Spotlight & Giveaway: The Highlander’s Untamed Tempest by Heather McCollum

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Heather McCollum to HJ!

Hi Heather and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Highlander’s Untamed Tempest!

 
Hi fellow romance lovers! I’m so glad to be here today on HJ.
 

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here:

Eagan is the last unmarried Macquarie brother, but he’d rather adventure than settle down. But then he meets a mysterious woman who sings like an angel and kisses like a siren bent on stealing his soul. Will the curse of Wolf Isle finally be broken, or will Tessa Ainsworth doom the Macquarie Clan forever?
Mistaken Identity*Forbidden Love*Redemption*Brothers
Steam Level 4 out of 5
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

“’Tis Samhain,” Eagan Macquarie’s brother, Drostan said. “Perhaps ye can find the headless Lady Gwyn to marry.” Shrouded in white, the ghost was said to roam the moors on the night of Samhain with her black pig.

Eagan frowned down into his mug of honey mead. Splashes of firelight cast his shadow across the wooden table he and his family shared with the Maclean Clan on the Isle of Mull.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

1. The idea for this series (Brothers of Wolf Isle) originally came from my love of the musical Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, but my series has only 5 brothers and there are no mass abduction scenes or choreographed dance numbers – LOL!
2. The idea of who the heroine really was didn’t come to me until halfway into the book (I’m a total pantser).
3. Of all the covers in the series, I think this one is the hottest! Eagan sizzles!
4. I love learning about midwifery, 16th century and now. I have a high school friend who is an experienced midwife, and she’s given me wonderful information about current practices.
5. I originally thought that Meg would make a great heroine, but she’s a bit annoying. I’m sure the right hero is out there for her though, but he’s not Eagan Macquarie. So I created Tessa for him.
 

What first attracts your main characters to each other?

Eagan is attracted to the mystery of the woman who’s been living on his isle for a year without him knowing about it. She’s clever, beautiful, and sings like a siren, pulling in everyone who hears her voice.
Tessa knows she isn’t supposed to get close to a Macquarie brother, but she can’t help but be drawn to the brawny, kind Highlander whose glances promise a night of unforgettable passion.
 

Using just 5 words, how would you describe your main characters”love affair?

• Steamy
• Forbidden
• Shocking
• Addictive
• Doomed

The First Kiss…

“Tell them we’re courting then,” Tessa said, her heart picking up speed despite her uncaring tone.
Eagan chuckled. “Thank ye, but they won’t believe it. I’ve tried to start a rumor that I was interested in a lass, and it didn’t work.”
“Did she not play the part?” Tessa asked. The flames chased away the chill in the autumn air as they slowly walked between the two bonfires.
“She didn’t exist, so nay, she didn’t play her part. I couldn’t ask a real lass to act like we were courting. ‘Twould lead her to believe we would eventually wed.”
“And you don’t want to wed?”
He exhaled. “I’ve been trying to escape the wedding noose my whole life. I have other plans that will take me exploring. First the rest of Scotland and then farther reaches of the world.”
“And the mamas want you to stay and wed their daughters, tie you here, trap you.”
“Ye can see why ‘tis too risky to pretend with a lass here.”
Perhaps it was the whisky relaxing her, or the loneliness that had plagued her, but Tessa made up her mind quickly. As they walked out from between the fires, she pulled Eagan to stand before her and planted her hands on his chest. The muscles beneath the tunic were hard, and she slid upward to capture the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers. He let her, and before she could worry, Tessa planted her lips on Eagan’s.
The stiffness in his form dissolved, and his arms came up around her. Heat hit Tessa from all sides, but the warmth that drew her was from Eagan. Without releasing his neck, she slanted her mouth against his, deepening the kiss. He tasted of whisky, and his kiss held barely restrained passion. One of his hands came up to thread into her hair, climbing to cup her head, allowing him to bend her into his body.
Tessa had the urge to get closer to Eagan, to feel his skin on her skin. His verge was hard enough that she could feel it through his plaid and her single petticoat. This wasn’t the response her sexual tutor had exhibited when they’d kissed. His touch had been precise, slow, meticulous whereas Eagan was fierce and almost rough. It was as if he wished to shred her clothing right off her. The thought scattered down through her like falling sparks, unleashing her own passion.
“Tessa?”
The woman’s voice was far off. She wouldn’t have noticed it except that Eagan stiffened and cold replaced the warmth of his mouth on her damp lips. He stepped back, and she made to follow.
“Meg is coming,” Eagan said, and it took a moment for Tessa’s thoughts to solidify enough for her to remember who this interfering Meg was. Eagan glanced around. “And everyone is watching.”
Tessa stared up into his frowning face and released a slow breath. “Now they’ll believe we’re courting.”

Without revealing too much, what is your favorite scene in the book?

In this scene, Tessa has invited Eagan into her cottage. I love it because Eagan learns more about Tessa, and they have their first real kiss. And FYI: Joan of Arc wasn’t made a saint until 16 May 1920.

Rain began to pour down, but the earthen roof softened the violent thrashing. The cottage was cozy and warm, and opposite the cold, bare apartment she’d shared with her mother with its few pieces of gilt furniture.

“Where is yer fawn, Orpheline?”

She smiled. “You remember her name.” A man who pays attention to more than a woman’s curves. Unusual.

“Names are important,” he said and reached up to touch some of her dried herbs. “They tell a lot about the giver of the name and the person named.” He was careful when he touched the dried chamomile heads so as not to knock them to the floor. He lowered his strong arm and grinned at her. “Like Tempest. I think there’s a whirlwind perhaps hiding within ye.”

Warmth slid through Tessa, a different kind of warmth from the heat that their kiss had ignited last evening. It was gentle and infused her, warming her to her toes, whereas the passion that had hit her before was like lightning. Both drew her to this large, chiseled man.

She glanced toward the door. “Orpheline has a nice paddock in the barn with my little goat, Griselle’s milk cow, and the chickens. The cats walk out there too, giving the rooster a purpose to protect his lady hens even though Saint Joan, Saint Margaret, and Sia wouldn’t touch them.”

“Such odd names for cats,” Eagan said, running his finger along the snuggly fit panes of glass. She watched the trail of his finger across the chilled surface and wondered what it would feel like across her skin.

“Saint Margaret is the patron saint of childbirth and women with child. Joan of Arc is strong and brave, helping to defend our bit of land. She should be a saint. And Sia has six toes on each paw. The names fit.”

He walked to the hearth and added a square of dry peat before crouching to blow under it. He must think they were remaining there. Was he presumptuous or merely seeking her comfort?
Tessa watched the play of muscles under the white tunic that was stretched across his back from broad shoulder to broad shoulder. Was Eagan Macquarie a good lover? He looked fit, confident, and every inch man.

Her mother had endured sloppy and selfish attentions in the bed chamber, first with the king and then some of his courtiers, but Rebecca had wanted her daughter to understand how pleasurable physical love could be with an expert lover. She’d explained much with words and sketches and then hired a tutor for her daughter once she reached the age of twenty. Tessa knew the difference between an attentive lover and a selfish, hasty-witted coxcomb. And from the kiss and how Eagan touched various things in her cottage, she guessed he was of the attentive variety.

“You should stay,” Tessa said. Eagan looked at her over his shoulder. She indicated the windows where rain beat a rapid pulse. “Unless you wish to return to the castle soaked through.”

He stood slowly, glancing at the door like a maiden realizing she was locked in with a wily fox of a man. “I won’t attack you,” she added. “And you can leave. I’m merely saying that ‘tis—”

“Do ye attack men?” The edge of his mouth rose, and she remembered how those lips felt against hers. Warm, soft but powerful too.

She returned his half grin with her own. “Not frequently enough to answer oui and not never to say non.”

His brow rose, but his mouth dropped to seriousness. “Have ye had to defend yerself then?”

She snorted softly. “In this world, everyone must defend themselves from the smallest kitten to the surliest butcher.”

He walked over, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. “I have no right to pry, Tessa, but my sisters-by-marriage have had to defend themselves from villainous men before they came here and married my brothers. Ye can find comfort talking with them.”

She met his gaze with steely determination. “I’ve met many villainous men, but I thwarted them.” She’d learned to get out of every situation, even crawling out a window to slide along a ledge to safety. Staying physically fit, agile, and silent had saved her emotional stability and even her life several times. One didn’t circulate in the viper’s nest of court without becoming slippery as a serpent too.

Tessa raised her hand to Eagan’s cheek, feeling the soft bristle of his closely trimmed beard. “You, Eagan Macquarie, are not a villainous man. I believe you to be a good man.” He was also tall, so she slipped her hand up to his neck and around the back. Eagan lowered his face without resistance, claiming her lips.

Despite the confidence she displayed in her movements, her heart slammed hard. Eagan’s arms came around her like the granite walls encircling a castle, and she felt protected within them. And that feeling of trust and protection was intoxicating. Perhaps that was why the heat had risen from a whisp of smoke to an inferno in minutes.

She trusted Eagan Macquarie.

To enjoy the passions of the flesh in full, one must have absolute trust in their partner.

She hadn’t been attracted to the sophisticated instructor her mother had hired to teach Tessa about feeling satisfied in passion, but she’d trusted him enough because her mother did.

Tessa slanted her lips against Eagan’s, pressing against the taut muscles of his frame. His erection pressed against her, feeling long and hard and very capable. Mon Dieu. A rush of heat slid down through her abdomen to dampen the crux between her legs, and thoughts of what she should do and what Eagan should do faded from her mind as instincts took over.

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would be absolutely crucial to include?

The scene when Eagan hears Tessa singing while she calms a mother giving birth. It shows the mystery surrounding her and the danger she might be attracting. Eagan, along with everyone else, is mesmerized by Tessa’s voice.

Tessa took her hand, which was balled tightly. She stroked the fingers open one by one. “Then trust me.” She looked into Cecelia’s eyes. The young woman was terrified. Soothe her. Tessa could almost hear her mother’s whisper. “Trust me.” And then Tessa began to sing.

Her voice flowed out from her middle as if she’d opened an aqueduct, the higher pitched notes rising and falling with the words of her mother’s favorite lullaby about a bird learning to fly. Tessa sang in French, but it wasn’t the words that soothed. It was the melody. She closed her eyes, releasing the emotions of worry, hope, and then triumph as the bird joins its mother in a tall oak tree.

“Little bird, little bird, do not fear the ground. Look upon the sky above and soar toward Heaven…”

When Tessa sang, she imagined the sound ribboning out of her to swirl about those nearby. She inhaled, taking the air from her lungs and turning it into beauty like a mosaic or tapestry of colors. Orderly but beautifully woven.

When the song finished, Tessa opened her eyes to find everyone in the room staring at her. The exhausted woman’s face had warmed with color, and she breathed easier.

Meg sat holding Cecelia’s hand but stared at Tessa as if in a trance. Ava spoke first. “That was…” She shook her head. “The most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. A bird struggling to fly.”

Tessa looked at her. “You know French?”

“Oui,” Ava said and took a breath. “You are most talented, Mistress Tessa.”

“’Twas a song my mother taught me.” Tessa nodded to Cecelia. “It calms.”

A breeze blew around them, and Tessa looked at the door, which was open. Eagan Macquarie stood there with a large wooden tub sitting on its end. He cleared his throat. “I brought the tub.” Had he heard her sing or was he just shocked to be this close to a birthing woman?

Grace draped Cecelia with a clean sheet, and Eagan brought the tub in. Several other men followed. “Two steaming buckets,” a brawny man with graying hair said. “And two boiled and cooled earlier.”

“Good, the water is clean,” Tessa said, nodding and pointing to a spot near the hearth to set the tub.

The man poured his bucket in the tub and walked to Grace, tipping her chin to bring her eyes up to his. “Usually ‘tis I who makes ye dumbfounded by my kisses.” He leaned in and kissed her mouth.

When he backed up, Grace’s cheeks were stained red. “Her song,” Grace said. “’Twas mesmerizing.”

As the men filed out, they glanced at Tessa, mild suspicion in their eyes. “I’ll stay outside in case ye need me,” Eagan said, and closed the door behind him.

The men walked off, along with Keir and Tor, toward the bonfires. Eagan knew he could call on them if more help was needed.

“Who is she?”

Eagan turned to the shadows next to the house where young Father Timothy, traveling priest, stood with a short, stout man who’d asked the question. Were they hiding there?

“A midwife,” Eagan said, his instincts making his blood rush. “From Wolf Isle.”

The man wore a cape over a tunic and breeches that ended at the knee where his tall, black boots met. His tall rectangular hat sat over hair that fell to his shoulders. He carried a staff.
“Her singing mesmerized everyone who walked within hearing,” the man said, using his upright staff to indicate a wide circle before the cottage.

Eagan glanced at the silent priest and then back at the man. “Who are ye, and what’s yer business here on Mull?”

A cold smile spread over the man’s clean-shaven face, giving him a devilish look in the flicker of Father Timothy’s lantern. “I am Walter Gleeb, and my business is witches.”

Readers should read this book …

because it concludes a fabulous series full of laughter, steam, family bonds, and Highlander fun.

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

The second book in my new Brotherhood of Solway Moss series, THE HIGHLANDER’S FALLEN ANGLE, will be released in April 2025. This series involves four Highland warriors from the Isle of Skye. They were imprisoned together in England and abandoned by their clans. Even though they were raised to hate each other, they work together to escape. They’ve learned to trust each other more than their clans and pledge to bring peace to their isle.
I’ve just started writing the first draft of Book #3 in the series.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: Signed copy of The Highlander’s Unexpected Proposal: Book #1 of the Brothers of Wolf Isle series for continental US winner. $10 USD gift card for international winner.

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Excerpt from The Highlander’s Untamed Tempest:

Eagan has come to visit Tessa in her cottage, which is part of the orphanage that the crone, Grissell runs. Many think the old woman is a witch. Her ancestor is the one to cast the spell over the Macquarie Clan.

The thatching on the slanted roof had been enhanced with soil where grasses and a few remaining wildflowers grew. Golden leaves from a neighboring oak covered it. A porch had been added to the side so that one could sit next to the door. A colorful garland of triangles, cut from yellow, red, and green broadcloth hung in a swoop over the door that had been painted green. Boxes of purple ling flowers sat on the porch.

“Tessa?” he called. There was no answer.

Crack. Something hit Eagan on the back of his head, and he spun around, one hand on his head and the other reaching for his sword.

Grissell stood with a young boy, two white cats rubbing against her legs.

“Ye hit me with a rock?” Eagan said, rubbing his head.

“An acorn,” Grissell said. She nodded to his sword. “And you pull a blade on an old woman and a child.” The lad held her hand and stared out with wide eyes. A little girl came around to take her other hand, blinking blankly at him.

He re-sheathed his sword. “Bloody feisty for an old woman,” he murmured. Gleeb would certainly think she was a witch, and the cats and children her minions. “Ye could have just said something.”

“Such as she’s not here?” Grissell asked the corner of her lips tipped slightly higher.

“Aye.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

Both children smiled.

“Do ye know where Tessa is?”

Grissell’s smile flattened. “Looking for her father.”

The little boy pointed north along the shoreline.

“She always looks for him,” the girl said.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t come.”

“Why?” Eagan asked.

Grissell tipped her head, examining him. “She will hurt you, youngest Macquarie.” Her words sent a shiver down Eagan that he ignored. “’Twould be better if you left Wolf Isle now.”

He was well over six feet tall and made of thirteen stones of muscle. Lethal with a sword and sgian dubh, Eagan wasn’t afraid of being hurt physically. But Grissell’s warning seemed to be something other than concern over his bloodletting.

“I do not hurt easily.” And how did she know he was planning to leave?

She walked over to him. In years past, she’d seemed to float. But now she walked with care, the two children flanking her. Her weathered finger poked his chest, but he stood his ground. “Inside. Your heart will bleed.” She dropped her hand and her ear dipped toward one shoulder and the other as if she were weighing the odds on some wager. “’Tis a truth about love that it can slice a person through if ‘tis lost. Perhaps it will be enough to break the curse.” She shrugged. “I’ll watch and see.” Her hazy blue eyes pinned him. “But you will hurt.”

She turned, and the two children followed her back across the clearing to her cottage. The white cats, known as Saint Joan and Saint Margaret pranced after them.

A chill slid along Eagan’s bones, and his heart beat faster as if it felt the tip of a dagger against it. Maybe they should let Gleeb meet Grissell. She’d probably stop his heart with a poke of her finger.

Eagan turned west along the shoreline that would gradually curve around to the north. He couldn’t see Tessa, but then a ribbon of song reached him, ebbing and growing louder with the direction of the breeze. Climbing back to walk silently along the tree line, Eagan headed to an outcropping of rocks where waves crashed during storms. Today, the water was choppy.

Tessa stood at the end of the sloping rocks, her dark hair rising and falling with the wind. As he neared, he could hear her clear notes that rose and fell like an instrument. It reminded him of a long-ago, wordless chant produced by nuns in prayer. The notes held him captive, the song wrapping around him like tentacles from the sea. She could be a mermaiden upon the rocks, her tail hidden beneath the green gown that billowed out around her.

When she took a breath, Eagan could move again, and walked toward her on the rocks. She glanced over her shoulder, and he saw a glistening in her eyes as if they were wet with tears. He’d already seen her joyful and mischievous with the children, seductive with him, and resigned with Cecelia and her theatrics. But now she was sad, and his heart, like Grissell had predicted, hurt.

He said nothing as he stepped up beside her, the wind rushing past his ears. They stood looking out at the choppy sea, an occasional wave smashing against the jutting rock, sending up spray. But Tessa didn’t back away.

“He might never come back,” she said. “He promised, but the sea doesn’t honor promises.”

“Yer father?”

She nodded. “He’s the only person I have left in this world. No siblings. No family.”

“The Ainsworths in England?”

She shook her head. “My father said my mother made up the name and didn’t want to take his, that she was too independent. I don’t know who her family was.”

Perhaps Rebecca had been running from them. Lark and Anna, along with their three sisters, had grown up in a house full of mental and physical abuse. Lark escaped by marrying Adam, and, luckily, the others survived until their father died.

Tessa’s eyes looked even greener bathed in unshed tears. “Grissell says she knew my mother.”

The words swelled in Eagan’s head, and his hands rested on Tessa’s shoulders. “What?” Grissell had never left Wolf Isle as far as he knew. “Your mother lived on Wolf Isle?”

Tessa nodded. “Yes.”

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Eagan Macquarie doesn’t believe in love—nor does he want a wife. There is an entire world beyond Wolf Isle, and mo Dhia, he will seek it out. But the Macquarie curse will continue to haunt his family unless Eagan finds a suitable bride to break the hex once and for all. Now he must choose between a marriage he does not want and abandoning his family…until a comely stranger catches his eye.

Claudette Tempest Ainsworth—known as Tessa—is a learned French midwife who’s been waiting for her father to come fetch her from the harsh winds and sea of Scotland, and return her to her beloved France. But with Eagen, she finds something unexpected: a flame of desire, hot and almost terrifying in its intensity. But even the brightest fires cannot sustain the inevitable distance that’s soon to follow…

Tessa seems to have bewitched them all. But when danger threatens Wolf Isle and the Macquaries, Eagen discovers that the love he never believed in might be his clan’s salvation…or its devastating downfall.
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Meet the Author:

Heather McCollum is a USA Today and Publishers’ Weekly Bestselling, internationally published author of over twenty-five 16th & 17th century Scottish romances full of intrigue & sprinkled with humor, history, & spice. She writes about brawny, broody Highlanders with golden hearts & fiery heroines who teach them oh so much!
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