Spotlight & Giveaway: A Runaway Bride for the Highlander by Elisabeth Hobbes

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Elisabeth Hobbes to HJ!

Hi Elisabeth and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, A Runaway Bride for the Highlander!

 
Hi HJ, thanks for having me.
 

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

It’s a forbidden love on a road trip story.
A Runaway Bride for the Highlander is part of a series of four linked novels following the fortunes, lives and loves of rival clans, the Lochmores and McCrieffs. A secret is discovered in the first book and by reading all four, the reader will discover the answer to the mystery. Unusually, the books travel backwards in time, starting with Victorian and ending in the Middle Ages.
A Runaway Bride for the Highlander is the third in the series (don’t worry, it can be read as a standalone if you haven’t read the first two). It tells the story of Ewan, the new Earl of Lochmore who has inherited the title after the death of his father and brother. When he leaves Stirling Castle he discovers a stowaway in his cart as he returns home – Marguerite, the runaway fiancee of Ewan’s enemy, Duncan McCrieff. Miles away from civilisation in the Scottish Highlands, Ewan has no choice but to take Marguerite home with him while trying to resist the attraction between them.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

‘You are not offering to sing, my lord, since you have interrupted my performance?’
The Earl ran a hand over his hair, causing it to flop across one blue eye. He tossed his head to send it back into place and looked at her keenly. ‘I only sing when I want to keep the wildcats away from the hen house. They flee screaming, thinking a monstrous one of their type is upon them.’

What inspired this book?

The gorgeous Scottish landscape was a huge inspiration. I’m lucky enough to live only 4 or 5 hours drive away so my family and I took a camping trip up there while I scouted round for settings for the book. We followed the route Marguerite and Ewan took on their journey from Stirling to Lochmore Castle.
For character inspiration I pictured Marguerite looking like Genevieve Bujold as Anne Boleyn – very innocent and fragile looking but tougher beneath the surface than men expect.
Ewan was based on two actors- Ewan Mcgregor and David Tennant who are both wonderful but play very different types. They both popped into my head depending if I was writing an action scene or a more lighthearted moment.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

I usually get to know my characters as I write them and they introduce themselves as we go along. This book was unusual because I already had some details from Harlequin.
I was surprised at how much Ewan turned out to be a ‘talker’ not a fighter. He takes the responsibility of becoming clan chief seriously but prefers to solve problems with words and quick wit and diffuse conflict if he can. He was the second son and wasn’t supposed to become earl so worries that his clan will reject him as chief because he isn’t battle hardened like his father was. Personally I think we need more people like Ewan who don’t immediately head into conflict. He can hold his own in a fight when it comes to it, though.

My villain, Duncan McCrieff also surprised me by having a more tragic backstory and motivations than I originally planned.

What was your favorite scene to write?

The scene where Ewan explains to Marguerite why he will help her rather than take her back to her fiance in Stirling and unwittingly ends up insulting her.

‘When I was seven my brother John and I found a deerhound bitch who had whelped. We stole a pup and took him home. My father made us return it, but the mother would not touch it. It was our fault and our father said we must keep him and care for him.’
He stopped and smiled to himself. This was the first time since their deaths that he had been able to speak of his brother and father with such ease. That he had found pleasure in recalling the memory, even. That for the first morning since his father had died he had woken with his mind on something other than the heavy load of responsibilities. She was proving a useful distraction.
‘We thought it would be easy until he grew hungry, widdled on the floor and howled half the night until I took him into my bed. I realised I’d been overconfident, but I had said I was going to keep him so I did. He became my responsibility. You became my responsibility when I deliberately lied to your fiancé to protect you.’
She looked at him sharply. ‘Are you comparing me to your dog?’

What was the most difficult scene to write?

It was only a small scene but researching how to dress in the Great Plaid or ‘brat’ (the precursor to the kilt) took a lot of time. I wanted to get it right because I know there will be readers who understand exactly how it should be worn, but I didn’t want to overload the details and turn it into a lecture.

He shrugged a padded jerkin over the top and laced it loosely. He then lay on top of his brat and gathered it around his waist, stood and draped the ends over his body, gathering and belting it, bunching and folding with a deft hand. Marguerite watched, fascinated by how the cumbersome fabric obeyed his hands. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to the elbows. He had good arms, lean but toned and with a light feathering of fine hair on his forearms that made her fingers twitch at the thought of stroking them.

The internet is full of videos if anyone wants to see what this looks like in real life.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

It is a departure in some ways because it is part of a continuity of four books. The editors came up with the overarching mystery and the plots of each book. I had some freedom to change things (the identity of Marguerite’s fiance changed at my suggestion to give him clearer motivation) but I didn’t have as much ability to go off on wild tangents. I had to make sure nothing I wrote contradicted the other books and caused continuity issues.
I hope readers who are familiar with my previous books will agree the voice is very much mine.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I want people to be a little clearer about the central mystery in the series but also want to read on to discover the complete solution.
I hope they’ll be satisfied with the happy ending Ewan and Marguerite have as I really enjoyed writing the epilogue showing them years into the future.
If they have an urge to visit Scotland that would be great too.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

My next book is called A Midsummer Knight’s Kiss and will be out in October. This is a continuation of the Danby Brothers miniseries (The Blacksmith’s Wife and Redeeming the Rogue Knight) and tells the story of Roger’s adopted son Robbie and Hal’s daughter Rowenna.

I’m currently working on a story set in Brittany about a shipwreck survivor washed ashore with no memory who is rescued by a woman with secrets of her own to keep. The Breton coast is one of my favourite places to visit so I’m thrilled to finally set a story there. It gives me another excuse to visit.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: I’m offering a signed copy of A Runaway Bride for the Highlander

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: I love a Scottish accent, it’s sooo sexy! Do you have a favourite one?

 
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Excerpt from A Runaway Bride for the Highlander:

‘You’re coming with me. We’re sleeping in the woods tonight until I can decide what to do with you.’
Mademoiselle Vallon drew her cloak around herself and began backing away. ‘No! I won’t. You won’t…’
Her meaning was clear enough to Ewan. ‘I won’t touch you,’ he growled, casting an obvious eye over her. ‘I like my women tall and buxom and fair, not scrawny and looking like drowned kittens.’
That was a lie. Some women drew eyes when they were dressed in velvet and jewels, others when they were clad in nothing more than a chemise. Bedraggled and wet, Marguerite stole Ewan’s breath away. Her dress clung to her breasts, belly and thighs. She might have been draped in a bolt of finest silk. Ewan wondered how he had ever thought she was a boy.
She still looked uncertain. She had made it clear on the first night they met that she thought the Scottish were wild brutes after all. He wondered what McCrieff had done to provoke her to flee and spoke a little more gently, spreading his palms wide.
‘You’re very pretty, I’ll own that, but I’m not going to touch you because I like my women consenting, not forced. You have my word your virginity is safe with me.’
She nodded. ‘I want my luggage.’ She retrieved a bulky leather bag from the cart. Ewan held out a hand to help her mount the horse and was taken aback when she ignored it and swung herself into the saddle, sitting astride.
After watching Angus and Jamie leave with the cart, he climbed on to his horse behind her. She stiffened as he passed his arms around her but before long he felt her relax as they both rose and fell to the rhythm of the horse’s stride. He followed the track deep into the forest until the undergrowth grew thick before stopping. As he helped her dismount she gazed up at him from beneath her long lashes. She placed her hand on his shoulder with her fingers skimming the place where skin met brat and Ewan’s throat tightened. He noticed the moment it occurred to her that she was touching him because her creamy complexion deepened to a soft pink and she drew a sharp breath. For a woman who was fearful of being alone with a man, she was making herself far too charming.
‘Go sit over there,’ he said, gesturing to a tree that offered some shelter. He began to make a fire, keeping his back to her. He heard her move and was surprised when she knelt beside him to help, dropping good kindling on to the ground. He was more surprised that she knew how to lay the kindling and tree bark well.
When the fire took hold he sat cross-legged beside it and took a long swig from the bottle of wine he’d packed in his pannier. Mademoiselle Vallon knelt at the other side, leaning close to the heat with her hands stretched out. Shadows stroked her cheeks and caught the lights in her black hair. She looked unearthly, pale face surrounded by darkness. The ghost he had thought she was. Faced with a night under the sky when he should have been in a bed, Ewan had no desire to make conversation, so for a while they simply stared at each other through the flames until he noticed she was beginning to shiver more violently.
‘You’re soaking wet,’ he said as he realised. ‘Take your cloak and dress off and spread them over the bracken to dry before the fire dies. It’s a terrible dreich night and it will just get colder.’
She began to fumble with the laces at her side, though seemed to be struggling. Her fingers had been cold when Ewan had touched them.
‘I expect you’re used to a maid. Do you need help?’ he offered.
She glared at him. ‘I am perfectly capable of managing by myself and I most certainly do not want you to undress me. Please turn your back.’
Ewan obeyed. Before long he heard the rustle of foliage and she told him to turn back. She was clothed only in her shift, which a cursory glance told Ewan was mainly dry. A cursory glance was all he was prepared to risk, given the way his senses tingled at the sight of the close-fitting white linen that followed the outline of her full breasts and hips. She’d freeze dressed like that. Already her lips were tinged with white. He beckoned her over.
‘Come here and lie down.’
She grew paler, if that were even possible.
‘I’m not going to hurt you, or violate you,’ Ewan said irritably. ‘I’m only going to help you get warmed through before you shiver yourself to pieces and I’m left with a corpse. I’d have a hard time explaining that to Duncan McCrieff.’
She didn’t move so Ewan unwrapped his brat and held it out to her. ‘You can wrap yourself in my brat to save your modesty.’
She came round the fire in small steps and held the heavy cloth as if she had no idea what to do with it. Ewan took it back and began wrapping it around her from shoulder to feet, swaddling her like a babe. She gazed at him with eyes that were far too trusting, given the thoughts that ran through his head as he wound the cloth tightly around her frame. He helped her to lie down, doing his best to ignore the prickling of lust that raced from his scalp down his spine. He lay beside her and dragged the sheepskin over the pair of them. Before long Mademoiselle Vallon’s shivers reached him, each convulsion causing her to body to brush up against Ewan’s side, softly at first but with increasing strength that caused all manner of thoughts to assault him. He clenched his teeth, forcing his imagination to behave. He had no business becoming aroused by her suffering. He rolled on to his side and wrapped his arm cautiously around her, drawing her close to him.
‘Take your hands off me!’ Her voice was a horrified gasp.
‘Hush, lass,’ Ewan whispered. ‘I’m not going to harm you. I’m trying to stop you freezing to death.’
She turned her face to his. For a moment her breath was teasingly warm on his cheek and the scent of rose oil in her hair sent him dizzy. The curves of her breasts and thighs were so tantalisingly obvious even through the layers of plaid.
Kiss her!
Don’t kiss her!
Sense and lust fought for dominance. Ewan swallowed.
‘You’ll stay warmer this way,’ he muttered. ‘And you’re less likely to keep me awake wriggling. Or you could go sleep on the other side of the fire.’
She did not protest, but her body remained stiff and she twisted her head away from him. She was still lying rigid when Ewan fell asleep, his mind whirling with what on earth he was going to do with the troublesome woman in the morning and what he was resisting the urge to do now she lay so close.
It was just as well he was a man of his word.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Lost in Tudor Scotland
Found by the Highlander!

Part of The Lochmore Legacy: a Scottish castle through the ages! Far from her home in France, Marguerite Vallon escapes her arranged marriage to a man she despises. Stowing away in a stranger’s cart, she finds herself headed deep into the Highlands with Ewan Lochmore, new Earl of Glenarris! Ewan vows to protect her. But maybe the freedom Marguerite has been searching for can be found with this rugged warrior…

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Meet the Author:

Elisabeth’s writing career began when she finished third in Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write contest in 2013 and she hasn’t looked back. She teaches Primary school but would rather write full time because unlike five year olds her characters generally do what she tells them. She spends most of her spare time reading and is a pro at cooking one-handed while holding a book.
She loves visiting historical sites and museums. Her children are resigned to spending their weekends visiting the past while she leans too far over the battlements.
She lives in Cheshire because the car broke down there in 1999 and she never left.
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