Ian (25 page)
Authors: Elizabeth Rose
Tags: #Highlander, #Highlands, #Historical Romance, #Love Stories, #Medieval England, #Medieval Romance, #Romance, #Scotland Highlands, #Scottish Highlander, #Warriors
This is the final book in my
MadMan MacKeefe
series, but if you missed Ian’s friends’ stories and want to get caught up, the other books in the series are
Onyx
– book 1, and
Aidan
– book 2.
If you would like me to write
more Scottish medieval romances, please visit my website and leave me a message on one of the book page
s
at
Elizabethrosenovels.com
as I have new books being released nearly every month. Make sure to subscribe to my email list for announcements. You can also read excerpts from any of my novels on my website as well as get sneak peeks at covers of upcoming books. And remember that there are other authors by the same name, but my novels can be identified by the rose on every cover. Please also check out my latest endeavor, my
NEW book trailer videos
.
I’d also like to mention some of my other series.
If you’d like to read about Onyx’s sisters and their romances, you can do so in the
Daughters of the Dagger Series
.
Daughters of the Dagger Series:
Or here are a few others you may enjoy.
The Legacy of the Blade Series:
The Elemental Series:
The Dragon and the Dreamwalker
Book 1: Fire
The Duke and the Dryad
Book 2: Earth
The Sword and the Sylph
Book 3: Air
The Sheik and the Siren
Book 4: Water
Or my Greek Myth Fantasy Series:
I will leave you with some excerpts for your enjoyment.
Thanks,
Elizabeth Rose
Excerpt from
Lady Renegade
Legacy of the Blade Series
Wren placed her owl on her shoulder, and made her way to the door. As it squeaked open, it once again revealed sunlight and freedom, before closing and leaving Storm in darkness and despair.
Hurriedly, he worked on his escape hoping to be out of the shackles before she returned. He had been in many threatening situations before, but always managed to escape. In fact, he prided himself on being the best escape artist in all of Scotland, mayhap England as well.
Stretching, his fingers managed to reach and untie the leather laces that bound his boots around his legs. Squirming his feet around inside his boots, he quickly managed to slide one foot upward and then the other, until his bare feet were free and rested upon the pine needles. He chuckled as he eyed his limp boots which were still shackled together.
"Willna Morganna be surprised to see this?" he spoke to himself as he twisted around in the chair, bringing his toes up to help loosen the ropes that bound his body. With a few more tricky twists, and with the help of his shackled hands and strong teeth, he managed to free himself. The ropes dropped to the ground and he breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly, he rose to try to get the feeling back in his legs before attempting to walk or free himself of the shackles still encircling his wrists.
The light of day caught his attention once more, as Wren pushed open the door and entered the room. Storm hurriedly sat back down pretending he was still tied up, trying to decide what to do next.
"I brought you a candle," Wren said as she placed it on the table in the center of the room, and placed her owl on a wooden perch nearby that Storm hadn't even noticed. She still hadn't looked directly at him, but he knew if she did, she would now see his escapades, as the flickering candlelight well lit the underground room.
She pulled a pouch from under her arm, and poured what smelled like whisky into a wooden goblet she retrieved off the shelf.
She turned abruptly toward Storm and marched directly for him. Holding out the goblet, she offered him the drink.
He sat motionless for a minute, not sure why she hadn't even acknowledged the fact he was sitting on the chair untied, barefoot, and working on removing his shackles.
"Me many thanks," he carefully chose his words, letting both his hands grab the goblet while he surveyed her face. There was something strange about the whole situation. She never really looked straight at him, and hardly ever blinked. Of course, it was still a bit dark in there, and he could be mistaken, but only a blind person could not notice what he had done.
"You asked for it, now drink it," she commanded. Without waiting, she quickly turned away and
walked over to pet the owl that had fluttered silently to the table and was now eyeing him suspiciously.
"Ye dinna haveta tell a Scotsman to drink." He held the goblet to his lips and gulped it down greedily.
Wren half-turned her head waiting for a cough or a gag from the potent hell-fire she had just served her prisoner. She had used this trick many a times on guards before she attacked the English camps. The potency of the liquor alone had made many a drinking man fall into an unconscious state for several days at a time.
"Blazin' fires o' hell!" cried Storm through a raspy voice.
Wren smiled knowingly, expecting to hear at any moment the goblet falling to the ground as he passed out.
"I havena tasted whisky like that in a long time."
Wren's eyebrows dipped as she turned away from the owl and curiously headed in Storm's direction.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"
Losh me!
What a grand
uisque baugh.
Aye, this whisky is truly the water of life."
"Have another sip," Wren coaxed, guessing he hadn't yet had enough to effect him.
"I canna."
"Why?"
"Becooz me cup is empty."
"Empty?" gasped Wren. "And you're still conscious?"
"Me granda used to make a
mountain magic
that tasted jest like this," he exclaimed excitedly. "I used to drink it since I were but a bairn, barely able to walk. When me granda disappeared, I was sure his secret brew died with him. Tell me, where did ye get it?"
"Never mind that." Wren quickly made her way toward the bladder of whisky lying on the table. "Mayhap you should have some more." She walked back to his chair and held it out for him to take. When he neither answered nor grabbed for the bladder, her arm lowered to her side and she cocked her head like a bird of prey listening for its victim.
Suddenly, from behind her, Storm brought his shackled wrists over her head, clasping her arms tightly to her sides so she couldn't move. The bladder of whisky slipped from her hand into the pine boughs at her feet.
"No wonder ye didna need a candle," he whispered into her ear which sent a flaming shudder up her spine, "for ye are blind arena ye?"
Wren turned her head slightly and felt his hot breath on her cheek. The smell of whisky permeated his words, intoxicating her to the warmth of the man's body that now pressed against hers.
"What does it matter?" she asked softly, knowing that once men found out she was blind, they usually avoided her with the same caution of meeting
someone with the plague.
"It doesna seem to slow ye down," he observed, pulling his arms tighter around her.
"Release me," she commanded, "or I'll scream for my army to come to my aid."
"I dinna think ye'll do the
t."
"How can you be so sure?"
Storm shimmied his body around her so they were now facing each other. She felt an inner warmth, being pressed against this savage's strong chest. A wave of raw excitement swept her body, being held so close by a man who had such an unspoken power about him he made her forget she was holding
him
captive.
Excerpt from
The Sword and the Sylph
, Book 3 – Air
(Elemental Series)
Portia watched from the shadows of the great hall in her invisible form. She’d have much to report back to the Countess Odillia now. And if she was to make it back up the mountain in time to warn them of the attack, she had to leave anon.
She watched Sir Braden as he walked right past her, slowing down slightly, and if she wasn’t mistaken, sniffing the air and glancing from the corner of his eyes in her direction. Then he disappeared down the hall and was followed by Lord Solomon, the captain of the guard, and Lady Christabel as well.
She surveyed the lady of the castle as the woman glided past her down the corridor. She couldn’t stop thinking of the way Sir Braden had dropped to his knee and kissed her hand. He was so gallant and chivalrous and she would have welcomed the kind gesture. Instead, this woman all but shunned him. She didn’t deserve the likes of Sir Braden. She didn’t deserve anyone for that matter.
She hurried out to the courtyard and snuck through the gate, heading to where she’d left her horse tied to a tree hidden in the forest. When she was sure no one was looking, she materialized and put her foot in the stirrup to climb atop her steed. A strong arm on her shoulder and a low voice from behind her made her stop in mid-motion.
“I thought I’d find you here. Now tell me, Portia-Maer, just what is it you think you’re doing?”
She turned to look directly into the blue eyes of Sir Braden. But this time his eyes were not dancing with excitement. Now they were clouded over and disappointment shadowed them as well.
“I demand you release me at once.”
“I cannot do that, my little fae one. As a matter of fact, I’m going to have to take you back to Lord Solomon.”
“How do you know I’m of fae blood? And why would you do such a thing as to take me to a man who would not think twice of hanging me at the crossroads to die as an example to others?”
“Oh, so it seems someone has overheard our private conversation. And you have just confirmed my suspicions that you are the spy that’s been giving information to the Earl of Calila as well.”
“The earl in my father,” she told him. “I would do anything at all to help him, even if it meant my death.”
“Your father?” His hand loosened his grip on her shoulder and he slowly brought it back to his waist. “You mean to tell me you live at Castle Calila? ’Tis your family that is fighting Lord Solomon and his men?”
“’Tis not that way, not really. Now tell me, how did you know I was here if you could not see me?”
“Your scent of lilacs gives you away every time, sweetheart. And I’d venture to guess that one of your fae powers is turning invisible is it not?”
“You’ve already seen the proof of that, so why do you need to ask?”
“What else can you do? And are you called a dryad like your friend Rae-Nyst? She can command the vines and trees to do her bidding. Can you do that as well?” He looked around cautiously, hand on his sword, as if he thought the vines of the forest were about to attack him.
“I am not a dryad, you simpleton, I am a sylph! A dryad is an elemental of the earth. I am an elemental of the air and everything that goes with it.”
“I see. A sylph. Interesting title I must say.” He nodded his head and swept his eyes over her from head to toe. She felt suddenly very insecure and lowered her gaze to the ground under his wanton perusal.
Braden drank in the beauty of the girl who’d just called herself a sylph. Such an odd title for an odd girl. But naught about her was common. Her hair was like spun cornsilk, long and flowing, lifting around her in the breeze. It was such a light honeyed color that it almost seemed to him as if it were silver. Her lips were full and pink, her eyes dark blue like mountain bilberries. And her skin looked soft and smooth, and so pale that the noblewomen would envy her for the appearance that they strived so hard to attain.
She wore a thin silken gown of white and light blue with tight fitting sleeves and long flowing tippets hanging down from her elbows. And around her head was a woven wreath of small dainty flowers of yellow and white making her look like a Queen of the Fae people. She smelled liked the fresh air after a spring rain mixed with the scent of lilacs that clung to her wherever she went. She said she was an elemental of the air, and to him that described her well. She was light and airy, breezy and fresh. Her essence called out to him whether she knew it or not, making him feel more alive than he’d felt in years.
