When Maggie Spencer is mysteriously
transported to the Scotland of her ancestors, she is stunned to come face to
face with him. Dominic Dundragon, the
man she’s been half in love with her whole life. A man who’s been dead for 700
years.
They both have enemies aplenty. Will she
have a chance to win his love, or will this adventure end in disaster?
Read
an excerpt
Maggie yelped as, without warning, the
burly warrior named Declan whipped her up into his arms and tossed her over his
shoulder. To her horror, she lost the hold on her locket.
“Wait,” she cried. She wriggled to get
free, but his grip was too hard. When she pummeled his back with her fists as
he strode from the circle of stones, he chuckled. The beast. But to be fair, he
was so large, it would have felt like a kitten batting him. “Put me down.”
“I willna,” he said. “The Mackintosh will
decide how you die.”
All right. That shut her up. For a minute.
“Die? Why do I need to die?” What the hell had she done to him?
The man following, an enormous blond with a
scar tracking his cheek bent down to peer at her. “The Mackintosh’s doona
tolerate spies.”
“I’m not a spy.” Seriously. She wriggled
more and Declan smacked her ass.
Smacked
her ass.
She’d kill him when she got free. Just kill
him.
“Yer wearing the Cameron colors,” the blond
said. “And the Mackintosh’s doona—”
“Right. I know. The Mackintosh’s doona tolerate spies.” Her head was starting
to spin from being upside down and jounced around with each step. Her temper
was on a short leash. “But honestly, if I were a spy, would I wear the Cameron
colors? It seems a little counterproductive in my opinion. I mean, if I’m spying and all. I might as wear a sign
that says, oh, I dunno, honk if you love
spies.”
His brow rumpled but he didn’t respond. At
least, not to her. “She speaks strangely,” he complained to Declan.
Her captor snorted a laugh. “She dresses
strangely too.”
“Aye. She does at that. I’ve heard the
Cameron lasses are a wild lot, but I had no idea—”
“I’m. Not. A. Cameron.” She reached out and
smacked the blond, but only because he came close enough. He reared back and
gaped at her—as though he’d never been smacked before—and then he quickly moved
out of range.
It hardly mattered, because, apparently,
they had reached their destination, a camp on the edge of the woods. The sounds
of nickering horses and clanks of pots gave her her first clue—she was facing
the other way, after all.
Her second clue was that Declan dropped her
on the ground. She landed with an oof.
She glared at him. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “Go get my brother,
Ewan,” he barked, and the blond trotted off to one of the larger tents.
When she stood and brushed off her jeans,
Declan bristled and she shot him a sardonic glare. Did he think she was stupid
enough to run away? For one thing, these enormous men had her surrounded. For
another, she never ran. Not if she could help it.
Instead, she made a quick survey of her
surroundings. The camp was little more than a huddle of tents with the forest
on one side and a sweeping plain on the other. A small herd of horses were
hobbled to one side and a deer roasted over a pit fire. An entire deer. Before
she could silence the thought—she often had that problem—she said, “You killed
Bambi.”
Declan’s brow rumpled. “I dinna kill
anyone.” And then he asked, “Who is Bambi?”
“Never mind.” She crossed her arms and
turned away pretending to ignore them. But she wasn’t. She was aware they were
all staring at her like she was a curiosity in a zoo, but she was taking in
tiny details as well. Like the fact that their clothes were all handmade and
simple. Their hair appeared to have been cut with a chainsaw and their beards
were scraggly and long. Their weapons were what made her mind really start to
spin though.
One held a crossbow that dated from the thirteenth
century. Another had a Mackintosh dirk that resembled one she’d seen in a
museum once. Declan had a simple calfskin sporran tied to his belt.
Odd. Could she have wandered into some
renaissance faire? But no. It had been evening when she stepped into the woods
and now it was daytime. Early afternoon. And the acres of woods around the
house belonged to the family. It couldn’t be—
“So.” She flinched as a deep, melodious
voice wafted to her on a hint of humor. Shivers danced through her, along with
a prickling sense of premonition. “You’ve captured a Cameron spy?”
She turned slowly and froze as her gaze
landed on him. On that so-familiar
face. Broad, handsome, savage. Much more captivating than the sketch had been.
Much more captivating by far.
She must be hallucinating. She had to be.
He was the hero of her dreams come to life.
Dominic Dundragon, Laird of the Mackintosh
clan.
Large, looming and in the flesh.
Her head went woozy. Her vision blurred.
And then, for the first time in her life, she fainted.
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ABOUT
SABRINA YORK
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New
York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart
and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance.
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highlanders, be sure to read Sabrina York’s Untamed Highlanders from St.
Martin’s Press!
Lana and the
Laird—Coming in 2016
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