He stole her away... But she set him free...
The
Highlander’s Sin
Stolen Bride, #6
by Eliza Knight
The
Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . The Highlander’s Sin (Stolen Bride, #6)
. . . I found this read to be pretty fun with the interaction between
soon-to-be priest and lady. The action, adventure, medieval romance shows a
different heroine with backbone, strength, courage, even in the face of an
enemy that wants to harm her. The thing that took me for the biggest ride was
the warrior for hire that was also a priest in waiting. He found that passion
that burned in his soul and it was not the vengeance he thought he needed. Aye and the history factor with William
Wallace making an appearance.
For those that love historical romance,
in particular medieval romance this would be a read that will interest you.
There are touches of history, annoying and feisty heroine, and vengeful and
determined mercenary priest. Ayes and a lot of predictability. It’s the way
that Eliza Knight brings it all together that makes the read enjoyable and reminiscent
at the same time.
Stolen Brides series:
The Highlander's Temptation – The
Stolen Bride, #.5
The Highlander's Reward – The
Stolen Bride, #1
The Highlander's Conquest – The
Stolen Bride, #2
The Highlander's Lady – The
Stolen Bride, #3
The Highlander's Warrior Bride – The
Stolen Bride, #4
The
Highlander's Triumph – The Stolen Bride, #5
The Highlander's Sin – The
Stolen Bride, #6
Wild Highland Mistletoe – The
Stolen Bride, #6.5
BLURB
He stole her away… But she set him
free…
They called him The Priest. Maybe
because of his billowing black robes and the steel crucifix that hung around
his neck. Or perhaps it was because those who met him were compelled to pray.
But Duncan Mackay was anything but a saint. He was a sinner—a paid mercenary.
Until he met her, and she made him want to change his ways.
Lady Heather Sutherland, has never
been compelled to follow rules. And this time, she’s gone too far. Following in
the footsteps of her brothers and cousins, she chooses to join the fight for
Scottish freedom—and gets herself abducted by a handsome, rogue warrior, whose
touch is sweet sin.
Duncan’s duty was clear—steal Heather
away from Dunrobin Castle. What he didn’t expect, was to be charmed by her spirit
and rocked by her fiery kiss. Now, he doesn’t want deliver her to those who
hired him, instead he wants to keep her all to himself.
Dunrobin Castle, Scottish
Highlands
Summer, 1300
STONE cobbles were
certainly the most uncomfortable place for knees to rest. Lady Heather,
youngest sister to the powerful Earl of Sutherland, knelt before the altar in
the family’s chapel. Even with the protection of layers of fabric between her
bones and the flooring, she could feel bruises forming beneath the calluses on
her knees.
The castle’s drafts had
yet to reach this corner of space within the towers, and as a result, sweat
dripped in unladylike fashion down her temples and spine. What she wouldn’t
give to at least be able to fan herself, but she dared not move her hands from
their place firmly pressed together in prayer.
Today would prove to be
sweltering if the heat before dawn was any indication. And since Heather had an
aversion to heat, she was more than likely going to be in a sour mood. The
heaviness of the many layers she wore didn’t help the situation. Nor what she
was about to do.
The chapel was dark, save
the four candles she’d lit. The sun had yet to rise, and the three narrow
windows, newly fixed with stained glass, let in none of the moon’s silver
light.
Heather came to pray each
morning, every morning, before the family rose. Typically because she had a lot
more to confess than most. She was the first to admit she was not easy on her
older brother, Magnus. Nor her aunts, any of her siblings, cousins and the
staff in general. She might even be willing to admit that she single-handedly
provided for their chaplain’s wealth, given that she was constantly slipping
coins into his purse as penance or to buy an extra blessing.
But today was different.
On this day, she was going
to change her future, forever.
The Scottish rebellion
still raged on, despite the horrendous loss at the Battle of Falkirk. Heather
wanted to be a part of it. Why should her brothers and cousins have all the
fun? Before the rest of the household woke to say prayers, Heather planned to
be well on her way to finding William Wallace. The man had taken a step back in
the war for freedom. After their great loss, the warrior must have felt
downtrodden, for he simply handed the reins of battle over to another. She was going
to persuade him to rise up once more, to fight for what he thought was right,
what she knew was right.
Robert the Bruce was not
yet king—and though he was rumored to have sided with the English, Heather just
couldn’t believe it. After all, Bruce and Red Comyn were now overseeing the
resistance, but they lacked the heart of Wallace. The way Heather saw it,
Wallace could turn a sheepherder into a seasoned warrior, and might even have
the power to turn Englishmen into Scots—the latter was a bit of a reach, but
just went to prove how much she believed in him.
A scraping to her left
jolted Heather from her prayer. She sat back on her heels, hand falling to her
hip where a twelve-inch dagger was slipped into its sheath.
“Who’s there?” Her voice
echoed through the chapel.
A shadowy figure lurked
just beyond the benches in the corner where their chaplain’s chamber was.
Looked like a hulk of black. If she’d been more superstitious, she might have
thought the devil was coming to pay her a visit like Aunt Fiona always
threatened.
“Father Hurley?” She
swiped a drip of sweat from her eyes. “Is that ye? Come away from the shadows.”
A shiver of fear skittered
over her spine, settling like a solid stone in her belly.
The figure didn’t move.
Heather swallowed her fear
and stood up, straightening her shoulders as much as she could, squaring her
jaw. “Come into the light at once,” she ordered.
The shadow moved along the
wall toward the front of the chapel. Heather followed him with her eyes. ’Twas
not the devil but a man. Most definitely not Father Hurley. He was taller by at
least a foot—and wide by about the same. His black robes billowed around his
form, swishing around his ankles with each step, and sending whispers of fear
with every move. The silver chain around his neck swung the large crucifix it
held like a pendulum. Back and forth.
A man of the cloth? Her
hair prickled. He looked like death come to take her.
Heather stared at the
cross, at the man in robes, hypnotized by his stealthy, calculated movements,
her eyes wide and immobilized. She finally blinked when they stung with
dryness.
“Are ye new to Dunrobin?”
she asked, refusing to believe he might be the reaper and wondering why no one
had told her there was a new priest.
He stopped a few feet
away, just outside the line of light from the candles.
“Nay.” His voice was deep,
dark, and slid over her body shamefully, in a way that made her want to hear
him speak again.
Lord, help her impetuous
nature.
Heather made a sign of the
cross. “I’ve not seen ye before now.” The slight quiver in her tone made her
angry.
He didn’t answer. A long
pause of silence ensued, making her uncomfortable. Her skin prickled.
“Where is Father Hurley?
What are ye doing in here?” The questions tumbled from her tongue.
The man pointed toward the
chaplain’s chamber. “He is there. Sleeping.”
Again that voice. Why did
she like it so much? “And ye? What are ye doing out here? I’m…I’m praying. I
want privacy.” She lifted her chin another notch, hoping the odd priest would
leave her be, that he hadn’t noticed the slight stutter of her words. When she
saw her brother Magnus, she was going to tell him about this odd priest and how
uncomfortable he made her. Zounds! She wouldn’t get the chance before she left…
The dawn of her new life would begin today. A note then. She would tell Magnus
in a note.
“I’m afraid ye won’t be
getting any privacy, my lady.” Confidence dripped from his words and slid over
her skin in a way that felt wicked.
“Ye are not to talk to me
in such a manner.” No matter how hard she tried, she sounded petulant rather
than in control.
“And ye need to hold your
tongue, ye saucy wench.”
Heather gasped, blanched.
Pressed a hand to her chest and took a step back in shock. “What?”
“Ye heard me.” An
underlying tone of amusement captured his voice.
Indeed she had, but no one
had ever, ever, talked to her like that before.
“How dare ye?” She
seethed, gripped her fingers around her dagger, though what she’d do with it,
she had no clue. Killing a man of the cloth was a sin she’d never be able to
pay her way out of.
“Enough bluster, my lady.
I need ye to come with me.”
Author Info
Eliza Knight is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of sizzling historical romance and time-travel erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens riveting historical fiction. She runs the award-winning blog, History Undressed. When not reading, writing and researching, she likes to cuddle up in front of a warm fire with her own knight in shining armor.
Author Links:
Connect with her at http://www.elizaknight.com or http://www.historyundressed.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/CSFFD. Follow her on social media at:
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