Highland Hellion
by Mary Wine
Series: Highland Weddings, #3
Genre: Hitorical Romance
Release Date: June 6, 2017
KATHERINE CAREW:
· Illegitimate daughter of an English earl
· Abducted to Scotland at age 14
· No family, no reputation...
· No rules
ROLFE MCTAVISH:
· Heir to an honorable Highland laird
· Can’t believe how well tomboy Kate can fight
· About to learn how much of a woman she really is
Scotland is seething with plots, the vengeful Gordons are spoiling for a fight, and the neighboring clans are at each other’s throats. All it takes is a passionate hellion with a penchant for reckless adventure to ignite the Highlands once more.
“Never seen a female do that before.”
Neither had Rolfe. She was in the saddle as securely as any of his men.
“It’s not natural.”
“Nay, it is no’.”
“I’d say it’s impressive,” Rolfe interjected. “And it comes from training.”
His men weren’t sure what to make of his comment. They considered him, two of them stroking their beards while Rolfe watched her reach the crest of the embankment and go over it. She kept motion with the horse expertly, her body moving with lithe, fluid grace that spoke of strength and training. It raised his cock and his opinion of her.
Cedric was staring at him. Rolfe shrugged. “No one learns to swing up into the saddle without working at it.”
His men agreed, even if a fair number of them were uncomfortable with the topic. Rolfe found his mind lingering on her long after the sound of her horse diminished into the distance.
“Are we lifting cattle or no’?” Cedric asked at last.
Rolfe found himself hesitating to answer his man. He was torn now. Something was prodding him to go up to Castle MacPherson.
“Ye’re thinking of going after her.” It was Adwin who spoke. His captain knew him too well, it seemed.
Rolfe turned to lock gazes with the man. “Someone should take her in hand.”
“Aye, she was in luck that it was us who caught her,” Adwin agreed as he locked his hands around his wide belt and rocked back on his heels. It was his favorite position for thinking. “And still, someone has been teaching her, so they bloody well know what she does.”
“The MacPhersons must have a priest with a finer sense of humor than we have on McTavish land,” Cedric added.
“It just means she’s been playing at being a lad, and Marcus MacPherson has let the matter go. Priests do nae venture into the training yards often,” Rolfe said.
“Maybe Marcus did nae notice.”
“No’ a chance,” Rolfe answered. “Marcus is no fool.”
“Ye took him by surprise sure enough,” Adwin started, to the delight of the men.
Rolfe was used to them recalling the tale. Today, he didn’t take as much heart in it. Yes, there had been a time years ago when he’d managed to sneak up on Marcus MacPherson while the man was distracted by his new wife.
“I’d be a fool to think I could do it a second time,” he announced. “And double so for thinking Marcus does no’ know that is a lass.”
“So it’s true then,” Adwin announced. “Me cousin said the MacPhersons have an English hellion living among them. I thought it was just a good story.”
“English, ye say?” Rolfe asked.
“No’ a chance,” Cedric argued. “Now, a Highlander lass might…” He held up a thick finger. “Just might have the strength to learn to keep up with the lads. But English? Nay. Their blood is too thin.”
“Who else would be allowed to train like a lad?” Adwin insisted.
Rolfe didn’t listen too closely to his men as they began to debate the shortcomings of the English. His mind was full of the girl and the way she’d blinked when he touched her chin. Damned if there hadn’t been something strangely hypnotic about it. Like he’d touched a fae creature.
He chuckled at his own whimsy.
She was just a lass, and a foolish one at that. If anything, he should go home and pen a letter to Marcus MacPherson, because Rolfe wasn’t going to ride up to MacPherson Castle. Marcus would enjoy slapping him in shackles, no doubt. Rolfe had once held Helen Grant for ransom. It was all in good fun, in a Highland fashion. Helen had never been in any real danger. That was a point of honor.
Colum Gordon was a different matter. The man had lost touch with the world around him, cradling his vengeance for his dead son and blind to the fact that Bhaic had killed Lye Rob for a just reason.
Rolfe was torn. Somehow, he felt protective toward his nameless fae creature. She was playing at a dangerous game, riding at night when clansmen were out raiding. More than one man would consider her a fine prize, and if she had no family to notice her missing, her fate might be a grim one.
“Let’s get the cattle,” he commanded in frustration. Marcus deserved the dig at his pride for allowing any female to train in his yard. Look what sort of recklessness it had bred in the lass! The bloody Gordons would not be so kind to her if they found her.
Hellion?
More like hell-bound. Her behavior was going to land her in her grave.
Neither had Rolfe. She was in the saddle as securely as any of his men.
“It’s not natural.”
“Nay, it is no’.”
“I’d say it’s impressive,” Rolfe interjected. “And it comes from training.”
His men weren’t sure what to make of his comment. They considered him, two of them stroking their beards while Rolfe watched her reach the crest of the embankment and go over it. She kept motion with the horse expertly, her body moving with lithe, fluid grace that spoke of strength and training. It raised his cock and his opinion of her.
Cedric was staring at him. Rolfe shrugged. “No one learns to swing up into the saddle without working at it.”
His men agreed, even if a fair number of them were uncomfortable with the topic. Rolfe found his mind lingering on her long after the sound of her horse diminished into the distance.
“Are we lifting cattle or no’?” Cedric asked at last.
Rolfe found himself hesitating to answer his man. He was torn now. Something was prodding him to go up to Castle MacPherson.
“Ye’re thinking of going after her.” It was Adwin who spoke. His captain knew him too well, it seemed.
Rolfe turned to lock gazes with the man. “Someone should take her in hand.”
“Aye, she was in luck that it was us who caught her,” Adwin agreed as he locked his hands around his wide belt and rocked back on his heels. It was his favorite position for thinking. “And still, someone has been teaching her, so they bloody well know what she does.”
“The MacPhersons must have a priest with a finer sense of humor than we have on McTavish land,” Cedric added.
“It just means she’s been playing at being a lad, and Marcus MacPherson has let the matter go. Priests do nae venture into the training yards often,” Rolfe said.
“Maybe Marcus did nae notice.”
“No’ a chance,” Rolfe answered. “Marcus is no fool.”
“Ye took him by surprise sure enough,” Adwin started, to the delight of the men.
Rolfe was used to them recalling the tale. Today, he didn’t take as much heart in it. Yes, there had been a time years ago when he’d managed to sneak up on Marcus MacPherson while the man was distracted by his new wife.
“I’d be a fool to think I could do it a second time,” he announced. “And double so for thinking Marcus does no’ know that is a lass.”
“So it’s true then,” Adwin announced. “Me cousin said the MacPhersons have an English hellion living among them. I thought it was just a good story.”
“English, ye say?” Rolfe asked.
“No’ a chance,” Cedric argued. “Now, a Highlander lass might…” He held up a thick finger. “Just might have the strength to learn to keep up with the lads. But English? Nay. Their blood is too thin.”
“Who else would be allowed to train like a lad?” Adwin insisted.
Rolfe didn’t listen too closely to his men as they began to debate the shortcomings of the English. His mind was full of the girl and the way she’d blinked when he touched her chin. Damned if there hadn’t been something strangely hypnotic about it. Like he’d touched a fae creature.
He chuckled at his own whimsy.
She was just a lass, and a foolish one at that. If anything, he should go home and pen a letter to Marcus MacPherson, because Rolfe wasn’t going to ride up to MacPherson Castle. Marcus would enjoy slapping him in shackles, no doubt. Rolfe had once held Helen Grant for ransom. It was all in good fun, in a Highland fashion. Helen had never been in any real danger. That was a point of honor.
Colum Gordon was a different matter. The man had lost touch with the world around him, cradling his vengeance for his dead son and blind to the fact that Bhaic had killed Lye Rob for a just reason.
Rolfe was torn. Somehow, he felt protective toward his nameless fae creature. She was playing at a dangerous game, riding at night when clansmen were out raiding. More than one man would consider her a fine prize, and if she had no family to notice her missing, her fate might be a grim one.
“Let’s get the cattle,” he commanded in frustration. Marcus deserved the dig at his pride for allowing any female to train in his yard. Look what sort of recklessness it had bred in the lass! The bloody Gordons would not be so kind to her if they found her.
Hellion?
More like hell-bound. Her behavior was going to land her in her grave.
Acclaimed author Mary Wine has written over 30 works of Scottish Highland romance, romantic suspense and erotic romance. An avid history-buff and historical costumer, she and her family enjoy participating in historical reenactments. Mary lives in Yorba Linda, California with her husband and two sons.
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