My Fierce Highlander will soon be released in audiobook. It will be available for download from Audible, Amazon, and iTunes. I've listened to the whole book and the studio is working on a few minor corrections. The narrator I chose has a really great voice. Do you enjoy listening to audiobooks?
Here is an excerpt from My Fierce Highlander:
Scottish Highlands, 1618
A stiff breeze carried the scent
of bruised grass and blood on its icy breath.
Death.
Gwyneth Carswell dropped into a
crouch and peered through the brambles at the tartan-clad bodies, a dozen or
more, lying in the dusky gloaming. While gathering herbs earlier, she’d heard
the sounds of battle—men shouting, steel clanging, horses screaming.
A chill shook her. The men of
the MacIrwin clan, her distant kin, lived and died only for a skirmish. Her
sheltered upbringing in England had molded her into the person she was, a lover
of peace, but she’d been in the Highlands long enough to expect brutality at
every turn. Thank God her son had stayed in the cottage with Mora.
“More senseless death,” she
whispered, yearning to run and hide in the cottage, curl up beneath the
blankets, and forget she was a healer. Forget all the drained blood and
horrifying wounds that would never heal.
But she must not. She must again
face death all around her. Dread and nausea rising within her, she covered her
nose with a handkerchief. After peering about to make sure she was alone, she
crept onto the soggy moor and forced herself to look at the butchered bodies of
her cousins…and their enemies. Who had they been fighting?
Pressing her eyes closed to
block out the slit throats and other mutilation, she murmured a prayer, both
for their departed souls and for strength that she might keep going.
Please, allow me to save the life of at least one.
A haunting groan floated on the
breeze. A sign? Her prayer answered? Gwyneth froze, listening. The groan
sounded again, straight ahead.
She rushed to the far edge of
the clearing.
Daylight dwindled, but she knew
she’d never before seen the injured man, a large warrior with long dark hair,
obviously from the enemy clan. She could not tear her gaze from his
clean-shaven face, smeared and splattered with blood. Never had she seen such a
striking man. But something more captivated her, something she could only sense
with her woman’s intuition. She yearned for him to open his eyes, but he
didn’t.
Blood soaked through his white
shirt and fine, pale-blue doublet.
Kneeling on the damp ground, she
attempted to press her hand against his chest to feel his heartbeat, but a
rolled-up parchment lay in her way within his doublet. She removed it and
checked his heart. The thump was slow but strong and steady.
Her eyes locked to his face
again. Enticing, yes, but still an enemy.
Wary of him and what message he
carried, she stripped the ribbon from the missive and flattened the thick
paper. In the dim light, she could barely decipher a few of the Gaelic words
inscribed in bold letters across the top.
A peace agreement? Had the MacIrwins ambushed them? She stared down
at the man again, lifted his hand and found a seal ring on his finger. A chief?
For a second, it seemed the very
ground had a pulse. The vibrating sensation disoriented her.
Horses!
Distant hoof-beats grew louder
and thundered in her direction—the MacIrwin reinforcements coming to finish off
their enemies. Her pulse roared in her ears.
If they discovered this man
hanging onto life, they’d cut his throat. Especially if he was a chief who
wanted peace. Gwyneth crammed the parchment back inside his doublet and stood.
She grasped the thick leather
belt that held the man’s plaide in
place at his waist and struggled to drag him a few feet into the yellow
blooming gorse and weeds. Good lord, he was heavy, comprised of honed warrior
muscle. Another tug, then she rolled him down a short incline and behind the
bushes, praying all this shifting wouldn’t worsen his injuries. She spread her
dull-colored skirts and plaid arisaid
over him to conceal the visibility of his light-colored doublet in the dusk.
Her body trembling, she gently
bit her knuckle to quiet her chattering teeth. Please, do not let them find us. She hardly dared to breathe.
Thanks!
Vonda