I really enjoyed this book by Christine Young. It has mystery, humor and, whew, steamy love scenes! An awesome group of characters
make this read very entertaining, from the tough as nails Allura to her meddlesome younger sister, Aiden. There is never a dull moment
throughout this book and you will surely not be disappointed. I can only hope that some of my favorites get a story of their own.
Well done Ms. Young.
Matilda
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More
Eddington, Scotland 1815
"You can’t plan to wed me to that--that man down there!" Allura McClellan’s heart thundered and lodged
in her throat. Balled into fists her hands trembled. "You promised I could marry for love. I thought when the last man failed to discover
this imaginary secret you think I have, you would stop this craziness. I thought you would take the ad out of the Times and the other
papers."
From the boxing ring below, fist met flesh, the sound echoing throughout. Hunter Gray whirled and ducked. He guarded
his face to block the stinging blows his opponent rained down upon him. He spun and ducked again. The man he fought countered the
attack, but he did not move fast enough. Hunter’s next jab was so fast and so hard the other man didn’t block the punch. The man staggered
backwards, blood running from his eye. Men yelled and cheered for the two combatants. Hunter paused and spoke to the man he practiced
with before the match continued once more.
Allura saw her life as she had planned it slip away as if it was grains of sand in
an hour glass. She stopped pacing and watched the men below. She turned on her father. "The ad in the Times--giving me away to any
man--you have gone too far. A marriage of convenience is barbaric. You promised." For a moment, she closed her eyes. She did not want
to acknowledge anything that went on here. It was not her fault she could not find a man she loved. What horrific bit of bad luck
had found her?
The laird cleared his throat. "Perhaps I have not gone far enough or soon enough. And the ad did not promise
you to just any man. He must be strong enough and smart enough to win your hand."
It was not Allura’s nature to allow others
to rule her fate. “These men,” she waved her hand in the air, frustration sweeping recklessly within. "They don’t want me. They come
for one reason only. They are greedy and hungry for power. You have taught me everything I need to know. I can run your estate and
all of your holdings. I’ve studied endless hours. I know the men who work for you. I swear I’ll defy your wishes. At the altar I will
say no."
The McClellan’s grin faded as quickly as it had appeared and without further thought, he said, "Perhaps not, you are
beautiful lass--one with rare promise. And," he stroked his chin, "no matter how much book learning a woman has she cannot dictate
her own life. It is up to the men in her life to make sure she is happy and provided for."
A strained silence followed. She sagged
against the stone wall. As if sensing her vulnerable position, she stiffened. Outraged and furious she looked upon her father. "They
are money grubbers and want your land--our land. They have no right to any of your estate."
The McClellan held back for a moment,
seemingly aware there was more than just a little truth in what Allura said. "How indeed?" he questioned her. Yet his smile was tight,
forced. "I grow old. I only want this land secured and my daughters happy before I die. You are twenty-two. I have given you ample
opportunity to fall in love. I thought it time to bring new blood to this land, a new man. I thought perhaps one would take your fancy."
"That
man," she began. Her hand shook when she pointed at the man who danced and whirled avoiding each blow as if he dallied in child's
play. She trembled so violently she could not speak. “Is an Englishman.”
"Hunter?" Her father queried. "Is talented with his
fists and he seems to be quick-witted also. Yes, I rather like him. He will suit you well."
White-knuckled she peered over the
battlements watching the scene below. The sunlight was blinding at times as it danced off his blue-black hair. She could see little
of him. He wore no shirt and he was clad in skin tight pants.
"He terrifies me." She spoke to her father. Hunter scared her
half-to-death. In the short time he’d been at the castle, he knew more than any of the men who came before him. He watched her and
studied her. He followed her night and day. He was relentless in his pursuit.
When she closed her eyes, she saw the ad--remembered
its words. "To any man who is able to discover my oldest daughter’s secret I will grant her hand in marriage. That man will inherit
the land, the castle, and the wealth of the McClellan’s."
"I gave you fair warning." The McClellan said with a low, half-smothered
chuckle. He leaned against the wall and watched as if mesmerized by the scene below. "I believe he is a good man. If I hadn’t already
set the rules and put the ads in the papers, I do believe I would betroth you to him this instant. So far he is my first pick."
“Betrothal
is so archaic." A chill raced down Allura’s spine. She was angry, scared, and humiliated. "You did not give me fair warning. You knew
I would not agree to the marriage, and still you had the audacity to try to arrange it."
"You are wrong. I knew you would agree.
In the end you would do what I ask. Because,” the laird paused, “if he discovers your secret and you refuse to wed him, I will still
hand over your inheritance to him.”
“You would not.”
“But I would, Allura.”
More than curious about this Englishman
and why her father would pick him over the others, she could not stop herself from asking. "Why do you like him so? What has he done
that appeals to you?"
"He is strong. You need a strong man, Allura. Just as your sisters do. I want the best for you, and I believe
Hunter Gray has the will to keep you from harming yourself. You are too inquisitive and too intrigued by the unknown. In addition
you are far too careless with your own well-being. You take too many risks with your life."
She inhaled sharply and he paused
a moment. His dark eyed gaze focused on her.
"I want grandchildren." Looking a bit chagrined the McClellan exhaled a long, deep
breath while he fumbled with the material of his shirt. "It is my fault," he told her. "If I had raised you properly after your mother’s
death, none of this would be happening now."
She smiled. Her heart warmed toward her father. For a moment, she forgot their
argument and her desire to find a man she could love. "You raised us the way you saw fit. You did a wonderful job."
He didn’t
seem to hear her words of praise or wish to acknowledge them. He continued, "If you’d had a mother, you would have known what was
expected of you, and you would have behaved in a dutiful manner."
Her smile faded. "Dutiful? You would not have had half as much
fun with us if you’d raised perfect little ladies, and you know I speak the truth."
Her father stared at her closely. "If I
had not let you grow up undisciplined, like some wild gypsy wench... If I had not taken such delight in my daughter’s unconventional
and wayward antics... If I had curbed some of those high spirits and unladylike manners..."
Once again Allura smiled. She loved
her father with all her heart. "You encouraged me to be myself."
"You didn’t believe I would carry through with my threat to
find you a husband."
"I did not."
"I dislike the fact that you are so set against this that you are losing sleep. Don’t
think for a moment the dark circles under your eyes and the lines of strain can be missed."
"But you have failed to see the solution."
He
ignored her and looked down at the boxing ring. "I find I do not have the patience I once had for the games you and your sisters play."
Her father’s back was rigid, his jaw tense. Allura had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. In this decision her father would
never back down.
"Your threats have never meant anything in the past." She paced again. The castle walls blurred in front of
her. She could not lose her freedom or the island sanctuary that had come to mean so very much to her. Far below the field resounded
with grunts and ribald male laughter.
"Ah, but I wanted only to give you a chance to find a good and honest man."
With
quiet desperation she tried to hide the terrors that beset her. "Father, we have discussed the topic often, and I have told you time
and time again--I do not wish to marry--ever." Hands clenched at her sides with her nails biting into her palms, she added, "And not
to some land-hungry Englishman who appears at the castle walls seeking to discover something that does not exist."
Her
father had the grace to flush. He was not an unreasonable man, and "tyrant" was not a word applied to the easy-going McClellan. But
Allura knew he wanted to see his daughters married and happy.
"You have no choice in this matter," he continued, his fingers
gripping the stone where they rested. "My mind is set."
"So you have put me into a lottery. The most ingenious stranger will
win my hand." She was not, however, in a congenial mood at the moment, and the fierce look she bent upon her father made him turn
away.
"I have not," he said wearily.
"You have." Her frustration and despair rose with the tempest brewing on the eastern
shore. Thunderclouds rose high in the twilight sky their color as black as midnight. She hoped the wind would die down and the whitecaps
on the ocean would ease so she could escape to her island sanctuary in a few hours. Yet the threatening storm fit her mood. Her father
was wrong about her. She never put herself in danger.
"I disagree." He spoke calmly.
Allura knew her father well enough to know
he wasn’t at peace with anything she’d said. No, he was feeling very guilty, but he was also upset with her.
She wanted to yell
and scream. Instead, she inhaled and watched the man below. He moved with an easy, fluid grace, whirling and turning, ducking then
jabbing or blocking a blow before he would spin again. She let her mind wander while she thought about her sanctuary and what a husband
would mean to her future. She would have no future. She would be confined to the castle with no freedom, never allowed to sail to
the island again.