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Can the love of a lifetime be forged
in the aftermath of bloody battle?
Ian
Kerr dreams of the blue-eyed gaze that met his in a strange, still moment on
the field of battle. Brodick MacFarland, young and inexperienced, yet old
enough to fight for his clansmen, saves a wounded man left for dead by his kin.
Now, five years later, Brodick is a trained physician and an adult who knows
his own mind. Fortunately for Ian, the clash between the clans still rages on,
leaving Brodick fair game. Will Brodick come with Ian of his own accord or will
this educated warrior continue to evade capture?
Reader
Rating: 4 stars (6 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating: 4 Lips
EXCERPT
Thunder
awoke Ian Kerr from a restless sleep haunted by troubled blue eyes. He wanted
to reach out to the owner of those eyes, tell the man that it would be all
right. "All right," he mumbled, forcing heavy lids up. His head felt
thick and his vision blurred.
Lying
still, he forced himself to assimilate his surroundings as his head and vision
slowly cleared. The floor beneath him was earth, the wall he lay against as
well. A fire crackled nearby, providing warmth and a dim flickering light. His
belly rumbled loudly, echoing the thunder.
Last
he'd known, his brother Andrew, and Agnes MacFarland had left him to cover
their retreat. How had he come to lie in an abandoned shepherd's bothy? Still,
it was out of the storm that raged outside, and for that he was grateful. A
savory scent lingered in the air, and Ian shifted upright to find the source of
that enticing odor.
"Ahh…"
Agony seared his chest, and he clutched at it, marveling as his fingers found a
neat row of stitches. The pain jolted his muddled brain and memories fought
slowly to the surface. "The battle…" The damned MacFarlands had left
him to die on the roadside when one of their untrained whelps landed a lucky
blow with sword he'd been scarce able to lift.
"Aye,
easy there." The soft burr drew his gaze to a thin man in a MacFarland
tartan kneeling near the small fire. The youth filled a bowl with pottage and
crossed the small space between them. The voice was familiar, the figure
strange.
"Where
am I?"
"Boden's
old place. I couldna get ye any further from the road. Wasna safe to take ye to
the farm." When the youth knelt and offered him the bowl, Ian was struck
by deep blue eyes, the steely blue of the sky before sunset, set in a fine
boned face, beardless, thin, fragile nearly, and very familiar.
"Ye're a MacFarland." He reached
automatically for his blade, though the stripling was hardly threatening in his
appearance. Memories stirred of the recently fought battle. Those were the eyes
from his dream… "I remember ye from the fight. Ye were in Andrew's bride's
guard."
Laughter lurked in the blue eyes before the youth ducked his head. "I'm Brodick MacFarland. Agnes is my sister." His cheeks flushed slightly, though it could have been a trick of the flickering fire.
Laughter lurked in the blue eyes before the youth ducked his head. "I'm Brodick MacFarland. Agnes is my sister." His cheeks flushed slightly, though it could have been a trick of the flickering fire.
Brodick
returned to the fire and filled another bowl of pottage for himself. Ian
surveyed him cautiously. His instinct said the other man was no threat…but
their families were at war. "Ye fetched the doctor for me?" Silently,
he ate a few bites of pottage, studying the slim figure, the thin chest and
wiry arms. This was no warrior, though he could plainly see the man wasn't as
young as he'd first thought.
Brodick
met his gaze again. "I sewed ye up meself. I'm a student at Aberdeen. I'm
sorry if 'tis no' perfectly done. But I didna dare let anyone know you
lived."
Ian
nodded. "Why?" This youth hadn't participated in the mild battle;
Ian's injury had been caused by a startled looking stripling who'd vomited into
the heather and thistle at the roadside immediately afterward. Ian's clansmen
had left him, their need to escort Andrew's bride to safety most urgent. He
caught a sidelong glance from Brodick, and something in the darkening gaze sent
a flicker of heat to his groin. Clan MacFarland was known for beauty in a land
where brawn was prized, Ian wouldn’t have been so smitten with the sainted
Agnes, but this one was different…special. Where the other MacFarlands shared
his creamy pale skin and plump rosy lips, instead of the deep auburn hair the
rest of the MacFarlands sported, this one had been graced with a wild mane of
black curls, cropped at the shoulder. Ian's fingers itched to bury themselves
in those curls, to test their silky appearance with his fingertips.
Reader Reviews at All
Romance
Submitted
By: milica_who on Jan
30, 2015
I
like highlanders,so this one worked for me...nothing special, but I liked the
setting,language was archaic and in the same time understandable, so I
recommend it...
Submitted
By: lady.kestrel on
Jan 23, 2015
A
change of pace - this is the first historical I've come across from Lee Brazil.
It's nicely done, and the Scots dialect isn't too overblown, as some authors
have a tendency to do. I enjoyed it & would recommend it.
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