Finding My
Highlander
By
Aleigha Siron
Synopsis
On a windswept cliff above San
Francisco Bay in 2013, 27 year-old Andra Cameron, the last member of her
family, prepares to scatter her family's ashes to the wind. An earthquake
catapults her to the Scottish Highlands in 1705. She wakes, aching and bloody,
to the sound of horses thundering through the trees. Terrified and with no
other options, Andra accompanies these rugged warriors. She can't deny the
undeniable attraction that ignites between herself and the handsome but gruff
Kendrick. Will she trust him to provide protection in the harsh reality of 18th
century Scotland and with her secret, or will she find a way to return home to
the 21st century?
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.
Meet
the Author
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.
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