[The Highland Warlord Series 02] • The Highlander's War Prize

Castles and hearts are under siege.

Giselle de Villers is sent to Northumberland to wed, but when a Scots hoard besieges her betrothed’s castle, she falls prey to vicious predator, Banan MacGregor. Salvation, of sorts, comes in the shape of handsome Lyall Buchanan, who wins her as his war prize and takes her for ransom.

Carried off into the Highlands, Giselle has to suffer the protection of a savage Scot who is as wild and unpredictable as his moorland home. But he is also a sight to behold and more of a man than anyone she has ever met. Soon, Giselle is in danger of losing not only her freedom, but also her virtue and her heart. As she tries to resist Lyall’s practised seduction, Banan’s urge to possess her grows to murderous proportions.

Lyall Buchanan has become two men. Haunted by the rigours of war, he is torn between the ruthless fighter he has to be to survive, and the honourable man he once was. When innocent Giselle de Villers needs protection, he steps in. Telling himself he wants the ransom her rich father will pay, Lyall drags her into Scotland. But feelings that lay buried, start to resurface, and soon, the soft, English lass becomes more than just an enemy and a burden. Giselle is at his mercy, so, if she yields to him, is it through passion, or fear? When evil threatens to tear them apart, how far will he go, how low will he sink, for love?

As storm clouds gather around the throne of Scotland, a reckoning approaches, and a fight to the death, in one final, bloody siege - for freedom and for love.

The Highlander’s War Prize takes the reader on a journey of temptation, seduction and conquest, through the moors of Scotland, into its deep lochs and soaring glens.

This is a high stakes, adult romance, and there may be triggers for some people.

Extract

‘Strange, isn’t it, how the world turns? When I attacked this castle, I hoped there would be a great prize hidden inside it. I did not find it. Instead, I am burdened with you, a frightened, English lass who shakes when I look sideways at her.’

‘If you don’t want me, why fight over me?’

‘Who says I don’t want you?’ He came up to her and put a filthy hand into her hair, running it through the red waves and twirling a strand between his fingers. Giselle tried to breathe, but she could not seem to get enough air into her lungs. Lyall Buchanan smelled of blood and sweat and iron and seemed more animal than man.

‘Your hair is like copper, so beautiful,’ he said, holding her eyes with his. ‘You are the first pure and honest thing I have seen in a long time. You remind me of my sister. She is about your age, bonnie like you, but not quite so soft in her manners.’

The way this man was looking at her was anything but brotherly. Giselle stared up into his green eyes, and though he smiled down at her, there was some kind of sadness in them.

He sighed heavily. ‘I could just reach out and take you now, and it would be my right.’

‘What right is that?’

‘You are the spoils of war, a prize, for risking my life for my King. I could ease my loneliness and the ache in my loins.’

For one insane moment, Giselle wondered what it would be like to have this Scot’s full lips pressed to hers, his hands taking hold of her and pulling her close. No man had ever looked on her with such open admiration before, and she so needed comfort, so wanted to feel safe, if just for a moment. But no Scot was safe, nor could they be trusted.

‘You won’t do that,’ she gasped.

‘How do you know? Seems to me you know little of men, or what they turn into when their blood is up.’