BOOK INFORMATION
TITLE – Highland Burn
SERIES – Book one Guardians of Scotland
AUTHOR – Victoria Zak
GENRE – Scottish medieval paranormal
romance (shifters)
PUBLICATION DATE – July 22 2014
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) - 186
PUBLISHER – Victoria Zak
COVER ARTIST – Z creations
BOOK BLURB /
SYNOPSIS – Will Love’s Flame Quench the Dragon’s Fire? …
The past never stays in the past, it rears its ugly head
eventually. James the Black Douglas knows this all too well. With a past that
has left him vengeful and his dragon blood thirsty, his reputation as a
ruthless warrior haunts his enemies in their sleep. As his allegiance stands
with Robert Bruce, the King of Scotland, he must now repay a debt to the king
and agrees to marry his daughter, Abigale Bruce. The problem is he doesn’t want
a wife. When flames start to burn out of control between him and the
auburn-haired lass, he must decide to either kindle the flames of passion or
shelter her from the truth and set her free.
It’s What Shines in the Dark That Brings Forth Your True
Light…
Determined to keep his daughter safe and out of the hands of
the English, Robert hides Abigale behind the safe walls of a nunnery. After
eight long years of living her life in seclusion, Abigale is finally set free.
But her new found freedom comes to an abrupt halt when she learns of her
betrothal to the infamous Bogeyman –
James the Black Douglas. She soon finds herself falling in love with the
uncontainable and haunted man. Is her love enough to soften his hardened heart?
BUY & TBR LINKS
AMAZON KINDLE US – http://goo.gl/mgeBSQ
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GOODREADS – http://bit.ly/1orKSsi
EXCERPT
Chapter one
“Fergus,
the water is verra refreshing. Why don’t ye join me?”
The white
stallion inhaled deeply then snorted, as he ate from a patch of lush green
grass.
“Well, ye
dinnae have to be rude about it.”
Long
white hair with streaks of gray fell over his muscled neck as the fine steed
shook his head and stomped his hoof. He pulled on a blade of grass, indicating
that he was perfectly content grazing near the loch’s edge.
A slight
giggle escaped her mouth as she splashed at her horse.
Abigale
Bruce had ridden hard and fast through the glen most of the morn. Since her
father’s recent successful victory over the English at the battle of
Bannockburn, Abigale had been freed from the nunnery. Her excitement of finally
being able to explore her new-found freedom was too much to hold back as she
charged through the forest. Now she rewarded Fergus with a patch of grass while
she cooled off in the loch. Oh how she cherished these moments; they were few
and far between.
Eight long
years at Dunfermline Abbey wasn’t the ideal place to grow up, but she had no
choice in the matter. Her father, Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, had
placed her there in order to keep her safe from his enemy, the English.
Throughout her time at the Abbey, King Edward, the King of England, had gotten
close to capturing her a few times, but the small secretive community of nuns
had held true to their oath and kept her hidden well.
Unhappy
about the newly crowned King of Scotland, the English had captured Abigale’s
step-mother, half-sister, and her two aunts, and had also beheaded three of her
uncles. Humiliated, held prisoner behind iron bars of a bird cage, and hung
from the Tower of London had been the women’s fate. Even though her freedom was
taken away, Abigale knew it was nothing compared to what they had endured.
Abigale’s
trouble had started as soon as she walked through the gates of the abbey.
Robert Bruce had given Dunfermline Abbey a generous contribution to repair part
of the church that had been attacked by King Edward. In return he requested
that Abbot Benard take his daughter in and protect her. With such a gracious
amount of coin given, the Abbot could not refuse. Therefore Abigale, at the wee
age of ten, had been left at the abbey and placed in the cruel hands of Abbess
Margaret.
Since
Abbess Margaret was in charge of twelve nuns, she declared she had not the time
to look after the wee brat, so she left Sister Kate in charge of Abigale.
Abbess Margaret was a beautiful middle-aged woman with short, raven hair, and
possessed the ability to inflict the cruelest of punishments. She watched and
waited for Abigale to slip up so she could take pleasure in punishing her.
Abigale knew why the woman hated her; she was jealous and thought it unfair that
she had special treatment just because she was the king’s daughter.
Abigale
was afforded a few exceptions to the rules. Because of her lack of interest in
taking the vow to become a nun, she didn’t have to cut her hair like the other
sisters. Furthermore, she could marry, and own property. Although there was one
rule that had to be followed; she had to be obedient. And Abbess Margaret took
great pride in punishing a disobedient Abigale. Sending Abigale on a daily pee
pot cleaning always seemed to make the corners of her thin lips twitch. “Ye’re
no princess, a bastart child who her own father has abandoned."
After a
few missed visits from her father and daily tongue lashings from Abbess
Margaret, Abigale started to feel pushed aside and abandoned, yet her spirit
held firm.
Sister
Kate had kept a watchful eye on Abigale, keeping her work-load full so she
would stay out of trouble, but trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went
as if she was born into it. Abbey life wasn’t the life for her. She grew to
hate the prayer bells, for they rang eight times during the day starting at the
wee hours of night. The blasted bell would ring either when she was sound
asleep or assisting a monk in surgery. More times than not she was late to
prayer and being tardy was frowned upon. The consequences were harsh, in fact
they were harsher than falling asleep during worship. Abigale knew this all too
well; she had fallen asleep in a choir stall one night. Sister Kate had been
the circator that night, pacing up and down the aisle as she shined her bright
cresset lamp into the stalls checking if anyone had fallen asleep. A sharp point
with a stick to her ribcage had woken Abigale up quickly. Of course she got a
rap on the legs for that one. Thank God it was Sister Kate, for she showed her
mercy.
Now that
she was home, her father was more than ever adamant about keeping his family safe.
He vowed to never allow another Bruce woman to be captured by the filthy
Sassenach. Just as Abigale thought she’d regained her freedom, here she was
once again with it ripped away from her by an arranged marriage to her father’s
first in command. Who better to protect her than the Bogeyman himself?
Trepidation
crept over her, sending a shiver through her body as she thought about the man
her father had arranged for her betrothal. “The Black Douglas,” she
thought. A man with a reputation that would make the Devil himself shudder with
fear. A ruthless warrior who had fought in many battles with her father. The
English feared him terribly, making up nursery rhymes warning their wee bairns
to “hush before the Black Douglas will get ye”. She’d never met the man
before, but the deal was done. Her father had arranged the marriage and Abigale
was to abide by his orders.
Abigale
turned to Fergus who was chewing on a blade of grass. “At least ye don’t have
to marry the Bogeyman.” She shuddered. Saying it out loud made it all too real.
For a
moment she wondered just what the Black Douglas would look like. Could her
father be so cruel as to wed her to an evil, battle-worn old man? Nay, who
could possibly be scared of an old man? Then again, a warrior’s reputation
lived on even after death. Or mayhap he really was a monster of some sort, a
mythical creature of the night that lurked under your bed waiting to nip at
your heels. Abigale was letting her imagination get the best of her. Shaking
those thoughts from her head she dipped down into the coolness of the loch,
washing away every bit of worry. Today was her day and she was going to enjoy
the peace that the loch gave her before it was taken away from her.
Coming
back up she lay her body out flat to float on top of the water’s surface. Her
light linen shift clung to her petite body, long dark auburn hair spread out
and floated with the ripples of the water. Closing her eyes, she opened her
arms out wide allowing her fears to fall from her body and sink to the bottom
of the loch.
A
snapping of twigs alerted Abigale that she wasn’t alone. Quickly she dipped her
body down into the water to hide from what was lurking in the woods. Panic
pricked up her spine as she searched the glen’s wooded edge for some kind of
movement. Nothing… no movement at all. It must be a small animal frolicking
through the thicket. Another snap. This time it sounded too close and too loud
to be a small animal.
Abigale
turned and faced Fergus.
Ears
pointing in the direction of the snapping sound, Fergus let out a gut deep
neigh.
“Ye heard
that too?” she whispered, trying not to draw attention to herself. Abigale
slowly moved toward the water’s edge, not making a sound. The last thing she
needed was to be attacked by a wild animal or worst yet… a rogue Highlander.
Dripping
wet and cold, Abigale stepped out of the water and headed straight for the huge
boulder covered in green moss where her dress and her dirk lay. If instincts
had taught her anything, it was to never let your guard down and never leave
home without your dirk.
A third
snap sounded like it came from behind her and way too close. Taking a steady
breath, she grabbed her dirk and spun around to meet her attacker face to face.
Lunging the blade forward she pointed it at his throat, the tip inches away
from piercing it.
“Och
lass, I will no hurt ye.” A massive six-foot-four man with vibrant amber eyes
stood before her with his hands up in surrender.
Abigale
arched a dark brow over deep blue eyes. “How do I know I can trust ye?”
“I have
no weapons on me… frisk me if ye dinnae believe me.” With a sly grin he turned
around with his arms in the air inviting her eyes to gaze upon every inch of
his muscular body.
Abigale
took him up on his offer, for she could not will her eyes off him if she tried.
Following his every move, her body became alive. Her hands began to itch as she
thought about running them down the corded muscles that lined his abdomen.
Hulking arms shimmered in the sunrays as if they had been kissed by the sun and
she wondered how his arms would feel wrapped around her body. As he turned
around, long black hair hung over his big broad shoulders and stopped at his
shoulder blades. His lower back tapered in to a firm backside which was covered
in a black and gray plaid. Funny… she had a sudden urge to squeeze his
buttocks. God could not have forged a more perfect man, she thought.
Being
ten-and-eight, innocent, and sheltered behind the walls of the nunnery, she hadn’t had much of a chance to explore the ways of
men. In fact if she wasn’t praying, she was in the infirmary mending men
severely wounded from battle, or ill. Sister Kate’s nagging voice reminded her
that “Ye only have room for one man in yer heart and He would never steer ye
wrong.” Only if Sister Kate could see this man standing before her now, even
she would blush.
“Ye
should no be sneaking up on me like that.” Abigale lowered the dirk, but still
kept her grip tight.
The
alluring man crossed his massive arms in front of his bare chest. “I was taking
a rest while out riding when I saw ye over here. Ye know a bonny young lass
like yerself should no be oot alone without an escort.”
“I can
take care of myself just fine.”
“Aye, I
can see that.” He rubbed his throat.
She stood
shivering from the cold or mayhap from the intensity of his gaze; she needed to
retrieve her clothes before she caught her death. Then she remembered that she
was wearing a thin shift. Surely he could see right through to her naked body?
Quickly with her free hand she tried to cover her breasts and still have some
dignity. “Would ye kindly turn around now so I can dress?" She motioned
with the dirk for him to turn around.
He
turned, giving her privacy to dress. “That’s a fine horse ye have there,” he
said over his shoulder.
Abigale
finished dressing and began to smooth the wrinkles out from her dress with her
hands. “That’s Fergus, he’s a gift from my da. A true warhorse."
Of the
few times her father had come to visit her at the abbey, and there were only a
few, she remembered the day when he had brought Fergus to her as a gift. A gift
perhaps but more like a peace offering for being absent for over a year.
Abigale forgave her father, and the white charger quickly became more than a
horse, he was a friend.
“Ye may
turn around now.” As Abigale glanced up, her heart skipped a beat as amber eyes
pierced her, sending a rush of heat through her body. She licked her lips and
struggled to swallow past a dry throat. How could this man, who she had never
met before, make her hunger for something that she had not yet had? Feeling
uneasy, she broke their stare and quickly searched for her shoes.
“Are ye a
Highlander?” What kind of a question was that? Of course he was a Highlander…
that was a plaid he wore. Way to go, Abigale Bruce, he must think I’m a real
dunderhead.
“Why do
ye ask?”
“That is
a plaid ye wear? “Abigale leaned against the boulder and bent down to slip her
shoes on.”
“Aye.”
“Then ye
must be a Highlander.”
Indeed
the ways of Highlanders were much different from the English-influenced ways of
lowland men like her father. Still both parties had fought for Scotland until
the crown and riches were in their grasp. Some would say that greed was the
root of all evil. Abigale thought differently. The crown was the root of all
evil. Men fought for it, killed for it, and sold their souls for a taste of the
crown and the power it held. The crown grew evil in men and she knew that all
too well because it was her father's own greed for the crown that left her
abandoned at the abbey.
The
unsettled nature of Scotland had left Abigale hardened. She’d seen firsthand
the aftermath of battles fought; mended wounds, prayed over dead bodies, and
even buried the dead. The nunnery where she grew up would set up tents to aid
those wounded in battle. Abigale would assist in surgery and her passion grew
for healing the sick and mending wounds. Life was to be valued, not destroyed.
In a way
she blamed Lady Scotland for her misfortunes. Her father’s growing need to
fight for Scotland had caused her to stay hidden, conceal her true identity,
and grow up without a family. Her whole family had been affected by the battles
fought for Scotland and the greed of claiming the crown. Though it was true she
had long forgiven the Lady; she could not forget.
The
Highlander seemed far away in thought, because he took a while to answer. “Some
would say I’m a Highlander.” He approached Abigale. "May I?” The beautiful
stranger reached for a piece of hair that was stuck to her face and tucked it
behind her ear. He brushed a callused finger down her cheek to her slender neck
leaving a fiery path trailing behind.
He held
her stare and captivated her to the point that she could not form a coherent
thought. Her body was no longer hers to control, her heart dropped, and desire
pooled in her core setting her body on fire. This Highlander was so close to
her she could feel his breath on her skin, she could smell his masculine scent
and soon she wanted to taste his lips.
The
mysterious man lowered his head, cupped his hand behind her neck, and pulled
her close to him to claim her lips. Abigale drew in a deep breath in
anticipation when suddenly a nudge from behind broke her trance. She turned to
find Fergus.
“Fergus!”
she scolded. “What’s gotten into ye?"
Another
nudge by a wet gray muzzle almost sent Abigale to the ground until strong arms
caught her around the waist. “I got ye lass,” he whispered in her ear.
For some
odd reason the deep rich tone of his voice soothed her. She closed her eyes,
took a deep breath and leaned back against the warmth of his body. Wait… what
was she doing? Abigale Bruce, you are to be married.
Quickly
she slipped away from his hold and began to gather up the leather reins. “I
should be getting back.” Observing the stallion’s actions, it was clear to
Abigale that Fergus did not approve of the stranger.
Jumping
up on the back of Fergus, she turned to face the Highlander. The man rubbed the
back of his neck as if he was thanking the white horse for saving his arse from
making a huge mistake.
She dared
one last look at him before she rode off into the glen back to her father’s
castle where she would prepare for travel to Castle Douglas and marry the
Bogeyman. Her eyes roamed his massive body sketching everything about him to
memory; his striking amber eyes, strong masculine jaw line, and the way his
eyes strayed over her body. She did not want to forget this man.
If only she did not have to go. Mayhap
she could run away with this beautiful man and avoid being married to a
monster. Deep down, she was drawn to this mysteriously intriguing, charming and
pure male Highlander. He made her think that for once she could be in control
of her life and make her own decisions. In a way she envied his freedom. It did
not seem fair that she had to marry a man who her father wanted her to marry. Shouldnae
one marry for love? But then again, he was a stranger… a mystery. Before
she ran away with fantasies she knew better than to think of, she squeezed her
legs, sending Fergus into a run. She had to marry the Bogeyman.
I love books about the highlanders. This author wrote a very good book. I want to read another one like this one. I think their will have to be another one only because of how it ended. I give this book 5 stars. Loved, Loved this book.
AUTHOR BIO:
Victoria Zak lives in the sunshine state with her husband, two beautiful
children, and three furry friends. Before having kids, Victoria spent fifteen
years in the veterinary business and volunteered in pet rescue.“One of my most rewarding jobs was finding unwanted animals their forever homes.”
A writing career was the last item listed on her bucket list, until she discovered that she wanted to put her stories on paper and breathe life into her characters. Her love for Scotland, curiosity of history, and passion for romance has inspired her to write her first book, Highland Burn.
“Fourteenth century Scotland was a fascinating time in history. Not only was Scotland fighting for their freedom from the English king, their own people fought each other; clan vs clan. Though being a woman of the twenty-first century, I wouldn’t want to live in those unsettled times. But writing historical fiction paranormal romance allows me to escape into their world and breathe a fresh air of romance and magic into that era, which I love to do.”
Victoria loves to hear from her readers. You can connect with her through FB, Twitter, G+, and her website
AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS:
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WEBSITE / BLOG – http://victoriazakromance.com/
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FACEBOOK PROFILE - http://on.fb.me/UtKFJa
TWITTER – https://twitter.com/VictoriaZak2
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GOODREADS – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8386732.Victoria_Zak
Tour giveaway
One e-book copy of Highland Burn
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/37401d24
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