Countdown to Virtue and Valor’s Release-21 Days

June 24, 2015

I’m thrilled to share an excerpt from Virtue and Valor (Highland Heather Romancing a Scot Series, Book 2) 

For those who have read the Castle Brides series, you were introduced to Yancy, Earl of Ramsbury and Isobel Ferguson.

Virtue and Valor is their story. 

Throw in Lucan-Rochester, Duke of Harcourt, Tasara Faas, a Highland Gypsy traveller,  and a band of rogue Scots and you have a

Scottish Regency dosed with humor and suspense, and he hero and heroine to book 3, Heartache and Honor.

ENJOY AN EXCERPT

London, England

8 September 1818

 

“There’s nothing for it.” Yancy tipped back his tankard and enjoyed one last bracing pull of dark ale. “It’s off to Craiglocky at first light. Unrest between the clans has escalated steadily since I visited there in July.”

His companion, Lucan-Rochester, Duke of Harcourt offered a non-committal grunt.

Yancy scratched his nose and frowned. “Peculiar, that. In recent years, tribal disputes are rare, even in the Highlands.”

“I am certain you are not overly distressed at the summons.” Harcourt gulped the last of the coffee he’d been nursing between sips of brandy. “You may be Bartholomew Yancy, Earl of Ramsbury and an English lord by birth, my friend, but you’ve displayed a distinct penchant for certain things Scottish.”

Yancy glowered, sending a silent warning.

Harcourt grinned, completely unabashed. “Come now, admit it. You’ve been sniffing about Isobel Ferguson’s skirts for the better part of a year.”

Damn. Will he not let the matter go?

Nonetheless, a stab of expectancy flooded Yancy.

Anticipation always preceded a visit to Craiglocky Keep. Its laird Ewan McTavish, the Viscount Sethwick, hailed as one of Yancy’s closest chums, and Isobel, Sethwick’s sister, was of particular interest.

Possessed of a lively intelligence, she had matured into a magnificent beauty. Graced with cocoa-colored hair, streaked with creamy highlights, her eyes mirrored the shade of a tropical sea at sunset, and her peach-tinted lips . . . well, he’d give his earldom to taste their dewiness.

However, she loathed him.

None, but God in heaven, knew why. Until last December, they had gotten on famously, and he had been certain she harbored a distinct tendre for him.

Holding his tankard, Yancy fingered the smooth rim.

Charming, biddable, and educated, Isobel possessed every attribute a quintessential countess ought to, and he’d been of a mind to pay his address. Until she gave him the cut direct at her sister’s Christmastide ball.

A rakish gleam entered Harcourt’s eyes. “By-the-by, how is your pursuit of the fair Scots lass progressing?”

Tempted to ignore the taunting, Yancy instead lifted a shoulder and feigned nonchalance. “She treats me as if I am a sore-laden leper or the devil himself.”

Harcourt threw back his head and roared with laughter, causing several patrons to turn and stare in their direction.

A dismal substitute for the silken, ivory skin he yearned to trace his fingertips across, Yancy stopped caressing his cup. “The last time we met, I actually sniffed beneath my arms and blew my breath into my hand fearing an unpleasant smell might be the cause of her aversion.”

“Poor sot.” Another robust burst of mirth from Harcourt followed Yancy’s disclosure.

Yancy crossed his legs and returned his mug to the polished table. Tapping his buff-covered knee with slightly ink-stained fingers, he relaxed against his chair and turned his thoughts away from the vixen who had him at sixes and sevens.

Yancy and Harcourt are old friends, and as old friends do, they often banter with one another. What other series have you read where the heroes have been friends? 

Be sure to enter the $25.00 gift card giveaway on the home page of my website HERE