Her Enemy Highlander
In the wilds of Scotland… Impulsive Mairead Buchanan's only goal is to track down the man responsible for her brother's death. Until a shameful encounter with Caird of enemy clan Colquhoun proves a distraction she can't ignore…Nothing could prepare Mairead for the path she's thrown onto when the secrets of a jeweled dagger are revealed and she finds herself kidnapped by this sexy highlander! With Mairead's recklessness a perfect foil to Caird's cool command, can these two enemies set their clans' differences aside and surrender to the desire that rages between them?
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His eyes narrowed and he straightened a little unsteadily. âYouâre nae going awayâ¦now, are you, lass?â
âThereâs been a mistake,â she stated, her voice unsteady, just like her thoughts. âIâmâ¦in the wrong room.â
Though he didnât move any closer to her, his caress on her neck was light. She wasnât free of him, but at least he wasnât grabbing her and dragging her to his bed.
âI doona think there was any mistake just a moment ago. You came to my room. Let me kiss you.â
His fingers made gentle circles, trailing down her neck to her shoulders and back up.
âAnd before I was so clumsy you wanted me to kiss youâ¦more.â
So true. All so confusingly true. But she needed the daggerânot this man, who caused her to want to go and stay at the same time.
I want to say the inspiration for Mairead and Cairdâs story came from a fateful trip to Wales. But it didnât. Not really. Caird is brother to Gaira, who is wife to Robert, who I saw grieving under a tree in Wales (long story). But that doesnât explain much. Except that there are people in my head, and those people want their stories told. Now and all at once. So, although I intended to write about Robertâs friend Hugh, from The Knightâs Broken Promise (stay with me on the people!), I couldnât ignore Mairead, who was about to do something mad.
Well, mad for the rest of us. Not for Mairead. Sheâs impulsive, she makes mistakes and sheâs reckless. When her brother was killed she chased after the murderer. Since she was by herself, I rushed to tell her story in case she got hurt. When Caird showed up I thought, Oh, good, heâll rescue her.
Unfortunately he hates Mairead, he is controlling and he only plays by the rules. When Mairead realises that Caird is just as insufferable and arrogant as the rest of his clan I knew Caird needed rescuing from Mairead.
Then they kissed. They kissed! At that point I gave up and told them to write their own story. I think they did. I donât know; Iâm afraid to look.
NICOLE LOCKE discovered her first romance novels in her grandmotherâs closet, where they were secretly hidden. Convinced that books hidden must be better than those that werenât, Nicole greedily read them. It was only natural for her to start writing them (but now not so secretly). She lives in London with her two children and her husbandâher happily-ever-after.
To my husbandâ
you know what you did.
To my childrenâ
who seriously should have known better.
Contents
ScotlandâSeptember 1296
Mairead Buchanan tried to calm her heart and failed. She didnât even know why she tried. She knew it wasnât possible. It had been pounding like this for over a fortnight and now it was only worse. Inside her thumping heart, grief clawed sharp.
But she didnât have time for grief, didnât have time to be reasonable, or to think. She was about to break; she just needed to do.
This nightmare had to end. And here, tonight, where she stood observing the shadows of a disreputable inn and freezing in the nightâs damp cold, it would.
The candles on the innâs ground floor were finally extinguished. The windows were black; the main shutters were closed. Not even a woman laughing in the distance marred the soft rustling of the night breeze. It was late; it was time.
Yet even now she fought what she had to do. Even now, she wanted to shake herself, to run in circles like a madwoman trying to escape what she had seen, what she had done. What she could not ever repair. Her brother, Ailbert, collapsing to the ground. His eyes going vacant, losing their sight. She clenched her eyes shut. Grief clawed. She clawed back.
It wouldnât do to think of Ailbert now. Her anger or her pain. She must still her heart and retrieve what was stolen from him. It was the only way to save her family from Ailbertâs recklessness. If she didnât retrieve the priceless dagger, the laird would certainly punish her family.
Scotland was being ravaged by war and conflict. Her mother and sisters would never survive the humiliation or the certain banishment from the clan. Without the clan, there was nothing to protect them from the English. They had nowhere else to go. No other family to turn to.
For her familyâs sake, she followed Ailbertâs murderer to the inn. The man had actually paid for a room. Had probably eaten his fill and was now sleeping soundly. Ordinary actions her brother would never do again. Fury swamped Maireadâs grief and she welcomed it. Grief and desperation consumed her, but only anger would get her through this night.
