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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