Publication Date: April 27, 2021

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Love

Genres: Adult, Entangled: Amara, Historical, Highlander, Romance

Joshua Sinclair was once the fiercest and most notorious warrior of the mighty Sinclair clan of Northern Scotland. But now there’s nothing and no one that can make him take up arms again. Except a beautiful woman, it seems.

When Kára Flett, daughter of a fallen Norse chief, finds herself unexpectedly sheltering the strongest, most brutal warrior in the land, she throws together a risky and outrageous plan to bring him to her side. Threats of violence bounce right off him. Offers of gold seem to entice him even less. Desperate enough to use the pleas of the village children to sway him, she’s shocked when he’s completely unmoved. There’s only one tactic left for her: seduction.

Her hasty proposition falls completely by the wayside, though, as she and the Highlander come together in a carnal inferno. But bringing him into her life also brings his enemies to her clan’s doorstep—the very clan Kára is trying to protect. And as their feelings deepen, Joshua will have to decide between duty and love once and for all.

Excerpt

Joshua whipped around, his fingers going to his mouth where he blew two short whistles. A neigh, from behind one of the buildings, tore through the growing twilight. Yells followed. Bandits. Fools! Fuil was a warhorse and listened to no one but him. The only thing that would have made him move was a treat dangled before him. Damn horse thieves!

Maybe Robert’s rant about the native people eating horseflesh was true. Had he starved his people enough to turn them into barbarians?

Joshua ran around the side of the thatched cottage, skidding to a halt before three men trying to control his raging steed. Their eyes were wide as they raised hands to the snorting beast, the whites of Fuil’s eyes showing and his ears laid back. The horse could kill them on his own, but the thieves might injure his friend. Fury roared in Joshua’s ears, and energy shot through his blood at the thought that they would steal him. And eat him!

Barely noting that the woman from the tavern stood nearby, he drew his sword from the scabbard strapped to his back, stalking forward. Sucking in large swaths of air through his nostrils, he prepared to win this contest by intimidation alone.

One of the fiends turned to see him advancing, his panicked eyes growing even wider. He had no sword and raised his fists before him, the snorting horse behind him. Damn. The thief was young, probably only recently growing into his pitiful beard.

The second man was dressed in ragged clothing, insufficient against the cold. He held a dagger and a wild glare.

The third bastard surged toward Joshua, sword held by his two hands, striking downward. Joshua met the attack, the two blades clanging together. Desperate or foolish? Joshua wasn’t sure, but the man seemed immune to intimidation. Joshua easily parried the man’s lunge, spinning to bring his elbow down at the base of the man’s skull, knocking him flat, his face in the dirt.

Pivoting to the man holding his puny dagger, he yelled, “I will jam your own blade into your foolish skull.”

The man’s lips curled back as he spit. “There are worse things.” It was the look of desperation that made Joshua drop his sword to the turf. Even a horse thief could lose hope. That did not mean he deserved to be skewered.

In two strides, Joshua knocked the dagger from the man’s hand and threw a punch into his nose, dropping him to the ground without any effort.

“Foking monster!” the barely-a-man yelled. He charged, his fists still raised. Joshua held up his own fists, but instead of swinging at the lad, he swiped his leg across as he sidestepped, tripping the thief, who fell hard. Three steps back, Joshua swooped up his sword and spun back to Fuil.

“Stop!” came a voice from the road. Fire ripped across the outside of Joshua’s upper arm. He looked down to see a slice in his tunic where a dagger had cut through as it grazed him, the weapon skidding across the pebbled ground beyond. He’d been merciful with the thieves and yet they sought to kill him.

Rage added even more strength to his sword arm. Lifting it high, he spun and charged toward the foe who had drawn his blood.

“No!” screamed the woman from the shadows, but Joshua didn’t slow.

A part of him realized she ran toward them, but he focused on his enemy. The thrower’s size broke through Joshua’s fury. Round eyes. Thin frame. Pale, shocked face. It was a boy, a young boy. Just like…

At the last second, Joshua diverted the thrust of his sword, swinging it down along the lad’s side, and skidded to a halt. Breathing hard, he loomed over the boy. The promise of death surfaced on his face, one that would hopefully stick in the lad’s nightmares so he wouldn’t fight someone three times his size again.

“Ye bloodied me.”

“Stop!” yelled the woman, grabbing Joshua’s injured arm. Before the frightened lad could respond, the young thief, who Joshua had tripped, yanked the boy around, yelling at him in their local dialect. The two of them ran off into the growing darkness, their arms pumping.

The woman dropped her hold on him and clenched her hands together. Her chest rose and fell. The other two men remained unconscious where they had fallen, and Fuil stepped over their prone bodies as he came up to Joshua. The horse nosed him as if asking where his treat had ended up.

“Fuil,” he mumbled, letting the chill in the wind calm his anger. “Your blasted stomach gets us into such bloody trouble.”

Joshua watched the worry mix with anger on the woman’s fine features, and she finally turned away from the lads who faded into the shadows. She murmured something in her ancient language and grabbed his arm to inspect the wound.

“Do ye know them?” he asked.

“This needs to be cleaned, but no stitches are warranted.” She squatted to catch together a small pile of fresh snow, standing to wipe the blood from the cut.

He caught her chin to bring her gaze up to his, her eyes growing round for a split second before narrowing. Questions pressed within him. Who are you? Were you helping them? Why were you standing back watching? But answers to those questions might lead her to walk away from him, for which he was definitely not ready.

He leaned in, tethering her gaze completely. “Were they going to eat my horse?”

Her lips rose into a grin, and she jerked back, breaking free of his hold. “No, Highlander. Despite Lord Robert’s lies, we do not eat horseflesh. Although, if the choice between eating you or eating your horse arose…” She squeezed his arm as if testing the meat on his bones. “No, even then your horse would be safe.” She shook her head. “I would choose to eat you.”

His frown relaxed, and for a moment they stared at each other. Her mouth softened with the faintest hint of humor. The wind calmed, the snow falling straight down to catch in her pale hair. “It is good to know my faithful steed is secure.”

“Do you not worry for yourself?” Her gaze traveled down his form. “Because ye look…delicious.”

Lightning coursed through his body at her words, making his jack awaken below the layers of his woolen plaid. Although, he was fairly certain it had been paying attention since he’d seen her standing in the tavern, all curves and long legs.

“I can take care of myself,” he said. Her brow rose, and Joshua watched as the tip of her tongue came out to touch the edge of her bottom lip. Heat began to roll through him. Was he reading her signals correctly? A woman like this did not seem like the type to tease. She seemed more like someone who knew what she wanted and almost always got it. And if she wanted him right now, he, bloody hell, wouldn’t refuse her.

“Did ye find a place for my horse and me to stay for the night?” he asked, keeping his gaze locked to hers. Snowflakes swirled about, hitting his cheeks.

The intensity in the woman’s almond-shaped eyes made the rest of the world disappear, even the bite in the sea breeze. “Aye,” she said, sliding a finger up to tuck the wisps of her hair behind her ear. “You can stay with me. That is, if you can find me.”

His heart beat faster at her words, and his grin grew. “Ye are right here, so I have already won.”

Without warning, she spun, jogging inland away from the village. Was the woman insane? Where would she go? There were no trees in which to hide, and the landscape of rolling hills was free of most dwellings. “I will find ye easily. I have a horse, lass,” he called, noticing the twilight was deepening quickly.

She turned to jog backward. “And I have cunning, Highlander,” she called and raced off. He watched her run, the sway of her braid like an entrancing pendulum. She glanced several times over her shoulder as if making sure he would follow, but her form was quickly fading into the darkening landscape.

He strode to Fuil to mount but yelled over his shoulder, “I can easily run ye down and catch ye.”

Her laughter floated back to him on the twilight wind.

Kára pumped her arms as she ran, her boots easily finding purchase on the familiar moor. He will follow.

A man like the infamous Joshua Sinclair, Horseman of War, would not turn away from a challenge. When he’d walked into the tavern, she had known instantly who he was. Very few were as large as the Highland warrior and no one as darkly handsome. The first things one noticed about Joshua Sinclair were his broad shoulders and towering height, which displayed his muscular frame so perfectly that he resembled the pictures her brother drew of the warrior Danes from long ago. He wore the belted wool wrappings of his homeland around his narrow hips and fur leg wraps above his boots. His hands were large and calloused from holding the massive sword strapped across his back.

When he’d stared into her eyes, his full mouth curving into a seductive smile over white teeth, heat had slid down through Kára, like honey warmed in the sun. Now that was a reaction to capture a woman’s notice, but her plan was still ridiculous. What the hell was she thinking, baiting him to chase after her? Her grandmother’s words rang in her ears. We need to find a warrior to lead us to victory against Robert Stuart. Joshua Sinclair was the largest, deadliest warrior on Orkney, and probably all of Scotland.

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About the Author

Heather McCollum is an award winning, historical paranormal and YA romance writer. She earned her B.A. in Biology, much to her English professor’s dismay. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood of 2009 Golden Heart finalists. The ancient magic and lush beauty of Great Britain entrances Ms. McCollum’s heart and imagination every time she visits. The country’s history and landscape have been a backdrop for her writing ever since her first journey across the pond. When she is not creating vibrant characters & magical adventures on the page, she is roaring her own battle cry in the war against ovarian cancer. Ms. McCollum recently slayed the cancer beast and resides with her very own Highland hero, rescued golden retriever & 3 kids in the wilds of suburbia on the mid-Atlantic coast.

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