My Seductive Highlander
by Maeve Greyson
240 pages
Published October 11th 2016
by Loveswept
I loved this book
but I am sad to see the series end. This
book is so beautifully written, witty
and fun to read. I have
a word of advice for you. If you have not read the
first three
books I advise you get them all as you will want to read them
all. The
book dose end on a somber, but happy note as
well. I know how that sound but believe
me if you read all
the books you could probably see this one coming.
This book is Lila’s
turn to be set up by granny, with her very
own highlander. But when granny sets
her mind to
something there is no stopping her. And her ultimate goal
to have
all her grandchildren settled and protected before
she set off on life’s next
journey. Lilia is a strong and
stubborn woman quite a lot like her granny in
some ways.
So she sends Graham to the future to protect Lilia as she
may be
alone if no one goes to her. Lilia is an empathy
so she feels the weight of the
world and sometimes that
darkness threatens to consume her. But Graham may be
just the one to help her with that. If only she will let him.
Now before I ruin
this for you I will leave off here. I hope you
enjoy this book as much as
I did. If you do like this book,
please consider leaving a review. The Authors
really like it
when you do; they value your opinions too.
In this scintillating novel from the author of My Tempting
Highlander (“Another
exciting and heartwarming
time-travel romance.”—Vonnie Davis), the
ladies’ man
of Loch Ness meets a hot-tempered lass who sets
his heart
aflame.
Though part of a legacy of time-traveling sisters, Lilia
Though part of a legacy of time-traveling sisters, Lilia
Sinclair is planted firmly in twenty-first-century
Edinburgh.
Her granny’s matchmaking with thirteenth-century
Highlanders
isn’t about to lure her into the past, especially
as ancient Scotland
enters troubled times. After all, Lilia
is blessed—or cursed—with dire
prophetic visions. To
protect herself, she’s put up an icy emotional
wall no man
could cross—until a pair of gorgeous, rippling arms breaks
right through.
Graham MacTavish is pure trouble. Once the dragon bound
Graham MacTavish is pure trouble. Once the dragon bound
to Loch Ness, he’s transformed into a philanderer of the
first
order. In fact, because of his dalliances with other men’s
wives, a
rival clan wants his head on a pike. Before he
provokes an all-out war,
Graham is banished to the
twenty-first century, where he must win
Lilia’s hand—or
return to die. But after meeting a lass as fierce as any
Highland warrior, Graham knows one thing: life with Lilia,
in any
century, is a fate to embrace.
“Dammit, man! Did ye
no’ think to learn her name afore ye decided to bed her?” Gray MacKenna,
chieftain of Clan MacKenna, moved to the edge of his seat as though ready to
lunge across the room, wrap his hands around Graham’s throat and choke the
livin’ shit out of him.
Graham MacTavish
edged back a step whilst rubbing the nape of his neck. He stole a quick glance about
the room. All eyes were locked on him and ‘twas no small wonder. This was
thrice in a fortnight that the MacKenna had publicly chewed his arse over what
he had honestly deemed as sound choices at the time that he’d made them—but
apparently, once again, he’d chosen poorly.
Dammit all ta hell
and back.
Graham swiped a hand across his mouth, vainly attempting to wipe away any
forthcoming words that might damn him even further. He’d ne’er picked his words
wisely. He thought back to the particular debacle in question. Nay. Neither lass had hinted at their
surnames. Why had the one no’ mentioned her husband was bloody
chieftain to the Buchanans?
Ah well…it doesna
verra well matter now. What’s done is done. He squared his shoulders and locked
his fists to the small of his back. Lifting his chin, he boldly met Gray’s
infuriated glare. “I didna take her to m’bed. We stayed in the stables.”
From the purplish shading of the MacKenna’s face and the vein twitching along the man’s temple, perhaps that was no’ the best defense Graham couldha chosen. He’d better try again. “But ye’ll be pleased to know, I didna lift any of their cattle—nor a single horse this time.”
From the purplish shading of the MacKenna’s face and the vein twitching along the man’s temple, perhaps that was no’ the best defense Graham couldha chosen. He’d better try again. “But ye’ll be pleased to know, I didna lift any of their cattle—nor a single horse this time.”
“I should turn ye
over to the Buchanan and be done wi’ ye.” Gray huffed out a rumbling growl,
fixing Graham with a murderous look. The sorely annoyed chieftain threw himself
back in his ceremonial chair centered on the dais. The great meeting hall fell
silent, all poised to hear what Graham’s punishment would be.
Graham’s gut
tightened. That would no’ be good at all t’be turned over to the Buchanans. But
if that was the MacKenna’s wish…
Snorting out a silent
humorless laugh, Graham shook his head. ’Twould be a damn shame to die o’er one
such as that lass and her maid.The women’s shrill tirades and dead aims with
clods of dried horse shit on the morning after the quite enjoyable romp had
taught him a thing or two—mainly that ye best ne’er get too deep in yer cups
when charmin’ the lasses because their druthers could sorely change when ye
sobered up and faced them the next day.
A soft clearing of a
throat drew Graham’s attention to the chieftain’s wife sitting quietly at her
husband’s side. Lady Trulie smoothed a hand atop her husband’s tensed forearm
and sat taller in her chair. “Now, now. We can’t do that, Gray. You know what
would happen if we turned him over to the Buchanans.”
She leaned forward
the slightest bit, staring down at him from the raised platform as though he
were a disobedient child. “We understand your need to experience all that you
missed while cursed but—” Lady Trulie’s face darkened like a building storm.
“—dammit, Graham, pull your head out of your ass and stop endangering the peace
and safety of this clan just because you can’t keep your britches on and your
hands off what belongs to somebody else.”
Britches? What the hell are britches?
Perhaps the Lady Trulie was referrin’ to his trews? Actually, he’d nay even
removed his léine
while samplin’ the sweet lasses but perhaps now was nary the time to get into
the particulars.
Graham slightly bowed
to his chieftain’s wife. “I am truly sorry to bring such strife to this clan
that has so graciously taken me in. Ye ken my fealty to the MacKenna is true.
I’d ne’er wish to cause the clan harm nor bring dishonor to the name.”
“He wants yer head on
a pike, ye ken?” The MacKenna’s voice had calmed to a more congenial snarl. He
even came close to smiling as he covered his wife’s hand still resting atop his
forearm. “And I can no’ say that I blame the man. Ye bedded both his wife and his
mistress under his verra nose.” The chieftain stretched forward and jabbed a
finger toward the center of Graham’s chest. “And perhaps ye didna personally
help yerself to any of the Buchanan livestock, but whilst ye were busy dippin’
yer wick, Angus managed to lead away the Buchanan’s favorite pair of roans.”
Aye. Well—there was
that.
Said roans were currently resting quite comfortably in their new stalls in the
MacKenna stables. “Perhaps, we could return them?” Graham turned and waggled a
brow at Angus who was currently doing his damnedest to stay hidden in the
shadows of the gallery over-hanging the right side of the crowded meeting room.
“If Angus releases them close enough to Buchanan Keep, the pair would surely
find their way back to their stable.”
Angus yelped as
Mother Sinclair came up behind him and latched hold of his ear. She yanked him
out of the shadows, jerked him to the center of the room and firmly positioned
him in place beside Graham. Leaning her slight body against the support of her
twisted staff, she shook a bony finger in both their faces. “Those who play
together, pay together.” She stamped her staff hard against the stone flooring,
the blue crystal ensnared in the claw of roots in its top sparking with an
angry blue-white glow.
Ever so slowly, she
ambled over to the head of the room, hitched her way up the narrow stone steps
and eased herself down into the smaller seat beside Lady Trulie’s chair.
The thick braid
knotted at the base of the old woman’s neck shimmered with a silvery white
gleam beneath the flickering light of the torches as she nodded toward Graham.
“We owe him protection…guidance while he adapts. He’s wild as a buck deer in
rut after being trapped in the form of a dragon and locked to the land around
Loch Ness for over three centuries—but he was Ronan’s protector, his best
friend. And Ronan is now family.” Granny Sinclair leveled the softly glowing
crystal of her twisted cane until it pointed directly at Graham. “But you keep
endangering Clan MacKenna with your thoughtless actions and we don’t owe you a
damn thing, Graham.”
Aye, well, he’d no’
exactly been entirely shackled to the land around Loch Ness. After all, he’d
traveled quite freely whene’er he’d kept to the sea. Graham forced the memories
of those long ago adventures to the back of his mind. He was quite thankful
that part of his life was well behind him. He cleared his throat and remained
silent. He’d best concentrate on gettin’ his arse out of this current
mess—especially now that Granny Sinclair was involved.
Granny’s gaze shifted
and she angled her staff at Angus. “And you know better than to pull such
stunts against an allied clan. What the hell were you thinking, Angus? You’re
supposed to keep him out of trouble.”
Angus tucked his chin
to his chest and anxiously shuffled back and forth in place. Sidling closer to
Graham, he shot him a dark, threatening look. “I’ll ne’er harken a single word
from yer lyin’ arse again, ye wicked bastard,” he hissed under his breath.
Still fidgeting in
place, Angus hooked his thumbs in his belt. His face deepening to a ruddier
shade as he turned his back to the dais and continued the shielded rant in a
huffing whisper. “And if ye wish to return those horses, yer own goat-swivin’
arse can do it alone. I’ll no’ be goin’ back there. I nearly took an arrow in
me tail.”
Graham stood taller,
rolling his shoulders at Angus’s words. He’d no’ let another be held
responsible for his own behavior. Best get on with this and find out what his
punishment was to be. “Leave Angus be. Me actions are me own.”
Mother Sinclair’s
narrow-eyed gaze slid aside to meet with Lady Trulie’s. The women smiled in
unison—cold, calculating smiles that stabbed a sense of dread deep in the
center of Graham’s heart. May
the gods have mercy on me soul and doubly watch over me arse. He
shivered against the sudden eeriness to the air, chilling him to the bone.
“Pray speak my fate. I accept whate’er ye decide. I ne’er shirk my
responsibilities, ye ken that well enough.”
“It pleases me
greatly to hear that. Doesn’t it you, my husband?” Trulie turned and smiled at
Gray with a slow meaningful nod.
“Aye.” Gray flexed
his hands then curled his fingers over the ends of the carved arms of his
chair. His gaze trailed about the hall, studying the many folk standing along
the walls and seated at the long rows of trestle tables. He slowly rose,
stepped forward then stopped atop the last step of the raised stone platform as
though he were about to announce clan war.
“After much
consideration and consultation…” Gray paused, tossing back a quick glance at Lady
Trulie and Mother Sinclair before returning his attention to Graham and Angus.
“I have decided upon yer punishment since ye seem so incapable of exhibiting
the least bit of self-control.”
Angus hid his mouth
by rubbing the tip of his nose with his fist; his voice dropped to an even
deeper whisper. “Oy, yer doomed straight t’hell now, man.”
Graham eased a step
forward and threw out his chest. “Aye. Am I to be turned over to the Buchanans
then—to face the pike or the dungeons?”
“Oh no, my friend.”
The MacKenna shook his head. “I have decided on something much worse. Ye shall
face the severest punishment of all. A life sentence, in fact.”
Graham swallowed
hard. He didna suppose he could blame the man. After all, a clan could no’
verra well go to war over the womanizing ways of one individual—especially when
that individual wasna even blood kin. “Aye. I would hear it then. What is this
severe punishment I’m ta receive?”
“Marriage.”
·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠· Maeve Greyson·٠•●
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠·
No one has the power to shatter your dreams unless you
give it to them. That’s been Maeve Greyson’s mantra since
she was a girl. When she’s not at the full time day job at the
steel mill, Maeve’swriting romances about sexy Highlanders
and the women who tame them. Tucked away in a five acre
wood, Maeve listens to the wind singing through the trees
and hears her characters telling their stories. Her work is
proofed by her sharp-eyed dog, Jasper, and her greatest
supporter is her long suffering husband of over thirty-five
years who’s learned not to throw away any odd sticky notes
filled with strange phrases.
give it to them. That’s been Maeve Greyson’s mantra since
she was a girl. When she’s not at the full time day job at the
steel mill, Maeve’swriting romances about sexy Highlanders
and the women who tame them. Tucked away in a five acre
wood, Maeve listens to the wind singing through the trees
and hears her characters telling their stories. Her work is
proofed by her sharp-eyed dog, Jasper, and her greatest
supporter is her long suffering husband of over thirty-five
years who’s learned not to throw away any odd sticky notes
filled with strange phrases.
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