This February marks the release of Highland Spitfire, the first in Mary Wine’s new Highland Weddings series! To celebrate Mary joins us on the blog to share an exclusive excerpt with a chance to win a copy of this upcoming New Release:
Title: Highland Spitfire
Author: Mary Wine
Series: Highland Weddings, #1
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Release Date: February 2, 2016
New from Mary Wine, the queen of sizzling, page-turning Scottish Historical romance
Passion flares between enemies
Two hotheaded Highlanders, the offspring of feuding lairds, are tricked by the King’s Regent into a desperate choice: marry or die. Bhaic MacPherson is more disposed to lead his clan into battle than stay married to the daughter of his enemy. But perhaps the intensity of his feelings has more to do with desire than hostility.
And the Highlands ignite
Ailis Robertson wanted a husband, not a savage-but when her family was faced with a deadly ultimatum, she had no choice. The union of a MacPherson and a Robertson could end three generations of hostilities between the two families, but can bitter rivals truly become lovers?
He reached for the bedding, flipping it back to reveal only the single comforter and sheet. “Ye’re the one who decided this was a good idea.”
Her temper rose, burning away her shyness. “Compared to watching me kin be shot, it was.”
He caught her in a hard look but at least there was a flicker of agreement in his blue eyes. “It seems we are both victims of our father’s stubborn natures.”
“Aye.” She answered.
He very slowly slid his gaze down her body, truly looking at her like a woman instead of a Robertson. It stole her breath, sending a bolt of heat through her that she’d never experienced before.
“So why are ye blushing now, Ailis Robertson?” He asked mockingly. “Did ye nae think on just what marriage involves?”
She looked away, unable to hold his unsettling stare. Her emotions felt like they might spill over all the boundaries she had always lived by. There was something about him that made her nervous. And to be sure, she was uncertain how to have a civil conversation with a MacPherson. Yet being rude seemed wrong. So, she floundered as she tried to answer him.
“I was a bit more focused on the musket aimed at me father’s heart.” She said in a rush.
His eyes narrowed. “Ye’re forgetting I knelt beside ye for the same reason, lass.”
There was a tone in his voice that shamed her. She drew in a deep breath and let it out.
“Why are ye tormenting me with accusations about not thinking on what marriage involves?” She ended up looking at the bed again, a sense of defeat pressing against her heart. “I certainly had no thought I’d be wed today.”
“We have that in common.” Their gazes met once more in a moment of unexpected agreement. He made a low sound of frustration but his features lost their stern edge. For a moment he contemplated her, looking as uncertain as she felt. “How old are ye, Ailis?”
She wasn’t sure she liked hearing her name on his lips. It was oddly intimate. Yet they both stood facing each other in their underclothes, so fitting as well.
“Twenty-two.” She answered.
“Old enough to be thinking of marriage,” he said.
“But with ye?” She asked before realizing she was insulting him. It really wasn’t wise, since the man was locked inside the chamber with her. It was just second nature, he was a MacPherson.
“Me own delight is near impossible to contain.”
His tone left no doubt that he was displeased with her. She lifted her chin, but it was only a show of bravado. She felt the distinct sting of her feelings being injured.
He was just a MacPherson.
But it still hurt to realize she was hated for nothing more than the fact that she was a Robertson.
He muttered something low and moved around the bed, closing the distance between them. Her belly twisted in alarm. She scrambled over the bed again before even thinking about why he alarmed her so much. But the candle flame illuminated her the moment she stood up, so she backed away from it. That left her facing him without the bed between them.
“I will nae rape ye.”
There was something new in his tone, something that calmed her. It was disgust, but not the sort he’d aimed at her before. This was injured pride. Even if he was a MacPherson, he still had a Highlander’s honor.
But that admission left her nothing but gratitude.
And duty. Men were not the only ones who had to shoulder their share of life’s burdens.
She looked back at the bed, her mouth once again dry. “Ye….ye….do nae have…to.” She forced the words through her resisting lips. “I keep me promises.”
Acclaimed author Mary Wine has written over 30 works of erotic fantasy, romantic suspense, and historical romance. An avid history-buff and historical costumer, she and her family enjoy participating in historical reenactments. Mary lives in California with her husband and two sons.