Title: The Highland Outlaw
Author: Heather McCollum
Genre: Historical Romance
About The Highland Outlaw:
Shaw Sinclair, chief of the outcast clan of Sinclairs of
Caithness in northern Scotland, has made a deal with the devil. Despite his
strength and lethal skills, he needs help—specifically from a woman—to
accomplish his mission to bring a bairn to safety to the coast. When he meets
the brave and beautiful Alana Campbell at a Samhain Festival, he decides she's
the one. Alana Campbell is ready to show the world she's just as skillful with
a sgian dubh as any man. Attracting the attention of the brawny chief who
coerces her to join him on his journey to the coast of Scotland gives her that
very opportunity. Sparks flash between them as they're forced to act as husband
and wife to accomplish the deadly mission. However, when secrets threaten to
tear them apart, they have to decide if their differences outweigh the reality
of their feelings...
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Exclusive Excerpt:
“Just give us the child, and
we might let you live.”
“She is my babe,” Alana lied.
“I will never give her away to English devils bent on killing innocent
children.”
“It is not your babe, and it
is not innocent,” the soldier who seemed to be in charge yelled back up. “Drop
it to the ground, and we will let you stay in your tree.”
“How can a babe not be
innocent?” she yelled, her eyes wide, fingers squeezing the dagger as she
slowly stretched her throwing arm behind her. “A newborn babe is the most
innocent creature alive.”
“She is a bloody Catholic,”
the soldier yelled back, spitting on the ground as if the word had tainted his
mouth.
There were two muskets. One
of them seemed wet from fording the river. The other was dry as if the soldier
had been clever and strong enough to hold it over his head as he crossed. He
pointed the barrel at her, and Alana’s haphazard thoughts came together to
focus onto one spot, the man’s forehead. With a full breath, she inched back
her arm and put all her fear and anger into the forward flick of her wrist as
she whipped the blade around to sail through the air.
Thwack! Bang!
The gun discharged as the sgian dubh lodged through the soldier’s
skull right between his eyebrows. Alana felt the burn of the musket bullet skim
like a trail of fire across her temple and screamed, pulling back behind the
tree. She reached up to her head where blood, warm and red, trickled down like
a macabre, soaking rain. A scream, born of panic, flew up her throat and cut
through the cold air as she stared at the red smeared across her hand.
***
Shaw was in mid-leap over a bramble when the musket fired up
at Alana. Her scream tore through him, his arms pumping at his sides as he ran
toward her, his sword clutched and thirsty for more English blood. He watched
as one soldier slumped forward, face smacking into the leaves and roots of the
large maple that the clever lass must have climbed. A second soldier held his
musket up at the tree but then threw it down when it wouldn’t fire, racing to
grab up the musket of his fallen man.
Alana screamed again, a long,
fear-filled yell that tore through Shaw. He wouldn’t let her die in such panic.
Nay! He wouldn’t let her die at all.
He hurtled over another
bramble as the second man quickly reloaded the matchlock musket that had just
fired. The soldier was well trained and raised the gun toward Alana, whom Shaw
could see hiding behind the trunk up over the man’s head.
“Deamhan Die!” Shaw yelled, his roar making the third soldier turn
toward him, sword out.
Alana screamed again, as if
she had just refilled her lungs with air, the sound shattering through the
trees around them like lightning striking Shaw’s entire body. But the soldier
with the sword blocked Shaw’s path to the one with the musket. He met the man’s
blade with his own just as the large hound pushed off the trunk of the tree,
charging directly toward the soldier holding the gun. His bark changed into a
ferocious growl.
Shaw swung at the English
soldier before him, his daily training giving him the advantage. It was as if
Shaw knew where the man would strike before he swung, easily blocking his
advance. His focus slid behind his opponent to the massive dog who had leapt
directly onto the soldier with the gun. The man screamed, the dog’s jaw locked
around his arm as he yanked the man completely off his feet, whipping him
around in the leaves with incredible strength.
The soldier fighting Shaw
sneered as he came in close, their swords crossed. “The babe will die either
today or on another, but God willing, it will die along with all the
blasphemous Catholics.”
“Well, God and I had a talk
this morn,” Shaw said, his words seething, “and He decided that ye will die
today instead.”
About Heather McCollum:
Heather
McCollum is an award-winning, historical romance writer. She currently has
twenty published novels and is an Amazon Best Selling author. She is a 2015
Readers’ Choice winner and a member of Heart of Carolina Romance Writers.
The ancient
magic and lush beauty of Great Britain entranced Ms. McCollum’s heart and
imagination when she visited there years ago. The country’s history and
landscape have been a backdrop for her writing ever since.
When she is
not creating vivid characters and settings, she spends her time educating women
on the symptoms of Ovarian Cancer. She has recently slayed the cancer beast and
resides with her very own Highland hero and three spirited children in the
wilds of suburbia on the mid-Atlantic coast.
Connect with Heather:
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