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Authors: Reivers Bride

Amanda Scott



“A vivid Scottish setting, an engaging battle of wits, and a dash of fantasy all come together beautifully.”


“Totally engaging… highly charged romance, snappy repartee, memorable characters, and some wild adventures… a non-stop read.”

—Romantic Times

“Ms. Scott soars through her story with excitement.”


“Filled with adventure, fantasy, and the wonders of love.”


“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.”


“Vivacious… fluid and lyrical… a whirling, twirling read that’s as haunting as the beautiful skirl of bagpipes.”

“Doesn’t miss a beat… plenty of intrigue, suspense, and romance… a very satisfying and entertaining read.”

“Scott’s fans will be glad to see this one.”

—Southern Pines Pilot


The Secret Clan: Highland Bride

The Secret Clan: Hidden Heiress

The Secret Clan: Abducted Heiress

Border Fire

Border Storm

Border Bride

Highland Fling

Highland Secrets

Highland Treasure

Highland Spirits

The Bawdy Bride

Dangerous Illusions

Dangerous Angels

Dangerous Games

Dangerous Ixidy

The Rose at Twilight



Copyright © 2003 by Lynne Scott-Drennan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including
information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief passages in a review.

Warner Books, Inc.

Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue

New York, NY 10017

Visit our website at

First eBook Edition: September 2009

ISBN: 978-0-446-56580-6


Applause for Amanda Scott and Her Marvelous The Secret Clan Series

Other Books by Amanda Scott


Authors Note


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

About the Author

The Editor’s Diary

Escape Into Your Heart...For An Irresistible Price

To Sue B. Steele, Lady Peel, and Kay Cole,

whose comments and attitudes continue to inspire me.

Thank you, now and always.

Everything that deceives may be said to enchant.


Authors Note

For readers who enjoy knowing the correct pronunciation of the names and places mentioned, please note the following:

Buccleuch = Buck-LEW

Ceilidh = KAY-lee

Dunsithe = Dun-SITH-ec

The Scottish Borders, Ellyson Towers, July 1541

ady Anne Ellyson gazed despairingly at her dying father, the third Earl of Armadale, as he struggled weakly to raise himself
in his bed. The bedchamber was stuffy, too warm, and redolent with myriad odors of a sickroom. She gestured to the earl’s
wiry manservant to help him.

Slight of build as Anne was, and standing beside her father’s huge bed, she felt smaller and more vulnerable than usual. She
wore an old robe over her nightshift and had slipped her feet into fur-lined mules when her woman had wakened her. Her auburn
hair hung untidily down her back, and her gray eyes were somber. Her throat felt tight, and as she watched the earl, her stomach
clenched with fear.

“Pillow,” Armadale muttered.

Without argument but with visible disapproval, his manservant helped him shift his wasted upper body forward and shoved a
plump pillow behind him.

“He tires easily, my lady,” the man said with a speaking look.

Wearily, but in a stronger voice than before, the earl said, “Go away, John. I would be private with her ladyship.”

“Aye, my lord.” Turning, he said quietly, “I’ll be just outside, Lady Anne.”

She nodded, her attention fixed on the glowering figure in the bed.

It was four o’clock in the morning, and although she had left him asleep only two hours before, he seemed to have lost even
more weight, strength, and color in the meantime. His usually ruddy complexion was gray, his eyelids drooping. The pale blue
eyes behind them, however, still showed much of their usual spark.

Armadale, like most men of the Scottish Borders, was a man of less than middle height but one born to the saddle and possessed
of a strong sense of independence. Until the previous fortnight, he had enjoyed a healthy, muscular body and a vigorous life.
His formidable power had derived not only from his rank and his energy but also from his domineering spirit and legendary
temper. Now all that lingered of that power and spirit was the grim look he bestowed upon his sole surviving child as the
door shut behind his servant.

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