Amidst battles, revelations and treachery, is it possible to expect their love to triumph?
Valent made an oath to protect the McLeod clan, however, after years of mistreatments at the Laird’s hands, he questions his obligation to uphold his promise.
When a rival clan attacks and Ariana McLeod’s world is turned upside down. That she’s fallen in love with the handsome archer, Valent, is a complication and a blessing at once.
Targeted Age Group:: 18+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I have always been in love with Scotland. When I visited in 2012, the love turned into an obsession. The thought of living in a time during which men were larger than life. Life in the beautiful Highlands of Scotland is a place I visit regularly in my imagination!
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Mostly from my musings about certain situations that must have or may have happened in Medieval Scotland. I usually muse about situations and how a certain personality would respond to being set in whatever challenges I put them in.
The hallway was dark and Valent stepped carefully to not make any noise to avoid anyone in the household catching him about. A moan sounded and he moved faster toward it.
"Always ready for it, are you not, Lora?" Donall's voice was hoarse. "You are a randy wench."
Valent stopped at hearing Lora's reply. "Only for you, Laird. Yes. Yes!"
She was bent forward over a table, her skirts thrown over her back. Donall took her from behind, ramming into her with force.
Stumbling backward, Valent turned away. How to handle the situation? He contemplated making noise, but then there was a possibility he'd attract more not needed attention. He let out a huff and walked away. Not his business. When he turned the corner Ariana crashed into him and gasped in surprise.
"Ouch. You are crushing my foot." She pushed at his chest and he moved back, too startled to speak. Ariana was more stunning up close than he could have imagined. With creamy skin and of delicate bone structure, she resembled a lovely field flower. She studied his face. "You are pale. Did you see a ghost?" On her tiptoes, she tried to look past him.
"Lady McLeod, you should return to the great room at once." He finally found his voice. "Please."
She pushed her hair behind her shoulder and he could feel his eyes round at the view down her bodice. His mouth became dry. Unaware of her affect on him she tapped her foot. "Move aside, archer. I am going to the kitchen to speak to cook."
"Is there not another way you can go?"
"What? Why are you keeping me from passing? Are you hiding something?" She placed her hand on his arm and attempted to pull him aside. Her fingers were warm and soft on his skin and he almost closed his eyes and prayed she'd never remove it.
"A large rat."
"Oh." She took a step back. "A rat?"
"Aye." He held his hand up about shoulder width apart. "Huge."
Ariana giggled. "That would be a cat if it were that big."
"What goes on here?" Donall McLeod approached from behind Valent and pinned him with a pointed glare. "How dare you stand here and speak to my sister."
"He was protecting me it seems," Ariana responded and shook her head at her brother. "Don't chastise him, it was my fault for arguing over it."
"Protecting you how?" The laird looked from her to him. "Explain."
"He said there was a huge rat just down a bit and that I shouldn't go past," Ariana informed him and pushed past them both. "I am too exhausted to care about a rat the size of a cat. Goodnight, gentlemen."
After she left, Donall moved to stand in front of him and pulled out his sword pushing the tip under Valent's chin. "I've never liked you. No reason really."
The steel cut into his skin and he felt the trickle of blood trail down his neck. Valent didn't move nor did he meet the laird's gaze.
"Whatever you expect to gain from stopping my sister is lost on me. As I would not have cared if she saw me with your precious Lora. You have wanted her all your life have you not? That is the only reason why I take her. I took the whore harder when you came around the corner. I needed you to see how much better I am than you."
Hatred at the man spread through his body. "She is not a whore."
The sword inched deeper into his chin and blood trickled freely down the front of his tunic. Finally Donall pulled it away and Valent pressed his fingers to the cut to staunch the flow.
Donall wiped the blade on the hem of Valent's tunic and leaned forward, his lips to Valent's ear. "Yes, she is."
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