Spotlight & Giveaway: Highland Gladiator by Kathryn Le Veque

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Kathryn Le Veque to HJ!

Hi Kathryn and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Highland Gladiator!

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

When Lor Careston’s quiet Highland village was attacked and burned, he felt helpless against the raiders who destroyed his home. Seeking revenge, but lacking the fighting skills he needs to execute his mission, he sets out to find the Ludus Caledonia—a mysterious fight guild that turns men into warriors.
Lor trains hard, proves himself in the ring, and earns a place with the very clan that decimated his home, having decided to set his plan for revenge in motion from inside the clan. But his plan didn’t include Isabail Keith, a fiery lass who prefers broadswords to embroidery and isn’t afraid to stand with the warriors of her clan. Lor thought the Keiths were his enemies, but when Isabail is threatened, he’ll have to decide what he’s willing to risk for the woman who has captured his heart and the clan that has become his home.
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

Please share your favorite quote from the book:
There’s something the hero says to the heroine repeatedly that’s my favorite quote from this book. He even makes her a copper bracelet that has the words etched on them – Thu fhèin. That means “Only you” in Gaelic. It’s the running theme throughout the book.

Please share your favorite quote from the book:

There’s something the hero says to the heroine repeatedly that’s my favorite quote from this book. He even makes her a copper bracelet that has the words etched on them – Thu fhèin. That means “Only you” in Gaelic. It’s the running theme throughout the book.

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would you use for the audition of the main characters and why?

I think it’s important, in an audition, to get a feel for the chemistry between the main characters, so the scene I’d like to see is right at the beginning – the meet cute – because they kind of start off with a bang. They met once as children, but now they’re meeting again as adults – and the sparks fly!
Here’s the scene – enjoy!

 

There were some residences behind the main merchant avenue and several big plots of land where the villagers cultivated their gardens. It smelled of animals and compost back here. Beyond the gardens was a grove of trees, a big one, with paths leading into it because more villagers lived back beyond the trees.
Suspecting that was where she was heading, Lor made his move.
As the woman entered the trees, Lor came up behind her with great stealth and snatched her basket all in one movement.
“Where are ye going, górach?” he said.
The woman gasped in outrage and perhaps even a little fear. As Lor stood there, his eyes glimmering with mirth, the woman turned on him with considerable agility and balled her fists.
“Give me back my pelts,” she snarled.
Lor couldn’t help the smile on his lips now. It was indeed the lass from the Vale of Demons. She’d grown from a skinny, freckled girl into a lush and beautiful woman. She was quite beautiful, actually. He found himself staring at her pale skin and rosebud mouth, but that was the last thing he remembered before a fist came flying at his face.
Down he went.
The woman reached down and yanked the basket of pelts from his hands as Lor shook off the stars. He put his hand to his nose, noting a small bit of blood as she turned and continued her trek.
He lumbered to his feet.
“Wait,” he said. “I wasn’a trying tae rob ye. Don’t ye remember me?”
She came to a halt, turning to him warily. She looked him up and down. “Should I?”
He felt embarrassed that she didn’t recognize him as he’d recognized her. “It has been several years,” he said. “I was just a lad when we first met in the Vale of Morning. Ye called me górach and tried tae steal my birds’ eggs. Ye know… górach? Do ye remember now?”
She stared at him a moment before her eyes widened. “Górach,” she repeated slowly. “Birds’ eggs, ye say?”
“Aye. Ye tried tae take them from me but we made an agreement instead.”
Her mouth popped open as the memory came clear. “Ye promised tae bring me more!”
He nodded, grinning as he realized that she did, indeed, remember him. “I did.”
“Ye never brought them back.”
“But I dinna say when I’d bring ye the eggs. There’s still time.”
He’d caught her on a technicality. She eyed him with an appraising expression, as she retraced her steps in his direction.
“’Tis true,” she said reluctantly. “So just when did ye intend tae?”
His smile broadened. “Soon,” he said. “But I’ve been very busy.”
“Doing what? Accosting women and stealing their baskets?”
He laughed softly, flashing big, white teeth. “Ye accosted me, once,” he said. “I was returning the favor.”
It was clear that she was trying very hard not to smile; he was rather witty and charming. “Górach,” she repeated softly when she came to within a foot of him, studying the man who’d grown from the boy she’d once remembered. “So it is yerself. Ye’ve grown up.”
“So have ye.”
“But not so much that ye dinna recognize me.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Yer hair,” he said. “I recognized yer hair. I saw it once in the vale and when I saw ye again in town, I knew it right away.”
“Red hair is nothing in the highlands.”
“But yours looks like molten metal.”
Her brow furrowed as she pulled up a strand, looking at it. “It does?”
He nodded. “I see such things every day.”
“Ye do?”
“Aye.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a blacksmith. ‘Tis my trade.”
“I thought it was stealing birds’ eggs.”
His grin was back. “Nay,” he said. “’Twas an interest and nothing more.”
“Does yer grandfather still have his bird cage?”
“Aye.”
“I still want mine.”
He lifted his broad shoulders. “Mayhap ye’ll have one, someday,” he said. Then, he gestured to the basket in her arms. “I saw ye come in tae town with the pelts. Yer far from the Vale of Morning today.”
She nodded, looking down at the lovely gray pelts. “I came tae sell them,” she said. “I come as often as I can, as often as the traps will allow.”
He reached into the basket, picking up one of the very nice pelts. “Ye’ve skinned them well,” he said, putting it back. But his interest in the pelts was simply a cover for his interest in her. His gaze returned to her face. “Do ye remember my name?”
“Lor.”
His teeth flashed, flattered she should recall it so quickly. “I dunna know yers.”
“Isabail.”
“Isabail,” he repeated softly, rolling it over his tongue as if it was a fine wine. “A lovely name for a lovely lass. But I know ye’re not from the Vale of Morning.”
“Nay.”
“Where are ye from?”
She hesitated. “Ye told me ye’re from Careston,” she said. “Why are ye here, in Brechin?”
Lor wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she was changing the subject to avoid giving him an answer. Since he’d stopped traveling through the Vale of Morning, he hadn’t thought of the demons that trolled the vale in many a year. He remembered being told that the demons were part of Clan Ruthven, or even Clan Keith.
It occurred to him that in telling Isabail his name and village, she knew where he was from and that meant she knew his loyalties. Clearly, she didn’t want him to know the same of her. He suspected the stories of the origins of the demons were perhaps more truth than rumor.
He couldn’t think of any other reason why she wouldn’t be forthcoming.
But it didn’t matter. He had no sense of hatred towards clans that weren’t allied with the Lindsey; his loyalty was to his family and friends, no matter their clan. That had never been a big factor to him. But he knew that the world at large felt differently.
Perhaps the lass felt differently, too.
“I’m in Brechin because I’m doing business with a friend of my grandfather’s,” he said finally, having the courtesy not to demand an answer to his question. “I also trained with the man for some years. In fact, I lived in Brechin for a numbers of years but I dunna recall ever seeing ye come tae town with yer pelts.”
She looked down at her pelts as if considering her answer. “There are other villages where I can get a fine price.”
“Is that where ye’re going now?”
She nodded. “The merchant here… I dinna want tae agree tae his price. I’ll go elsewhere.”
Lor knew what she meant by not paying the man’s price because he’d seen it. What had happened had been unfair and Lor wasn’t a man who tolerated injustice. He never had been. Reaching out, he took the basket from her as she tried to snatch it back.
“Wait here,” he told her, holding the basket away as she grabbed at it. “I’ll get yer price for ye. What did ye want?”
She was confused, and a little miffed that he’d taken her pelts again, but she at least considered his question.
“A shilling a pelt,” she said. “I’ll take nothing less. Where are ye going?”
With a sly smile, he reached out and took one of her grabbing hands.
“Come with me.”
Isabail did. She let him hold her hand as he took her back towards the village before leaving her in the small alley next to the merchant who had pinched her on the cheek. As she peered around the corner of the stall, she watched as Lor presented the basket of pelts to the merchant, who was busy eating something and getting bread and sauce all over his tunic.
When he looked at the pelts with some interest, Lor pushed the man’s hands back so they wouldn’t dirty the skins. He held them up for the man to show them the fine quality. But the merchant wasn’t stupid; he’d seen the pelts, and the basket, before. He knew they belonged to the pushy lass from the hills. When he finally shook his head at Lor, denying him the sale, Lor reached out and grabbed the man by the collar of his expensive robes. As Isabail watched with increasing astonishment, Lor muttered a few select words to the merchant and the man’s expression went from defiant to fearful all in one motion.
His head nodded.
Lor gave him the pelts and the man counted out the shillings.
Astonished, Isabail ducked back into the alleyway as Lor returned to her, holding out a big hand that contained several silver coins.
“Here ye are,” he said, putting the coins into her open palm and handing her the empty basket. “He was happy tae buy them.”
Isabail’s mouth was hanging open in surprise. She counted the coins; there were twelve. Twelve shillings, twelve pelts. Her gaze returned to Lor.
“I dunna know what tae say,” she finally said. “When I saw the man, he refused tae buy them.”
The ever-present smile was back on Lor’s lips. “Sometimes men just need a bit of prodding, ‘tis all. And a strong suggestion of what will happen if he doesna agree with ye.”
Isabail looked back to the money in her hand before finally closing a fist around it. Her gaze returned to Lor.
“Ye told me once that ye weren’t a warrior,” she said.
She was referring back to the first time they met. Lor remembered that conversation, too, mostly because it was something that had confused him over the years. She’d told him that, being a Highlander, he needed to learn to fight as if it was part of his identity. Truth be told, that was something he’d always wrestled with, thanks to her.
“I’m not,” he said, with perhaps a little less humor given the subject. “I dinna fight the man tae sell yer pelts.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I suppose… I suppose I meant that ye have a presence about ye, Lor Careston. I saw it those years ago when we met and I saw it again just now. Ye have a way about ye that is… strong. If ye were a warrior, ye’d be a fine one.”
He laughed softly as he shook his head. “I’ve no need tae be a warrior,” he said. “I can get along fine as I am. I sold yer pelts, did I not?”
She nodded. “Ye did,” she said. “And I thank ye for it.”
The smile faded from his face as he looked at her, his eyes glimmering with something suggesting warmth. That pretty lass from the vale had his interest now as she did back then. It was an attraction that, although unnutured in years, was surprisingly strong. The childhood spark he’d felt those years ago had never died.
The spark was beginning to blaze.

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

I’d really like readers to takeaway the sense that love really does conquer all – not just romantic love, but the love of family and friends. That’s some of the strongest love there is, because this isn’t just about the hero’s love for the heroine. It’s about his love for his family – his grandfather, specifically – and his clan. But at the Ludus Caledonia, the mysterious fight guild, there is also a special love – brother for brother. Nothing is as strong as the love warriors have for one another, men who have faced battle together.

If you could have given your characters one piece of advice before the opening pages of the book, what would it be and why?

For both Lor and Isabail, my once piece of advice would be to be patient. They’re both a little impatient and impulsive, so patience would have been a good thing for them to have – but the book wouldn’t have been nearly so fun had they taken my advice!
 

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Giveaway: A paperback copy of Highland Gladiator by Kathryn Le Veque

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Book Info:

When Lor Careston’s quiet Highland village was attacked and burned, he felt helpless against the raiders who destroyed his home. Seeking revenge, but lacking the fighting skills needed to execute his mission, he sets out to find the Ludus Caledonia—a mysterious fight guild that turns men into warriors.

Lor trains hard, proves himself in the ring, and earns a place within the very clan that decimated his home. He knows he can set his plan for revenge in motion from the inside. But his plan didn’t include Isabail Keith, a beautiful warrior lass who prefers broadswords to embroidery. Lor thought the Keiths were his enemies, but when Isabail is threatened, he’ll have to decide what he’s willing to risk for the woman who has captured his heart and the clan that has become his home.

Truth. Justice. Revenge. Behind these stands the Scotsman’s sword.

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Meet the Author:

With over one hundred published novels, Kathryn Le Veque is a critically acclaimed USA Today bestselling author, a charter Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Contemporary Romance. She lives in California. Author Website: https://kathrynleveque.com/