This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Christine will be awarding a $15.00 Amazon Gift Card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a $10.00 Amazon Gift Card to a randomly drawn host as well as ten MacPherson book marks to randomly drawn commenters. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Throughout the Highlands she is known as Keely, the witch woman. She is a great healer-a woman whose dreams come true. Ian MacPherson is a man who puts honor, loyalty and duty above everything. Their lives are entwined when Ian is sent by the Scottish King to bring Keely to trial for witchcraft. He is attacked and left for dead, but Keely rescues him. When he wakes, he discovers he has no memory. As he remembers his lost past, Ian finds that his need to protect the woman who has saved his life eclipses his duty to his king and country., He is a man torn between honor and duty to his country and the woman he loves.
Read an excerpt:
The innkeeper and his wife stood together by the door leading into the kitchen. The innkeeper stepped forward.
Ian noted the stairs leading to the rooms above as well as the doors that could be used for a hasty escape if needed. One of the English soldiers whispered something to one of his men and the laugher and talk came to an abrupt and jarring halt.
For a moment, they were frozen in an awkward tableau; food halfway to mouths, tankards sloshing ale onto tables--and all eyes turned toward Ian and Keely.
"Don't you dare stand there looking guilty," Ian warned Keely.
"I'm guilty of nothing and these are English soldiers, not Scottish," she reminded him indignantly. "They are after you. Not me."
His hand rested upon her back and he felt the stiffening of her spine. Good. They'd both need stiff spines to get through the night.
Ian ignored the continued silence in the room and the stares focused on them as many of the patrons waited for some type of altercation. He had remembered much, but just what the conflict between the English general and himself was, he still could not remember.
And as the increasingly tense moments drug on, he was quite sure he and Keely could not safely stay the night. Her reminder grated at him. The memory of English soldiers circling her small home and burning it to the ground ate at him.
They were after him. Enemies of his family. He could not remember why.
He ordered a meal for both of them and they sat down in a dark corner of the inn. While he ate, he watched the men with growing trepidation.
"We will not stay here," he leaned close to Keely, whispering, and breathing in the soft scent of lavender.
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