ROMANCING THE SCOT
by May McGoldrick,
E-Original published by Swerve
Publication Date: November 14, 2017
ISBN: 9781250166906
Price: $3.99
Description
In this stunning series starter
by USA Today bestselling author May
McGoldrick, meet the new generation of Penningtons...five brothers and sisters
of passion and privilege. Enter their aristocratic world…where each will fight
injustice and find love.
Hugh
Pennington—Viscount Greysteil, Lord Justice of the Scottish Courts, hero of the
Napoleonic wars—is a grieving widower with a death wish. When he receives an
expected crate from the continent, he is shocked to find a nearly dead woman
inside. Her identity is unknown, and the handful of American coins and the
precious diamond sown into her dress only deepen the mystery.
Grace Ware
is an enemy to the English crown. Her father, an Irish military commander of
Napoleon’s defeated army. Her mother, an exiled Scottish Jacobite. When Grace
took shelter in a warehouse, running from her father’s murderers through the
harbor alleyways of Antwerp, she never anticipated bad luck to deposit her at
the home of an aristocrat in the Scottish Borders. Baronsford is the last place
she could expect to find safety, and Grace feigns a loss of memory to buy
herself time while she recovers.
Hugh is
taken by her beauty, passion, and courage to challenge his beliefs and open his
mind. Grace finds in him a wounded man of honor, proud but compassionate. When
their duel of wits quickly turns to passion and romance, Grace’s fears begin to
dissolve…until danger follows her to the very doors of Baronsford. For, unknown
to either of them, Grace has in her possession a secret that will wreak havoc
within the British government. Friend and foe are indistinguishable as lethal
forces converge to tear the two lovers apart or destroy them both.
Author Bio
Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick
(writing as May McGoldrick) weave
emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Publishing under the names of
May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written more than thirty
novels and works of nonfiction for Penguin Random House, Mira, HarperCollins,
Entangled, and Heinemann. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops
on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in
Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English in northwestern
Connecticut. They are the authors of Much Ado About Highlanders, Taming the
Highlander, and Tempest in the Highlands with SMP Swerve.
Author Links
Buy Links
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Excerpt: Romancing the Scot by May McGoldrick
Looking
the shipping crate over for damage and seeing none, he retrieved an iron crow
from a workbench. Jo was standing inside the doors, eyeing the box doubtfully
from a safe distance.
“Come
closer. It won’t bite.”
“Not
a chance. From the smell of that thing, a person would think you’re importing
cadavers. Have you also taken up being a Resurrectionist as a hobby?”
He
patted the crate affectionately. “This sweet thing has been sitting in the
bowels of a ship from Antwerp. You know what the hold of a ship smells like?”
“Actually,
I don’t.” She held a handkerchief to her nose and drew closer. “But I think
you’re correct with the reference to ‘bowels.’”
Hugh
took the first nail out. “Well, stand back, since you’ve become so prissy.
Though I recall a younger version of you leading the rest of us through bogs
and marshes that smelled no better.”
“Of
course! But as I recall, we had frogs and turtles and the occasional dragon
that needed hunting,” she replied with a smile. “Very well. Open it and let’s
see this treasure of yours.”
Prying
off the top took him only a moment. Throwing it to the side, he pulled back the
tarp that covered the basket and then stared curiously at the dark green rags
bundled at the bottom.
Leaning
in, Hugh’s enthusiasm evaporated as a horrid realization settled in. This was
no pile of old clothing. A shock of blond hair. A shoe. A hand. The body of a
dead woman lay curled up in the gondola.
“Bloody
hell.”
“What
is it?” Immediately, Jo was at his side. “Good God!”
Hugh
climbed in and crouched beside the body. He took her hand. She was cold to the
touch. His heart sank. The crate had been shipped from Antwerp. To be trapped
for so many days with no water, no food, in the cold and damp of the ship’s
hold. He had no idea who this woman was or how she came to be in here.
The
thought struck him. Perhaps it wasn’t an inadvertent act. Perhaps she was
murdered and her body had been dumped into the crate.
Dismay
and alarm clawed at him as he pushed away the matted ringlets of golden hair.
She was young. He lifted her chin. The body had none of the stiffness of
postmortem. He stared at her lips. He may have imagined it but they seemed to
have moved.
“Bright
. . .” The whisper was a mere rustle of leaves in a breeze.
The
fingers jerked and came to life, clutching at his hand.
“She’s
not dead,” he called to Jo, relieved. “Send for the doctor. I’ll take her to
the house.”
His
sister ran out, calling for help, and he lifted the woman. She emitted a low
groan. Her limbs had been locked in the same cramped position for so many days.
Hugh propped her over the side of the gondola.
“Stay
with me,” he encouraged. “Talk to me.”
Holding
the woman in place, he clambered from the basket and then gently lifted her
out, cradling her in his arms. She weighed next to nothing.
As
they went out into the rain, he feared she was about to die. The exertion of
trying to breathe showed on her face. He’d seen this on the battlefield. The
final effort before death.
Starting
up the path, he stumbled, not realizing the woman’s skirts were dragging on the
ground. He staggered but caught himself before they went down. Her head lolled
against his chest, her face gray and mask-like. She appeared to be slipping
away. It would be a shame that she’d survived the crossing only to perish now.
A
dagger point of anger pierced Hugh’s brain as he recalled another dismal day
when he’d lifted two other bodies, wrapped in burial shrouds, from a wooden
box.
“Talk
to me,” he ordered. “Say something.”
As
he made his way up the hill toward the house, a bolt of lightning streaked
across the sky above Baronsford. Thunder shook the ground and the sky opened,
unleashing fierce torrents of rain on them.
His
wife. His son. Hugh hadn’t been there for them. They’d died as he and the
British army were being chased by the French across Spain. He’d been trying to
save his men’s lives, not knowing that those most precious to him were
suffering.
“You’ve
survived a horrifying ordeal. Give me the chance to save you.”
The
woman struggled weakly in Hugh’s arms, and her head tipped back. He watched as
her lips parted, welcoming the wetness of the falling rain.
“We’re
almost there.”
“Bright
. . .” she murmured.
He
looked into her face and saw she was trying hard to open her eyes.
“Yes,
brighter than that crate,” he said, encouraged by her effort. Any movement,
however small, gave him hope. “And you’ve been in there for Lord knows how
long.”
