking the toe of his boot into the ground while shaking his head. “And she swears . . . like a common harlot,” he muttered. “A lack of Godly discipline and moral upbringing, to be sure.”
She scowled at him. “Do you do that often, talk to yourself?”
Wasn’t that a sign of madness? Ewan had hinted Marquardt was unhinged.
He waved his hand languidly at a fly buzzing near his face. “Your parents failed to instill in you the qualities a lady of gentle-breeding ought to possess.”
She pointed the crop at him. “Och, you pompous, Sassenach cur! I don’t care a trow’s hairy bum what you think of me, but you’ll not speak poorly of my parents.”
He swatted at the insect again. Even that was done with controlled precision. One crisp wave right. Another crisp wave left.
Adaira lunged and jabbed the whip in his direction, then danced a few steps backwards. “You dare to speak to me of appropriate behavior?” She laughed. “You? A known spy?”
His pupils dilated in surprise. Or was it irritation?
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| Riding crop with short sword |
Thrust. Retreat.
“You who tried to attack Yvette and abduct her?”
Jab, jab. Retreat. The last lunge brushed his arm.
Instantly Marquardt’s demeanor changed. His face hardened into chiseled lines, his body went rigid, and his eyes narrowed to furious slits. “I’ve had enough of your confounded whip and your false accusations.”
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