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Milord's Highland Captive: A Short Historical Romance
Milord's Highland Captive: A Short Historical Romance
Milord's Highland Captive: A Short Historical Romance
Ebook45 pages46 minutes

Milord's Highland Captive: A Short Historical Romance

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While Ailsa expects to be bartered into marriage to strengthen her clan's position, she never expected to be sold into the bed of an Englishman, even if it will bring peace to their warring borderlands. But escaping Lord Deverell, who is clearly delighted with his highland bride, may prove harder than leaving her beloved home behind for he is not a man to be ignored, especially in the bedroom.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherKate Harper
Release dateJul 8, 2011
ISBN9781465706744
Milord's Highland Captive: A Short Historical Romance
Author

Kate Harper

Kate Harper is a designer in Berkeley, California who is inspired by the intersection of art and technology. She is active in the new media, art licensing and DIY arts communities in the San Francisco Bay area.

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  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Great premise for a story, I wish it had been longer. I noticed that it was not edited very well.

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Milord's Highland Captive - Kate Harper

Milord’s Highland Captive

Kate Harper

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Kate Harper 2011

Discover other titles by Kate Harper at

http://www.Kate-Harper.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

‘I’ll not do it.’ Ailsa said flatly. Her face was a mask, the smooth ivory pallor a striking contrast to a wealth of red-gold hair and wide green eyes.

Ian Douglas, Laird of Dromach, eyed his only daughter grimly. ‘Aye, but you will an’ all. I know this is not to your liking and I can understand why. But there’s more in this than just you, lass. You have a duty to your family.’

‘A duty to marry an Englishman?’ Ailsa returned incredulously. ‘I would have done my duty to my house had you but chosen someone worthy, but a Sassenach?’ There was no disguising her disgust.

‘An alliance with this particular Sassenach will see peace come to the borders. An’ his lordship is no fool. I’ve met the man and you could do worse. He has a solid look about him.’

Ailsa eyed her father, green eyes kindling with barely suppressed wrath. She had always considered herself a dutiful daughter. Marriages to strengthen clans were a common occurrence and she had accepted the fact that one day she might have to leave Dromach and go to a marriage bed that would forge bonds between two clans. A daughter might be well loved but she was still a commodity, after all.

But marriage to an Englishman? That she would not countenance! ‘They’re heathens Father! To go and live among them… I would rather die!’

‘Such sacrifice will not be called upon.’ Her father said dryly, ‘He’ll be here on the morrow to meet you lass. I expect you dressed in your best with a smile on your face. I have allowed you many a liberty but it’s time to put them aside and bide your station. That’s the end of it Ailsa. You will heed me.’

Ailsa, watching her father walk from the room, thought differently. A dutiful daughter she may have been for the past eighteen years but there were surely limits to what duty demanded. Her father could not have punished her more if he had decided to send her to a nunnery! She was meant to meet her intended the next day and be all sweetness and light, to charm the fool with soft words and a sweet face.

But much as she honored her father, that was not how it was going to be. If this Englishman wanted a Scottish lass for his wife, he would learn quickly enough that she had no desire to take an English fool for a husband…

In the mist that drifted down across the glen like a bridal veil, Dromach Castle looked the picture of peace, its twin grey towers rising against a back drop of green and brown, a dense forest of pine rising behind it.

Thomas Tullock, Lord Deverell stood on the crest of a small rise and contemplated the land below him with grim grey eyes. As beautiful as the scene was, he would have given much not to be standing where he was

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