Blurb
On
a
windswept
cliff
above
San
Francisco
Bay
in
2013,
27
year-old
Andra
Cameron,
the
last
member
of
her
family,
prepares
to
scatter
her
family's
ashes
to
the
wind.
An
earthquake
catapults
her
to
the
Scottish
Highlands
in
1705.
She
wakes,
aching
and
bloody,
to
the
sound
of
horses
thundering
through
the
trees.
Terrified
and
with
no
other
options,
Andra
accompanies
these
rugged
warriors.
She
can't
deny
the
undeniable
attraction
that
ignites
between
herself
and
the
handsome
but
gruff
Kendrick.
Will
she
trust
him
to
provide
protection
in
the
harsh
reality
of
18th
century
Scotland
and
with
her
secret,
or
will
she
find
a
way
to
return
home
to
the
21st
century?
Laird
Kendrick
MacLean
and
his
men,
escaping
a
recent
skirmish
with
their
worst
nemeses,
clan
Cameron
and
their
Sassenach
allies,
are
shocked
to
find
an
injured,
unprotected
female
in
their
path.
How
could
she
not
know
her
kin
and
how
had
she
landed
in
the
middle
of
the
wilderness
alone?
His
men
suspect
she's
a
spy
or
a
witch.
Still,
Kendrick
will
not
abandon
an
injured
woman,
even
if
she
speaks
unusually
accented
English,
and
her
name
is
Cameron.
Will
he
ransom
her
to
others
or
will
their
closed
hearts
open
to
each
other?
Although
he
questions
her
every
utterance,
this
feisty,
outspoken
woman
inflames
his
desire
like
no
other.
Excerpt
“Lass,
can I help you?” His voice was softer than the others, his stance
relaxed, composed, despite the dirt and blood splattered over his
massive arms and clothing. He seemed to be a quiet, gentle man,
though physically as imposing as the others.
“You
could bring me my bag.”
He
moved his
hand from
behind him
and
cautiously
extended
her
mother’s
old
carpetbag.
“Do I
need to
check it
for
weapons?”
A slight
crinkle
lifted the
corner of
his mouth.
A piece
of leather
cord tied
wavy,
light-brown
hair at
the nape
of his
neck and
tight
braids
spilled
alongside
sharp,
scruffy
cheeks. His
eyes were
dark and
shadowed.
“Thank
you…it’s Rabbie, correct?”
“Aye,”
he nodded.
Andra
granted him a guarded smile. “I’ll pull no further weapons if you
promise to be kind.” The slight attempt at humor from both of them
eased the tension coiled in her gut.
He
swept an arm gracefully in front of him and bowed, “Always, m’lady,
as I learned at me mother’s knee.” Then he left her to tend the
horses.
She
searched her bag for the washcloth, hand towel, and first aid kit she
always carried when traveling. The washcloth came to hand first. She
dipped it into the cold water and wiped the dried and clotted blood
from her face and hair. Then she dunked her head in the pool several
more times.
“I
seem to be awake,” she whispered, just for the comfort on her own
voice. “My surroundings feel solid enough,” she pounded her fist
on the dirt, “so it must be real. Accept it, Andra, and decide what
to do next.”
She
could hear the men speaking Gaelic, hushed yet clearly distraught
about the condition of their clansman. They gathered near another
pool of water several yards from where she knelt. She watched them
over her shoulder for a few minutes struggling to fit the scene into
her new reality. A million questions rose in her throat.
“Not
now.
Patience
and
observation
are
what’s
required.
All
will
be
revealed
in
time.” What
a
stupid
cliché.
Should
she
offer
her
help
with
their
friend;
would
they
accept
it?
She
could
not
sit
here
and
do
nothing
when
one
of
them
was
seriously
injured.
Besides,
anxiety
always
spurred
her
to
take
action.
Her
father
had
always
said,
“Move,
keep
busy,
and
don’t
let
dust
gather
under
your
feet.”
With
her
father’s
words
ringing
in
her
ears,
she
approached
the
men
cautiously,
keeping
her
eye
on
the
mean
one,
Struan.
“May
I be of assistance?” She stood with her feet firmly planted on the
hard-packed, dirt floor, her head held high, one hand pressed flat
against her side, the other rested on the cross dangling on her
chest. It took an extreme effort to control her trembling body. Her
palms moistened with sweat. She steadied her focus on Kendrick. His
strong hands moved carefully over his brother’s body. The mean one
harrumphed and growled.
A
growl?
Really?
Kendrick
looked up, concern etched on his face. His dark, probing eyes bore
through her. “Are you a healer, then?” he asked.
“Not
a healer exactly, but I have cared for ill and injured persons and
have some training in first aid. I wish to help if you’ll permit
me.”
“I
dinnae ken your meaning. What’s the first aid of which you speak?
As you can see, we give him aid, but if you can do anything to help
save my brother’s life, I will gladly accept your offer.”
The
mean one growled again. “Don’t trust her, she’s the enemy and
will just as soon slit his throat.”
Ignoring
the slur, she continued, “Have you determined the extent of his
injuries?”
“Aye,
his shoulder is dislocated, several fingers broken, which we have
straightened and bound as best we’re able. We need to stitch
multiple, deep wounds, and he’s lost a lot of blood, though blood
no longer flows freely.”
The
injured man lay on a plaid, stripped completely naked, his kilt torn
away from his battered body. Mud, blood, and all manner of vile
debris caked the hard planes of his bronzed chest. Andra couldn’t
identify the severity or location of all his injuries. He moaned but
appeared unconscious, or so she assumed, since he hadn’t opened his
eyes. Clumps of dried blood crusted over wounds on one leg and foot.
Dark, matted refuse covered the entire other leg.
His
manhood lay flaccid against his thigh, and none of the men seemed
concerned about his state of undress in front of a strange female.
She stood quietly, waiting for several breaths.
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Author
Bio:
After more than
twenty years writing and delivering management and other training
programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten
years developing community crisis-intervention training programs,
Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and
poetry. Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and
university presses over the past few decades. Following a difficult
period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that
inspired her to write in this genre. As she says, "who
doesn't desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?" Always
interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few
stories would follow that theme.
When not writing,
her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on
sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an
expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze
drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come
to mind. Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish
ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands. Although she had
already developed the characters for Finding My Highlander,
her trip to the Highlands enriched the characters and enhanced the
story direction. This is her first full-length romance novel.
Aleigha is working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander, and
another time-travel novel set in a later period.
WWW
(Aleigha Siron’s Webpage)
Aleigha
Siron’s Book page at Tirgearr Publishing
Tirgearr
Publishing Home Page
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