Can unexpected passion and a little ancient magic turn
enemies into lovers?
During a fierce storm on the west coast of Scotland,
Shamus MacKenzie barely survives a galley wreck only to be captured and held
for ransom by the enemy MacDonalds. Aided by the gift of second sight, Maili
MacDonald, sister of the ruthless chief, senses the handsome, dark-haired
stranger will somehow be important in her life. Compelled to help him, she
insists on providing him food and a healer to see to his injuries. She knows
she is daft to fall in love with this captivating warrior after one forbidden
kiss but cannot help herself. With each visit from Maili, Shamus finds his
thoughts consumed by the enchanting lass. Can he convince her to help him
escape the dungeon and prevent the impending battle between the two clans?
My Captive Highlander is also in the Kissing the Highlander anthology.
Excerpt: August 1619
The twenty-oar birlinn
sliced through the rough waters off Scotland's west coast. The cool wind
lashing at him, Shamus MacKenzie glanced up at the dark clouds hovering over
the gray-violet sunset. A storm was fast approaching.
His oldest brother, Cyrus, Chief of Clan MacKenzie, had
sent him and his two brothers, Dermott and Fraser, along with full crews on
their two galleys to escort the Earl of Rebbinglen to Glasgow. Having
accomplished their task five days ago, the brothers and clan members were now
on their way home. The weather had been calm until this night.
Black clouds rolled in faster and faster. Lightning
flashed, near blinding him. They were in for a thrashing.
"Whose canny idea was it to leave Inveraray?"
Fraser grumbled behind him.
Shamus turned, barely able to make out his younger
brother's blue eyes and black hair in the dimness.
He well knew Fraser would've liked to have stayed at
Inveraray for a fortnight with all the lovely ladies. "Cyrus wanted us to
return home forthwith," Shamus said loudly enough to be heard over the
rising wind. If they'd stayed any longer, no doubt his irritable older brother
would've sent a fleet of galleys to fetch them home.
Though now, he wished they had waited a day or two to
continue their journey north.
Thunder boomed and the western wind off the sea blasted
them. The oarsmen heaved and grunted, trying to stay the course as the galley
rode up and down through the giant swells.
"Stay away from the rocks!" Shamus commanded.
The white caps and swirling currents betrayed the dangerous hidden boulders
closer to shore.
The helmsman shouted something Shamus couldn't hear over
the wind.
Drops of rain stung his face, and a moment later,
pummeled him in cold sheets.
Saints, he'd never been at sea in such a quick and terrible
gale. Blood pounded in his ears as he tried to figure out a course of action.
How could he keep his younger brother and his clansmen safe?
Dermott manned the other galley. During a lightning
flash, Shamus' gaze scanned over the rough waters and he glimpsed the other
vessel some distance behind them.
"May God protect us all," he whispered, salty
seawater splashing into his mouth.
Torrents of chill rain drove against them. Though the
sail was down, the fearsome wind, along with the enormous waves, propelled the birlinn eastward, toward the shore and
the treacherous unseen boulders just beneath the churning surface.
"Stay the course!" Shamus commanded,
scrambling over two thwarts and joining the helmsman in the stern. He grabbed
hold of the rudder, helping to steer. He squinted through the rain, able to see
only the outline of the mainland. The torches on shore they'd been using to
help gauge their route had recently been doused in the downpour. The brilliant
flashes of lightning revealed little but the violent sea.
A massive wave crashed into the birlinn and sent it careening into a deep trough. Shouts sounded
all around him as Shamus grappled to keep his hold on the slippery rudder, his
stomach dropping.
Was this the end? Would they all die this night?
"Hold on, Fraser!" he yelled.
The oak hull crashed against the rocks and splintered. The
massive jolt knocked his hands from the rudder and Shamus plummeted overboard
into the icy depths.
Despite the shock, he forced himself to hold his breath,
kick his feet and swim toward the surface. Fear for his brothers and the crews
of both galleys infused him with strength. Fortunately, most of them knew how
to swim, but if some had been hurtled into the rocks, they might be badly
injured.
When his head broke through the seawater, he barely had
time to inhale before another powerful wave crashed over him, driving him down
again. The water roared in his ears. Flailing, he propelled himself to the
surface with his legs.
After inhaling a breath of air, he yelled, "Fraser!"
The lightning overhead illuminated naught in the dim gloaming
but the giant boulders protruding from the sea. Had their clan's other birlinn been smashed to pieces, or had Dermott
and the crew managed to stay offshore enough to avoid the peril? Where were
Fraser and his own crew?
Shamus flung the wet hair from his eyes and yelled his
brother's name again. This time when the lightning flashed, all he saw were
fragments of their birlinn's broken hull
floating out to sea.
"Saints," he hissed. Surely they weren't dead.
"Dear God, protect them," he whispered.
Another great wave rose up west of him. He ducked
beneath the surface to avoid the worst of the hit. The force of it sent him
tumbling deeper. His head and shoulder slammed into a gigantic rock. Pain
pounded through him and his head spun. Feeling the boulder anchored in the sea,
he climbed up it for a breath of air and held tight. When the next wave struck,
he couldn't hold out. The power of it sent him rolling through the waves and
all went black.
Thank you!
Vonda
