By: Kathleen Harrington
He is Lachlan MacRath, laird and pirate. And he intends to be her lover…
Lady Francine Walsingham could not believe this fierce Highland warrior is to be her escort into Scotland. It is whispered that Lachlan MacRath has magical powers…how else do you explain why her countrymen call him the Sorcerer of the Seas? But trust him she must, for a treacherous plot is about to reveal all her secrets…and Francine has no choice but to act as his lover to keep her enemies at bay.
When Lachlan first sees Francine, the English beauty stirs his blood like no woman has ever before. As luck would have it, they must now play the besotted couple so he can protect her ….and Lachlan is determined to use all his seductive prowess to properly woo her into his bed.
To get started can you tell us what you are working on or have coming out?
I'm presently working on the third and last book of my
Trilogy. The series is centered on three half-brothers, each a clan chief
in his own right, who are privateers during the reign of James IV of . The brothers carry
letters of marque and reprisal issued by their king, which allow them to
capture enemy ships preying on Scottish merchantmen. Scotland
The first book, THE MAC LEAN GROOM, is set in the Scottish Highlands. It's the story of the oldest brother, Rory MacLean, who is ordered by King James to wed the Maid of Glencoe, the chief of the rebellious Macdonald clan. Lady Joanna has no intention of marrying her enemy, however, and disguises herself as a serving lad to hide from her unwanted bridegroom. Joanna's suspicion that Rory hides the tail of a sea dragon beneath his kilt, and her efforts to discover the truth without compromising her hopes for an annulment, only serve to bring her into close proximity to a determined and resourceful warrior bent on her seduction.
Tell us about a favorite character from a book.
One of my favorite characters is Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I admire Lizzie's intelligence and wit and her devotion to her quirky family. She recognizes her mother's flighty self-indulgence, her father's cravenly retreats to his study, her younger sisters' silliness around the military officers, but she remains fiercely loyal to them all. When Mr. Darcy criticizes her family, she becomes furious, telling him he is the last man on earth she could ever marry. Only after he comes to their assistance and saves the family from social ruin, does Lizzie begin to perceive the depth of his character and his love for her.
Does travel play in the writing of your books?
Oh, yes. I love to travel to the places I plan to write about. I have visited
and Scotland and .
Having seen Wales
and the surrounding countryside helped me visualize the setting of my latest
release. I've traveled the same approximate route from London London
that Princess Margaret Tudor and her retinue followed on her journey to wed the
Scottish king. My story, Edinburgh LACHLAN'S BRIDE, is
woven around this historic trip. I stopped overnight in , staying in a former coaching inn, much
as my hero and heroine did. Of course, I made the trip by car! York
Tell us about your current release.
LACHLAN'S BRIDE, the second book in the Highland Lairds Trilogy will be released as an Avon Impulse on April 30th. It's currently on pre-sale.
I had a wonderful time writing this book because of the humorous scenes relating to Lady Francine's belief that Lachlan MacRath is a sorcerer. What seems so improbable to us at the present time remained a certain belief throughout the Middle Ages.
Tell us about your next release.
I'm presently writing the story of the third brother, Keir MacNeil. Lady Raine Cameron, whom readers will have met in the first and second books of the series, stows away on Keir's ship, the Black Raven. He has been sent to the
Hebrides by King James to quell a rebellion of the Lord
of the Isles. Raine is in frantic search of the father she has never met,
before Laird MacNeil finds and kills him. The working title is KEIR'S STORY.
I want to thank you for inviting me today and for giving me a chance to get acquainted with your readers. I can be found at the following places:
The Cheviot Hills
The Border between England and Scotland
Stretched flat on the blood-soaked ground, Lachlan MacRath gazed up at the cloudless morning sky and listened to the exhausted moans of the wounded.
The dead and the dying lay scattered across the lush spring grass. Overhead the faint rays of dawn broke above the hilltops, as the buttercups and bluebells dipped and swayed in the soft breeze. The gruesome corpses were sprawled amidst the wildflowers, their vacant eyes staring upward to the heavens, the stumps of their severed arms and legs still oozing blood and gore. Dented helmets, broken swords, axes, and pikes gave mute testimony to the ferocity of the combatants. Here and there, a loyal destrier, trained to war, grazed calmly alongside its fallen master.
Following close upon daylight, the scavengers would come creeping, ready to strip the bodies of anything worth a shilling: armor, dirks, boots, belts. If they were Scotsmen, he'd be in luck. If not, he'd soon be dead. There wasn't a blessed thing he could do but wait. He was pinned beneath his dead horse, and all efforts to free himself during the night had proven fruitless.
In the fierce, running battle of the evening before, the warriors on horseback had left behind all who'd fallen. Galloping across the open, rolling countryside, Scots and English had fought savagely, till it was too dark to tell friend from foe. There was no way of knowing the outcome of the battle, for victory had been determined miles away.
Hell, it was Lachlan's own damn fault. He'd come on the foray into England with King James for a lark. After delivering four new canons to the castle at Roxburgh, along with the Flemish master gunners to fire them, he'd decided not to return to his ship immediately as planned. The uneventful crossing on the Sea Hawk from the Low Countries to Edinburgh, followed by the tedious journey to the fortress, with the big guns pulled by teams of oxen, had left him eager for a bit of adventure.
When he'd learned that the king was leading a small force into Northumberland to retrieve cattle raided by Sassenach outlaws, the temptation to join them had been too great to resist. There was nothing like a hand-to-hand skirmish with his ancient foe to get a man's blood pumping through his veins.
But Lord Dacre, Warden of the Marches, had surprised the Scots with a much larger, well-armed force of his own, and what should have been a carefree rout turned into deadly combat.
A plea for help interrupted Lachlan's brooding thoughts. Not far away, a wounded English soldier, who'd cried out in pain during the night, raised himself up on one elbow.
"Lychester! Over here, sir! It's Will Jeffries!"
Lachlan watched from beneath slit lids as another Sassenach came into view. Attired in the splendid armor of the nobility, the newcomer rode a large, caparisoned black horse. He'd clearly come looking for someone, for he held the reins of a smaller chestnut, its saddle empty and waiting.
"Here I am, Marquess," the young man named Jeffries called weakly. He lifted one hand in a trembling wave as the marquess of Lychester drew near to his countryman. Dismounting, he approached the wounded soldier.
"Thank God," Jeffries said with a hoarse groan. "I've taken a sword blade in my thigh. The cut's been oozing steadily. I was afraid I wouldn't make it through the night."
Lychester didn't say a word. He came to stand behind the injured man, knelt down on one knee, and raised his fallen comrade to a seated position. Grabbing a hank of his yellow hair, the marquess jerked the fair head back and deftly slashed the exposed throat from ear to ear. Then he calmly wiped his blade on the youth's doublet, lifted him up in his arms, and threw the body face down over the chestnut's back.
The English nobleman glanced around, checking, no doubt, to see if there'd been a witness to the cold-blooded execution. Lachlan held his breath and remained motionless, his lids lowered over his eyes. Apparently satisfied, the marquess mounted, grabbed the reins of the second horse and rode away.
Lachlan slowly exhaled.
He knew the English were a bloodthirsty race. But he hadn't thought that included the murder of a helpless patriot on a deserted battlefield.
What kind of bastard did such a traitorous thing?
KATHLEEN HARRINGTON, winner of the Colorado Romance Writers’ Award of Excellence, has touched the hearts of readers across the country with her sparkling tales of high adventure and unending love. Her historical romances have been finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA, The Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Awards, the Virginia Romance Writers’ HOLT Medallion, and the Phoenix Desert Rose Golden Quill. Her fabulous heroes have garnered the KISS (Knight in Shining Silver) Award. She lives in Southern California.