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More sexy historical romance
Turn on to the next page to read the first chapters ofThe Highlander’s Possession,one of my best stories so far!
Preview: The Highlander’s Possesion
Prologue
As she hauledherself from the stone floor, her head pounding, Greta was dimly aware that she was surrounded by death. From somewhere just outside the door of the chamber, she could hear someone groan, but the voice was female, which meant it could not be Jamie.
Where was he?
“Jamie!” Her voice sounded weak and shaky, but she cried out again, nonetheless. “Jamie! Jamie, where are ye? Come to mama, sweetheart!”
There was no answer, so Greta gathered her skirts and left the room, stepping over the body of her husband, the Laird. Greta did not have to check to know he was dead, but the knowledge was of little importance to her, in any case. In time, she would allow herself to feel glad that the old man was gone, and she was finally rid of him and his cruelty. For now, though, all that mattered was Jamie.
Greta’s voice broke into a sob as she staggered from the chamber into the passageway, registering the devastation of the castle but caring for nothing but her missing son.
Perhaps he’s hiding somewhere. Maybe he was scared by all the noise and fighting and ran away to some hiding place he knows?
Even as she thought it, Greta knew it wasn’t true. There was nowhere to hide, after all. She knew every inch of this castle, but somehow the Northmen had seemed to know it even better — she knew not how. She shuddered at the memory of how the warriors of the Leanir clan had stormed the building, ruthlessly cutting down everyone in their path, man, woman, and child.
In the castle’s huge kitchen, Greta raised a hand wearily to her head, pushing back her long brown hair and finding it sticky with blood. Her head. They had hit her on the head. It was the last thing she remembered before the world had turned black. If the blow had been hard enough to knock her out, she supposed it might have been hard enough to convince whoever had struck her that she was dead already.
Greta shivered, dismissing the thought. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was Jamie, so she took another step into the room, stopping in her tracks as she heard a faint rustling sound coming from beneath the enormous wooden table, which was still strewn with what would presumably have become that day’s dinner, had the cook lived long enough to make it.
“Jamie?” Greta started forward, hope stirring in her breast, and then instantly dying when she saw, not the face of her six-year-old son, but a girl of no more than thirteen or so peering up at her from beneath the table, her eyes wide with terror.
“There, lass,” Greta said, instinctively moving to comfort the child, despite her disappointment that she was not the one she sought. “You can come out now. It’s all over.”
She hoped her words were true as the girl crawled out from her hiding place and shrank back against the wall.
“Please,” Greta asked, taking the child’s hand in hers as she stared into her eyes pleadingly. “My son, I’ve lost him. Please, have ye seen him?”
There was a long pause before the girl spoke, her voice so low that Greta had to strain to hear her.
“The savages,” the maid said haltingly. “The savages… they took him. They took him from the castle. I hid under the table, and I saw them go.”
The words hit Greta with the same force as the blow she had received to the head, and she staggered under the weight of them.
“G… gone?” she stammered, her heart twisting in her breast. “My son is gone?”
As the girl nodded her confirmation, the scream that had been rising in Greta’s chest finally burst from her throat, the sound echoing through the empty corridors of the castle like the cry of a wounded animal.
Jamie was gone. Her baby had been taken by the Leanir clan — the savage Northmen who held the entire country in fear. He was gone… but if they had taken him, then surely that must mean he was still alive?
Greta straightened up, her heart still thumping with fear. Now, though, a new emotion had been added to the mix. She dared not call it hope, for it was too soon for that, but perhaps she could call it determination instead. Her son may be gone, but she would allow herself to believe he was alive until she was proved wrong. And, until then, she would do everything in her power to find him.
Chapter 1
“I kensome folk wear their hearts on their sleeves, but ye seem to be wearing yers on yer neck!”
Greta smiled politely at the man’s attempt to flirt with her as she poured his tankard of ale and passed it across the bar to him. It was a joke she must have heard a hundred times before, the small, heart-shaped birthmark below her left ear never failing to attract comment.
Greta pulled her shawl a little tighter around her neck as the customer retreated, giving her one last lascivious look as he went. Comments were one thing, but if anything were going to betray her true identity, the heart-shaped mole would be it. Although two full years had passed since she had last been known as the Lady of McMillan, she had never been able to shake the fear that one day someone would recognize it — and recognize her.
Today, however, did not appear to be that day, and so, pushing her fears to one side, Greta busied herself with tidying up the small tavern, pausing now and then to rub her aching back.
“I like yer necklace.”
