Out
Now – Finding My Highlander by Aleigha Siron (@AleighaSiron) #FindingMyHighlander
Blurb
On a windswept cliff above San Francisco Bay Scotland
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.
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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.
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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