All she does know? She’s starting to fall in love with him.
LOVE WITH A SCOTTISH OUTLAW
Highland Weddings #3
Gayle Callen
Releasing June 27, 2017
Avon Books
Catriona
Duff can’t remember who she is. Discovered in the midst of a raging
thunderstorm, she has no recollection of how she came to be there or how the
guards around her ended up dead. She certainly doesn’t remember that the
handsome Highlander who saves her is her family’s sworn enemy. All she does
know? She’s starting to fall in love with him.
Duncan Carlyle couldn’t believe his luck when he found Catriona, the daughter of the man who made him an outlaw and forced him from his ancestral home, stranded on the road with nothing to her name--including her memory. Speaking out against Aberfoyle’s evil practices of stealing poor and orphaned children to sell to the highest bidder has cost him everything, but now he has the opportunity to make the man understand the true price of a missing child. But as Duncan begins to know Cat, guilt over his actions wars with his irrepressible desire for her.
When Cat discovers the truth of her identity, she decides she can teach the outlawed clan chief a lesson, but in love, there’s more than one way to win.
Duncan Carlyle couldn’t believe his luck when he found Catriona, the daughter of the man who made him an outlaw and forced him from his ancestral home, stranded on the road with nothing to her name--including her memory. Speaking out against Aberfoyle’s evil practices of stealing poor and orphaned children to sell to the highest bidder has cost him everything, but now he has the opportunity to make the man understand the true price of a missing child. But as Duncan begins to know Cat, guilt over his actions wars with his irrepressible desire for her.
When Cat discovers the truth of her identity, she decides she can teach the outlawed clan chief a lesson, but in love, there’s more than one way to win.
Excerpt
Duncan
lifted the woman’s upper body into his left arm, cradling her head
so that he blocked the rain. He probed near her wound gingerly with
his right hand, and she frowned and weakly tried to turn away.
His
wariness deepened. There was something about her, a familiarity that
echoed inside his head but refused to take shape.
“Where
am I?” she whispered, her accent English. “What happened?”
An
English lady in the Highlands? He chose to answer the second question
rather than the first. “Ye’ve a nasty wound to your head,
mistress. Did ye fall?”
She
blinked as if she might lose consciousness. “Where am I? What
happened?”
Now
it was his turn to blink, but he remembered that wounds of the head
could cause confusion. He knew he had to stop the blood loss.
“Mistress,
can ye stand?”
She
opened those eyes again, large and golden, in a delicate face. Her
dark hair streamed back from her forehead, her hairline coming to a
peak.
He
recognized her, a flash of memory from Stirling several years ago,
when he’d glared his hatred at the Earl of Aberfoyle, a haughty old
man on horseback, forcing aside a poor lass heavy with child to make
way for him. The earl’s family was seldom in Scotland, so their
arrival in the Highlands had caused a stir. Duncan had seen this
woman riding just behind, wearing the fine gown and jaunty hat that
marked her a noble lady. At least she’d looked distressed at her
father’s actions.
Catriona
Duff was the daughter of Aberfoyle, the chief of the Clan Duff and
Duncan’s bitter enemy. Aberfoyle was one of the main reasons that
Duncan was an outlaw who had to protect and feed his people while on
the run.
He
lifted his head and looked about, as if the earl and his entire
retinue were somewhere nearby, waiting to attack him. “Where are
your men?” he demanded.
“What
happened?” she asked weakly.
“Ye’ve
hit your head. Where are your men?”
“My—men?”
Her
hand fluttered toward her forehead, but he didn’t allow her to
touch the wound.
A
spasm of pain narrowed her eyes. “I found them . . .
dead,” she whispered. “What happened to me?”
“I
don’t know.” Six weeks after almost being captured, he was still
wary of anything unusual in his part of the Highlands. Dead men would
prove her story true, but he couldn’t deal with them now.
“I—I
can’t remember—I can’t remember anything!” Though her cry was
feeble, it was full of helplessness and fear.
“Ye
don’t remember the accident?”
“Not . . .
the accident, not even . . . my name.”
He
frowned down at her, wondering at what intrigue she was playing—or
what her father had set in motion. He wouldn’t put it past the
bastard.
She
clutched his plaid. “What happened to me?” she cried in despair.
“I
do not ken. I must clean that wound. Can ye stand? I can pull ye up
on my horse.”
He
rose, lifting her up with him until she could clutch the saddle for
support. After mounting, he reached down for her. He would have
preferred she ride astride behind him, but she seemed so weak that he
ended up cradling her across his thighs. She leaned into him, her
head lolling onto his chest, her blood staining his black, red, and
yellow plaid.
It
didn’t take long to reach the rocky overhang he’d used for
shelter several other times. Once out of the rain, he searched his
saddle pack but found nothing that would do for a clean bandage. He
ended up cutting several strips from the end of his shirt with his
dirk. The wound seemed clean enough after all the rain, so he wrapped
the improvised bandages around her head and hoped they stopped the
bleeding.
She
looked at him helplessly the whole time, and he felt like she was
memorizing his features. He studied her, too. Her high cheekbones
emphasized the hollows beneath, and her full lips hinted at an
expressive mouth. Her pale face was as remote and beautiful as a
statue, making her appeal to him on a primitive level that he would
never acknowledge.
Why
was she in the remote Highlands? According to gossip he’d heard
long ago, she rarely visited her father’s castles. Was she the
advance of a larger party headed right for Duncan’s unsuspecting
people? She was so close to his hidden encampment. If he let her go,
she could bring men to hunt the area, risking his people—risking
the good he was trying to do. He couldn’t release her until he knew
all the facts.
After a
detour through fitness instructing and computer programming, Gayle
Callen found the life she’d always dreamed of as a romance writer.
This USA Today bestselling author has written more than twenty
historical romances for Avon Books, and her novels have won the Holt Medallion,
the Laurel Wreath Award, the Booksellers’ Best Award, and been translated into
eleven different languages. The mother of three grown children, an avid
crafter, singer, and outdoor enthusiast, Gayle lives in Central New York with
her dog Uma and her husband, Jim the Romance Hero. She also writes contemporary
romances as Emma Cane. Discover more at her website.
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