Authors: Lord of the Isles
Amanda Scott
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Copyright © 2005 by Lynne Scott-Drennan
Excerpt from
Prince of Danger
copyright © 2005 by Lynne Scott-Drennan.
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First eBook Edition: May 2005
ISBN: 978-0-446-54979-0
Contents
Acclaim for Amanda Scott and Her Breathtaking Novels
HIGHLAND PRINCESS
“[A] captivating . . . mix of romance, adventure, humor, courage, and passion. . . . A MUST-read.”
—The Best Reviews
“A dynamic story . . . Those who desire a lusty battle of wills will thrill to the lovers’ personal feud.”
—
Romantic Times BOOKClub
“Powerful . . . Exciting . . . Loved it.”
—
Romantic Review
“Five stars! Grips the audience from the onset and never lets go . . . Delightful.”
—
Affaire de Coeur
“A fabulous medieval Scottish romance . . . a unique heroine who is more than just feisty.”
—
Midwest Book Review
THE REIVER’S BRIDE
“Features the same intriguing mix of romance, adventure, and a sprinkling of magic as the ‘wee folk’ continue to play matchmaker with mortals.”
—
Booklist
“TOP PICK! . . . With a master storyteller’s pen, Scott deftly melds witty dialogue, the majesty of Scotland, and a wee bit of magic in this excellent and imaginative romance.”
—
Romantic Times BOOKClub
“A wonderful tale that will have readers in stitches . . . Full of humor, courage, and passion . . . a must-read.”
—RomRevToday.com
“As always, the author manages to blend magic, mystery, romance, and adventure with a deft hand.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“Fun and entertaining . . . combining suspense and romance, with a generous helping of magic.”
—Old Book Barn Gazette
HIGHLAND BRIDE
“A great adventure hero . . . and a sweet and believable romance . . . This is a fun romp through Highland Scotland.”
—RomanceReadersConnection.com
“Witty and fun . . . amusing and engaging . . . This was a very good read.”
—HistoricalRomanceWriters.com
“
Highland Bride
smoothly presents a bit of everything: romance, suspense, mystery, humor . . . Scott provides her leading characters with plenty of internal and external conflict to make them most interesting.”
—RomRevToday.com
ABDUCTED HEIRESS
“A vivid Scottish setting, an engaging battle of wits, and a dash of fantasy all come together beautifully.”
—Booklist
“Totally engaging . . . highly charged romance, snappy repartee, memorable characters, and some wild adventures . . . a nonstop read.”
—
Romantic Times BOOKClub
“Ms. Scott soars through her story with excitement.”
—Rendezvous
“Filled with adventure, fantasy, and the wonder of love.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
HIDDEN HEIRESS
“An exciting work of romantic suspense . . . a wonderful novel.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Sensual . . . a well-written, recommended read.”
—Romantic Times
“Amanda Scott has done it again! . . . This is the perfect combination of reality and legend.”
—Rendezvous
“Vivacious . . . fluid and lyrical . . . a whirling, twirling read that’s as haunting as the beautiful skirl of bagpipes.”
—RomanticFiction.com
“Doesn’t miss a beat . . . plenty of intrigue, suspense, and romance . . . a very satisfying and entertaining read.”
—TheWordonRomance.com
“Scott’s fans will be glad to see this one.”
—Southern Pines Pilot (NC)
Highland Princess
The Secret Clan: Reiver’s Bride
The Secret Clan: Highland Bride
The Secret Clan: Hidden Heiress
The Secret Clan: Abducted Heiress
Border Bride
Border Storm
Border Fire
Highland Spirits
Highland Treasure
Highland Secrets
Highland Fling
Dangerous Lady
Dangerous Games
Dangerous Angels
The Bawdy Bride
Dangerous Illusions
The Rose at Twilight
To Terry, Jim, David, & Steve,
For being there when it really counted.
Thank you, one and all.
(Oh, and thanks for the solar panel, too!)
During the fourteenth century, the surname Stewart was in transition from an occupational term to a surname. Robert the Steward assumed the throne in 1371 as Robert II, progenitor of the Stewart dynasty of Scotland and England. Robert’s daughter, the princess Margaret, went by the name of Lady Margaret Stewart.
For readers curious about canonical hours mentioned in the text, in winter the hour of None, at one-thirty, was a time of prayers for relatives and friends, followed at two by the midday meal. Vespers, at four-thirty, was evening prayer, and supper came afterward.
For those who like to know how to pronounce the names and places mentioned in
Lord of the Isles,
please note the following:
Ardtornish = Ard-TOR-nish
Chalamine = HAH-la-meen
Creag na Corps
= Craig nah core
Duart = DOO-art
Eilean Mòr = EE-lee-an MORE
Gillean = Jill-ANE
Hebrides = HEH-bri-deez
Isla (or its present-day spelling, Islay) = EE-lah
Lochbuie = Lock-BOO-ee
Lubanach = LOO-ban-och
Maclean = Mac-LANE
Macleod = Mac-LOUD
Reaganach = RAY-gan-och
Scotland, the Highlands & Western Isles, Spring 1370
T
he unruly night turned suddenly terrifying when a lightning bolt ripped across the black heavens, followed instantly by a deafening crack of thunder that all but muted the pelting din of the rain. The storm that had muttered, growled, and spat at the lone, miserable rider throughout the afternoon and evening, attacked with a vengeance, startling him and his horse so much that it nearly unseated him.
Struggling to keep his own fear from further terrifying the poor beast, he forced calm into his voice and firm steadiness into the hand that held the reins, only to be nearly unseated again when great flickering branches of fresh lightning, one after another, clawed and stabbed the world around him, slashing sky and land amidst cracks of thunder so loud it was as if the gods beat drums inside his head.
His horse, mad now with terror, reared and plunged, in grave danger of hurting itself or hurling him into oblivion, because the narrow track, although serviceable enough in daylight with rain spattering him in irregular bursts, now boiled and rushed beneath them like a snowmelt river in spring spate. With footing precarious, he fought to bring the frightened animal under control, succeeding only when a lull occurred as suddenly as the onslaught had. The rain eased to a drizzle.
Knowing that the storm was as likely as not to renew its fury, he knew, too, that the longer he stayed in the open, the greater the risk to his safety. More than once during the past four hours, he had berated himself for pressing on from Glen Shiel in the face of such strong storm warnings. But he had wanted to reach Kyle Rhea and the ferry crossing to the Isle of Skye before nightfall so that he could return his borrowed horse and sail home to Lochbuie.
However, much as he wanted to feel his own boat beneath him again, no man of sense would risk oarsmen or vessel, not to mention himself, by trying to pole a ferry or row a longboat anywhere tonight. He needed to find shelter, and quickly.
By noon that day, the clouds had hung so low over nearby hills as to make him wonder idly if, by standing atop his saddle, he might touch them with his whip. Then darkness had drawn nearer, the clouds had turned purple-black, and the winds had attacked, roiling them into frenzied harbingers of what he presently endured.
The wind chose that moment to pick up again, and the rain, too, slanting sheets of it that threatened to drown both him and the horse. Lightning flashed again but more distantly, and the crack and roll that followed took time to reach him. The worst of the storm, at least this part of it, was moving on.
He had complete sympathy with the horse, for if the truth were known, the crackling bolts frightened him witless and had done so since his childhood, when he had feared that such a bolt might crack open the sky and drop God right out of heaven to smash headlong into the ground or the sea. And even if the lightning failed to get God, it could certainly get him.
Maturity had eventually persuaded him that an all-powerful God could survive lightning, but it had not yet persuaded him that his own mortal body was any match for it. He had fought to conquer his fear, and he certainly did not admit its existence to anyone but himself, because he had his reputation to maintain. A fierce, battle-seasoned soldier who stood six feet five inches in his bare feet did not admit to a bairn’s terror of nature’s flaming arrows.
With gust-driven rain beating down on him again and increasingly distant sheets of lightning providing the only light ahead, he bent his thoughts sternly toward finding shelter. He knew of only one landowner nearby who might provide acceptable hospitality on demand, and although he might find a crofter sooner, a croft would provide few amenities for himself and his horse. Therefore, albeit with reluctance, he would seek out Murdoch Macleod of Glenelg.
In the darkness, he was not certain of his exact location, but he knew that the castle he sought lay nearby, most likely just beyond the steep ridge to his left. The ridge was itself something of an obstacle with the storm’s threat still hovering, but time mattered more now than risk, so he turned the pony uphill and murmured a polite request to God that He hold His fire at bay until they had crested the ridge.
The rain stopped as he wended his way upward, and shortly after he reached the crest, a full moon broke suddenly through flying black clouds overhead, lighting the storm-blown landscape and revealing a long, narrow loch glimmering in the glen below, with a great castle perched formidably atop a promontory jutting into it from its rugged northern shore.
The moon dipped back behind the clouds as abruptly as it had revealed itself, and darkness enveloped the world again, albeit not for long. A few minutes later, silvery moonlight pierced the curtain of flying clouds again. The wind still howled, sweeping up the narrow glen, hurling gusts at him that nearly buffeted him from his horse and whipping the dark loch into foam-crested waves. But with moonlight glinting on its dark, rumpled surface, and lights burning in the upper windows of the castle, he could see his way now and could almost feel the warmth of welcoming fire, food, and drink that he knew he would find inside its great hall.
That he would also find the love of his life there never crossed his mind.
The wind raged around Castle Chalamine. Lightning flashed and thunder roared, terrifying at least four of the castle’s youngest inhabitants into shrieks, but that only added to already existing pandemonium, because supper was sadly late in making its appearance.