TARAH
SCOTT
Award winning author
Tarah Scott cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and
Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the
Wind as a close second. She writes modern classical romance, and paranormal and
romantic suspense. Tarah grew up in Texas Westchester
County , New York
MY
HIGHLAND LORD
London
Heiress kidnapped by the Marquess of Ashlund, read the headlines. Yet no one
tried to save her.
Phoebe Wallington
was seven years old when a mass assassination attempt rocked Regency England.
Her father was the only accused traitor to elude capture. Now as a grown woman
and a British spy, she is no closer to learning what really happened that day.
Phoebe's
quest for the truth takes a sudden turn when she's kidnapped by a suspected
traitor. But Kiernan
MacGregor, the Marquess of Ashlund, may not live long enough to stand trial.
Someone wants him dead. And Phoebe stands in the killer's way.
Excerpt
What man isn't at a disadvantage when it comes to a beautiful
woman?
Phoebe shifted
against the bed pillows and glanced at the mantle clock. Ten minutes before
six. Her gaze fell to the low burning embers in the hearth. Morning was upon
them and the commotion of the earlier hours had long since died. Yet, as
promised by Kiernan MacGregor, Mather stood outside her door. Mather had shown
the good sense to untie her before positioning himself as guard. Her first
thought had been that Kiernan regretted his rash outburst of temper, but
Mather’s “You ought not to have ignored his commands, Miss,” did away with any
notion that his master had enough sense to comprehend his sin.
A perfunctory knock
sounded on the door, then it opened and the object of her thoughts filled the
doorway. Phoebe straightened.
“My one burning
question, Heddy,” he said, closing the door as he stepped inside—she noted
Mather no longer stood outside the door—“is why you were following Alan Hay?”
“That offense
didn't warrant you tying me up as if me as I was the criminal,” she retorted.
Kiernan snorted. “I
would have done far worse if you were a criminal.” He strode to the chair to
the right of her bed and sat down. “Answer the question.”
“If I answer
incorrectly, will you tie me up again?”
“I might.”
Phoebe forced
herself to relax against the pillows and raised a brow. “A simple case of
ennui.”
He blinked, and
Phoebe feared she had earned another trussing up, then his expression grew
speculative. The look abruptly disappeared and he settled into a corner of his
chair.
He draped an arm
over the chair’s back and drawled, “Ennui, you say?”
Despite his lazy
expression, Phoebe was startled by the decided lack of interest in his voice.
“Yes,” she replied.
He gave a single
nod. “Your quest for adventure nearly got you killed, my dear.”
“It was an exciting
adventure,” she rejoined in a bright voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Indeed.”
“Indeed,” she
emphasized.
“I am pleased,”
Kiernan said.
Phoebe frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“This fine bit of
coquettish flirting.”
She stiffened. He
was right, which made the analysis all the worse. “This isn't an evening ball,”
she snapped.
“And I am not an
earl.”
“You could be a
merchant—or a farmer—for all I care." Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "Who
are you? You keep company with Lord Stoneleigh, which means you're not lowborn,
and the villagers here look to you for leadership. You are no merchant—or a
farmer, for that matter."
He laughed.
"If I was a merchant, would my money be enough for you, or is a title
required?"
She forced her
temper back. "Sir, I understand you believe I am Hester—”
He coughed as if to
clear his throat.
Phoebe crossed her
arms beneath her breasts. “I understand you believe I am Hester and that you're
doing your friend a service.”
“Heddy.” He leaned
forward and reached for the hand she had stuffed beneath her arm.
Phoebe stiffened,
but he pried the hand free and lifted it to his lips. His mouth against her
hand caused her pulse to jump and warmth spread up her cheeks. His eyes
registered curiosity, but he released her hand and reclined in his chair again.
“Forgive me for
laughing,” he said.
“I can forgive the
mistaken identity—as inconvenient as it is—but tying me up goes beyond the
pale.”
“I'm pleased to
have your forgiveness, regardless of the reason.”
“When this escapade
is finished, you will find yourself at a disadvantage.”
“Heddy,” he said
with resignation, “I find myself at a disadvantage now.”
She gave him a dry
look. “I doubt that. When do you plan on sending word to the authorities of the
murder plot against the duchess—or have you already done so?”
Kiernan leaned back
in his chair. “No need to concern yourself with that.”
"But—my God,
you don't intend to report them. You will stand idly by while a murder is
planned and executed?”
“What is one murder
in exchange for fifteen thousand?" he replied. " Or do fifteen
thousand Highlanders hold less value to you than a single noblewoman?” He
paused. "Perhaps, the gratitude of the duchess' male relatives interests
you more?”
Phoebe shot to her
feet. “Even Heddy wouldn't lower herself to such debased actions.”
“Lower herself?”
Kiernan laughed, although the sound held none of his characteristic humor.
“Heddy, I have seen—”
“By heavens,"
she burst out. "I am not Heddy.”
“No?” he murmured.
When all she did was give a frustrated growl, he rose, “Well then—" He
yanked her against him.
His mouth crashed
down on hers and she froze. One arm slipped around her waist while the other
cupped her neck. She gasped, but he hugged her closer. His tongue invaded her
mouth, the taste of him, shocking and intoxicating. His arm tightened, but the
kiss, the thrust of his tongue, softened to a feathery touch. He shuddered, and
her heart leapt into a furious rhythm.
His mouth moved
slowly against her lips. She became aware of the hard bulge pressing against
her abdomen and clutched at his shoulders. Heat streaked from the unexpected
throb in her breasts to her stomach, then lower. He abruptly tore his mouth
from hers and buried his face in her neck. Phoebe swayed. His low laugh washed
warm across her ear and she shivered.
“You temptress,” he
breathed. “I understand what Regan sees in you.”
“Just because I was
in Heddy's coach doesn't mean I am her,” she said through a gulp of air.
Kiernan
straightened away from her and stared down at her, eyes intense. “I wonder if
Regan would believe me if I swore I didn’t know you're his lover." His
gaze slid down her body, and she couldn't find the will to move even as his
eyes lifted again to her face. "You make testing the theory tempting. In
fact—"
His fingers
tightened on her arms and she realized he intended to test the theory that
instant.
Review
I had forgotten how much I enjoyed a great highlander book
until I read Tarah Scott’s My Highland Lord. My Highland Lord was the continuation of Ms. Scott’s Highland Lord
series and delves into the lives of Kieran MacGregor and Phoebe Wallington.
The story immediately took me on an adventure, a kidnapping,
fueled by intrigue and love. I could not
read the pages fast enough as every turn provided more twists that led to a
wonderful and fulfilling outcome.
Ms. Scott
permitted Phoebe to indulge and grow as a character sans of a woman’s lib
attitude, especially given her profession; a spy for the Crown. Phoebe was a
strong-willed regency woman who would flawlessly fit into the twenty first
century with ease. She was snarky, loving and loyal to a fault. Ms. Scott created the embodiment of a wonderfully
liberated character who was not afraid to confront those she felt in the wrong,
nor admit her faults as well.
Kieran MacGregor was the perfect rogue highlander. Brash,
bold, and in love with Phoebe, Kieran exuded masculinity in a kilt. As I
pictured Kieran in my mind, thick thighs and pure sex appeal invaded my thoughts.
Tarah Scott took me back in time and
brought forth a Marquess ; a scoundrel at heart who held a soul full of honor.
My Highland Lord
meshed two very strong and adventurous characters, permitted them flaws and wove
their lives for adventure and true love.
Tarah Scott has
brought this reviewer to a time period that I had long forgotten with her
wonderful and colorful writing and stimulating characters.
Definite S.E.X.
A five handcuff review
No comments:
Post a Comment