Highland
Captive
By Alyson McLayne
Publication Date 7/30/2019
“Expertly
crafted… [a] page-turner.”—Publishers Weekly for Highland Conquest
She’d
saved his son.
Could
she save him as well?
Laird
Gavin MacKinnon is a changed man—and not for the better. Ever since his young
son, Ewan, disappeared two years ago, Gavin has grown callous and bitter.
Scouring the countryside, his search leads him to a mysterious woman who
maintains the boy is hers. He decides to take them both and ask questions
later.
Deirdre
MacIntyre will go with the brooding laird if it will keep her son safe. Gavin
has to admit that the beautiful lass has a bond with Ewan, and things aren’t
adding up. When Deirdre’s clan comes to claim her under threat of war, Gavin
has a choice to make: fight for her or let her go.
The
Sons of Gregor MacLeod:
Highland Promise
(Book 1)
Highland Conquest
(Book 2)
Highland Betrayal
(Book 3)
Highland Captive
(Book 4)
More
Praise for Alyson McLayne’s Songs of Gregor MacLeod Series:
“Not
to be missed. Alyson McLayne's writing is simply fabulous!”—Night Owl
Reviews Top Pick, 5 Stars, for Highland Betrayal
“You’ll
be captivated by the humor, passion and adventure… Entertaining from beginning
to end.”—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars, for Highland Conquest
“Suffused
with witty banter, adventure and passion!”—ELIZA KNIGHT, USA Today
bestselling author of the MacDougall Legacy series, for Highland Promise
“Raises
the bar of Scottish-set historical romances.”—BookPage for Highland
Promise
“Adventure,
passion, and hot Scots.”—Booklist for Highland Promise
Alyson
McLayne is a mom of twins and an award-winning writer of
contemporary, historical and paranormal romance. She has been nominated for several
Romance Writers of America contests, including The Golden Heart, The Golden
Pen, The Orange Rose, Great Expectations, The Molly’s and The Winter Rose. She lives in Vancouver, Canada. Visit her at www.alysonmclayne.com,
www.facebook.com/AlysonMcLayne
on Facebook or @AlysonMcLayne on Twitter.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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This giveaway is sponsored by the publisher. Stuck In Books is not responsible for selecting the winner or delivering the prize.
She scanned the crowd, not seeing her target. He
couldn’t just blend in—he was possibly the biggest man she’d ever seen. It was
an unusually warm day, and he’d rolled up his linen sleeves, the tie at his
neck undone. The material had hung open, revealing muscles that rippled and
bulged in his arms and chest.
Developed
wielding the huge broad sword that hung down his spine, no doubt.
The muscles weren’t what frightened her the
most—nor the sword. It was the grim intensity in his face and eyes that
promised retribution…eyes that were the exact same color as her son’s.
That
scared the life out of her.
“Where are you?” she whispered, hearing the
desperation in her voice, the fear that howled like a wounded animal through
her body.
“I’m right behind you, lass, and wondering why
the wife of Lewis MacIntyre, son and heir of the ruthless Laird MacIntyre,
almost ran me down in the middle of the market and has been unable to keep her
gaze off me since. You’re a lovely lass, for sure, but you doona stare at me
with lust in your eyes. ’Tis not a swiving you’re after.”
Deirdre’s stomach clenched, and she would have
run—like a mouse, never the lion she wanted to be—but his hand landed on the
swell of her hip. The pressure of his palm silently ordered her to turn around.
She did. And when she stumbled, his fingers
tightened on her body and steadied her. He watched her with narrowed eyes, his
gaze landing on the pulse that she could feel beating wildly in her neck and on
her trembling lips. She knew that luminous stare—the bright, dazzling blue that
verged on crystalline sea-green. But the eyes she’d been staring into for the
past two years looked back at her lovingly, adoringly. Not with suspicion and
barely hidden enmity.
For him, she stiffened her
spine. For the sake of her son.
“Let go of me. I doona need your help.”
The man’s gaze flicked to hers, and she saw a
growing interest. Speculation. He withdrew his hand and took a step back. She
stared up at him, this time trying to look past those familiar eyes and see
what other similarities she could find in his frightening countenance.
The same long, thick lashes fringed his piercing
gaze; the same shallow dent marked his chin. His hair formed a downward peak in
the middle of his forehead, the same as her son’s. Except Ewan’s hair was
longer and lighter, almost a white-blond. This man had hacked his blond hair
short, so it looked darker and stood up in ragged bristles.
Her eyes drifted down to his mouth. He had lips
like her son’s too, but while Ewan’s were soft and childlike, his had firmed
with age while still keeping their full shape.
That’s where the similarities ended. Her son’s
welcoming smile was nowhere to be seen. Nay, this man looked grim and possibly
cruel. It was there in the twist of his lips, the harshness of his countenance,
the quickness with which he was ready to condemn her.
He expected betrayal, and she suspected he’d even
welcome it, because then he could punish whoever had crossed him.
Aye. A cruel man,
indeed.
“Is your husband here, Lady MacIntyre?”
“He’s here…somewhere.” Just where, she had no
idea. Truth be told, she didn’t expect to see him for days yet, if not weeks.
Which made his insistence that she accompany him to the festival even more
surprising. “You know a great deal about me, but I am at a disadvantage. Who
are you?” she blurted out.
“I’m Gavin MacKinnon, Laird of Clan MacKinnon.
Did you come here looking for me, lass? Is there something you want to tell me?
Some information you want to share?”
The last words sounded
almost hopeful, eager, and that disturbed her as much as the color of his eyes.
Hope implied faith and dreams. Cruel men did not dream—and she wanted him to be
cruel. Aye, if he was a blackheart, she could turn away and never look back.
“Nay,” she said abruptly, her panic rising again.
What
information was he looking for? “And you’re mistaken. I wasn’t
looking at you. I was just…looking.”
The eagerness faded from his eyes, replaced by
disappointment and frustration, even bitterness. It caused an unexpected pang
in her heart. She didn’t like that she’d somehow hurt him and put that
bleakness back into his gaze.
“Aye, you stared at me for a long while. Did you
like what you saw? I’m a big man. Some women mistake that to mean the same as rough.
Is that what you were hoping for, lass? A hard tupping? Did I misunderstand
your interest?”
His tone was harsh, the words callous.
Shock flooded her senses.
Especially as she could see he didn’t mean what he said. He was deliberately
trying to hurt her. To diminish her. And it worked. As much as she tried to
fight it, shame and fear invaded her body. As quick as that, she was back to
being five or ten or thirteen and at the mercy of her mother and siblings.
No one but her family had ever tried to wound her
deliberately. Marrying Lewis and coming to the MacIntyres, despite her young
age, had turned into a blessing. Her husband was distant but not unkind, and
his clan was respectful. They’d even become friendly since she’d been given
Ewan. Her son’s laughter and love had opened everyone’s hearts.
“I doona wish that
from you, sir. I doona wish anything from you other than to be left alone.”
“Everyone wants something, Lady MacIntyre. And
eventually I’ll discover what you want too.”
He nodded once—a curt dip of his head—then moved
past her into the gathering. She held her breath and closed her eyes, making
herself stay still, no matter how much she wanted to turn around and watch him
leave. Her throat tightened, and she felt the pressure of tears building behind
her eyelids.
She would not let them fall. She’d promised
herself she’d never cry again over the hurtful words of cruel men—and women
too. Aye, her mother and siblings had been experts at saying hurtful things.
But this was different. This
was about Ewan.
God almighty,
Lewis. What have you done?
***
Excerpted from Highland Captive by Alyson
McLayne. © 2019 by Alyson McLayne. Used with permission
of the publisher, Sourcebooks
Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
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