HIGHLAND WARRIOR
by Heather McCollum
Sons of Sinclair, #2
Publication Date: April 27, 2021
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Love
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Amara, Historical, Highlander, Romance
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SYNOPSIS
Joshua Sinclair was once the fiercest and most notorious warrior of the mighty Sinclair clan of Northern Scotland. But now there’s nothing and no one that can make him take up arms again. Except a beautiful woman, it seems.
When Kára Flett, daughter of a fallen Norse chief, finds herself unexpectedly sheltering the strongest, most brutal warrior in the land, she throws together a risky and outrageous plan to bring him to her side. Threats of violence bounce right off him. Offers of gold seem to entice him even less. Desperate enough to use the pleas of the village children to sway him, she’s shocked when he’s completely unmoved. There’s only one tactic left for her: seduction.
Her hasty proposition falls completely by the wayside, though, as she and the Highlander come together in a carnal inferno. But bringing him into her life also brings his enemies to her clan’s doorstep—the very clan Kára is trying to protect. And as their feelings deepen, Joshua will have to decide between duty and love once and for all.
EXCERPT
Joshua grabbed the blanket off the wool tick
that he had slept on next to Fuil and folded it around his waist into a mockery
of a pleated wrap. It looked ridiculous, the brightly stitched flowers against
his large form.
He had never been deceived by a woman before,
or a man, for that matter. His brothers and he had played pranks on one another
growing up, but he hadn’t anticipated a trick by the lass. He had not
anticipated her asking him to lead her people to their deaths in a futile
fight, either. Why the hell else would she have led you to her tupping den? Was
it all a farce to get him to stay on Orkney?
Joshua’s fist hit a hanging pail, the metallic
twang loud in the quiet barn. Cracked, it fell to the earth with the force. Was
there no limit to Chief Kára Flett’s boldness?
He looked to Fuil who had tossed his head at
the explosive sound. “And ye let her strip me naked.” The bay horse raised his
hoof to scrape the stall door. “Damn woman,” he said from between clenched
teeth.
He pushed through the barn door, and the icy
wind of the desolate landscape stole his breath. Why the hell wasn’t he back at
Girnigoe Castle right now? Because you let a bonny lass trick you, you arse.
Stalking, completely naked under the blanket, his damn ballocks pulled up
higher than when he had to swim in a frost-edged loch, Joshua strode across
toward the hill. The bottoms of his feet burned with cold as he crunched
through the thin layer of snow and frost, his fury the only thing heating him.
Aunt Merida would scold him for risking
illness. He knew that God did not protect him more than other men. ’Twas a
legend made by his da, but he would not die from something as piddling as cold,
even if he seemed more sensitive to it. Besides, the fire of his anger beat
away the attacking wind.
Down the other side of the slope he saw a lad
who looked like the one who had grazed him with the thrown dagger outside the
tavern. The boy ran into the door of the underground cottage where he’d left
Kára standing with her family last night. She better be in there. Along with
his clothes and Sinclair sword. He jogged down the slope and stepped through
the door. The heat from the central fire washed over him, but what stopped him
from moving farther inside was the crowd, the very…short…crowd. All of them
sitting across the floor, perfectly quiet and still, except for a few who
wiggled in place. “Joshua Sinclair…” Kára’s voice shot toward him from the
doorway of the bedchamber. “Meet the children of Hillside.”
Joshua swallowed down the curse on his tongue,
glaring at Kára. She met his gaze unabashedly and then nodded to one little
lass who stared back at her. The child looked to be about five years old. Curls
framing her round face, the wee one came forward holding a jar. “Jam from my
móðir, my mum,” she said, tilting her chin high. He stood still, unsure what to
do. With a determined frown, the child shook the jar before him. Joshua forced
his fist to relax enough to unfurl his fingers and take the jar. The little
girl flashed him a smile and turned, sitting back down among the throng.
There must have been twenty children in there,
perhaps more. A lad stood next, serious in face, with a wooden sword strapped
to his side. “For your mighty horse,” he said, handing Joshua a turnip. “I
heard he is fond of them.” Joshua nodded and then focused on balancing the
vegetable on the top of the jar.
Next stood an older lass with a knitted woolen
scarf. She walked toward him, her arms extended. “I made it,” she said, giving
him a shy smile.
One by one, they rose, each one of them
handing something to him in some sort of tribute until a pile of wool, dried
flowers, food, and painted stones balanced against his bare chest. He would
have lowered them to the ground but was afraid they’d topple and the loosely
tied blanket covering his loins would fall.
When the last child sat, Kára crossed her arms
over her chest, her feet braced in a battle stance. “I thought you might want
to meet the children who will be forced to work on Lord Robert’s new palace
this spring. Without pay. Without food. Without the ability to say no.”
He held all the little gifts in silence. Kára
clapped her hands together once, and the children stood as if they’d rehearsed
this attack on his conscience. They formed a line to leave, each one stopping
before him to curtsy or bow.
“Please stay,” the little girl who brought the
jam said.
“I can help you with your horse,” the
turnip-gifting lad said.
“I can knit you another plaid in wool,” the
older girl said, giving a curtsy.
“I think you are the strongest person alive,”
said a little lass with wide eyes.
“We need you on our side.”
“Take us to victory,” said a boy who was just
shy of being called a man. “I will fight with you.” The smattering of freckles
over the bridge of his nose brought a hollow twisting to Joshua’s stomach. The
boy had no idea of the ghosts he conjured within him. All the children plucked
at Joshua’s resolve.
He looked up at Kára, knowing it had been her
plan. He frowned, his gaze rising to where she maintained her stance in the
bedroom doorway. Her brother, Osk, peeked by her shoulder along with the
younger lad who had been waiting outside, apparently on guard to alert them of
his coming. Kára did not look smug nor victorious. She looked damned
determined.
ABOUT HEATHER MCCOLLUM
Heather McCollum is an award winning, historical paranormal and YA romance writer. She earned her B.A. in Biology, much to her English professor’s dismay. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood of 2009 Golden Heart finalists. The ancient magic and lush beauty of Great Britain entrances Ms. McCollum’s heart and imagination every time she visits. The country’s history and landscape have been a backdrop for her writing ever since her first journey across the pond. When she is not creating vibrant characters & magical adventures on the page, she is roaring her own battle cry in the war against ovarian cancer. Ms. McCollum recently slayed the cancer beast and resides with her very own Highland hero, rescued golden retriever & 3 kids in the wilds of suburbia on the mid-Atlantic coast.
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