Spotlight & Giveaway: To Win a Highlander’s Heart by Gerri Russell

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Gerri Russell to HJ!

Hi Gerri and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, To Win a Highlander’s Heart!

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

To Win a Highlander’s Heart continues the Guardians of the Isles series with Orrick MacLeod, a warrior who can no longer fight. Memories from battle plague him every time he raises his sword, and he fears one day he’ll hesitate at the wrong moment. He’s desperate enough to run from his destiny when he stumbles upon Isolde, an eccentric young woman who’s been banished by her clan.

Isolde Nicolson is a devoted daughter of her clan and a fierce warrior, but when she rejects her brother, the chieftain’s, choice of a husband and accidentally strikes her brother and sister-in-law with an arrow, he banishes her. It’s a lonely existence, with many dangers, but preferable to joining her life to a man she knows to be heartless and cruel.

Orrick and Isolde meet while Orrick searches for a lost child from a nearby village that was raided by one of the MacLeod’s enemies. After he and Isolde find the child, Orrick brings Isolde back to Dunvegan Castle because she is injured while saving the child. With Orrick’s help, Isolde heals and regains her warrior abilities. And in Isolde’s company, Orrick reconciles his past demons. As they work closely together to become the warriors they once were, hidden desires are unlocked that will not be denied.

Orrick wants to do what is right and takes Isolde back to her brother to ask for her hand in marriage. But neither of them expects where it will lead: to the couple’s direct involvement in a pivotal battle between the English and Scottish forces. Soon the warrior who cannot fight will need to stand up for everything he holds dear, including the woman who’s stolen his heart.
 

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

The idea for the Guardians of the Isles series came from an article I read about the famous Fairy Flag of Dunvegan Castle. There are numerous traditions and stories associated with the flag, most of which deal with its magical properties and mysterious origins. The flag legend I used in the Guardians series was that the flag was given to the MacLeods when the then chief’s fairy wife had to return to Fairyland and left the child she’d had with the laird behind. She made the laird promise the child would never cry, but when the laird broke that promise, his fairy mother reappeared and swaddled him in the unusual cloth. Later when the child grew older, he was able to communicate that the cloth was infused with fairy magic and when waved three times, it would save the clan from disaster. The flag has been used twice throughout history with success. It has but one miracle left to give before it vanishes.

The Guardians of the Isles series takes place in the years leading up to Culloden. The tensions between England and Scotland are building. I wanted the MacLeod clan to wrestle with that mounting pressure, to evaluate the future of the Scottish lairds, to consider the safety of their countrymen, and to realize they might need to sacrifice the flag to prevent a disaster all while dealing with their own family drama.

What inspired this book?

Isolde represents the kind of heroine I love to write. Strong and independent at a time in history when women were often overlooked. I love the first line of the book. It sets the stage perfectly for the story that follows.

Isolde Nicolson was the best warrior at Scorrybreac Castle, whether anyone wanted to acknowledge that fact or not, despite her size, despite her sex.

In To Win a Highlander’s Heart, a new character enters the series, Aria MacLeod. Aria is a link between the fairy world and the human world. She is the child of the MacLeod laird who married the fairy princess and bore the son who was later gifted with the Fairy Flag. Aria’s mother did not know she was pregnant with a daughter when she was forced to return to Fairyland and leave her human family behind. For years Aria as a half human, half-fairy has tried to break free of Fairyland to return to her kin, the MacLeods.

There is a scene in the book where Aria joins the MacLeods as they go into battle against the English. She asks Alastair and Tormod (Orrick’s brothers) if they will ride into battle carrying the Fairy Flag. When they say no, they will only use the flag when it appears all hope is lost for Scotland, she says:

“Then it’s a fair thing you are riding into a possible battle alongside a fairy,” she said with a smile.

“Half a fairy,” Tormod corrected.

Aria rolled her eyes. “Half a fairy is better than no fairy at all.”

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

Writing for me is all about the story and character. Once I have the bones of the story and of the characters, the characters are the ones who take the storyline in the direction they want it to unfold. The greatest part of writing a linked series is that you get to know the characters more deeply as each book unfolds. In To Win a Highlander’s Heart, Orrick, the hero, has PTSD. I had to do research on that condition and then figure out how they might have dealt with that in the eighteenth century. Orrick eventually finds support in his family, and has a help mate who is a strong warrior so that if he relapses, she will be right there by his side. In the story, I put Orrick in situations and he let me know what he was ready for.

My heroine, Isolde, is a warrior at a time when such a thing goes against gender norms. After her supportive parents die, her brother isn’t so willing to let her be something her gender should not. And, when she is injured, she is forced to look at who she is and who she might have to become. We all know what a bad injury can do to a professional athlete. For warriors, it is much the same. Fortunately, with Orrick and a healer’s help, Isolde regains the use of her arm. I loved putting Isolde in situations where she was forced to be not a warrior, but a woman with feelings for a man. Both Orrick and Isolde worked hard for their happily ever after.

What was your favorite scene to write?

I always love writing first meet scenes. Here’s Isolde and Orrick’s.

Isolde inhaled the icy scent of the earth as it mixed with early morning sky. Overhead dark clouds gathered, threatening snowfall later in the day. She had to hurry and accomplish her task before the snow fell and the animals sought shelter from the cold. Bringing her gaze back to the landscape before her, Isolde caught movement to the west. A large herd, with several males bearing five- to six-pointed antlers, grazed amongst numerous females on the grass, willowherb, and brambles that still remained after last night’s frost. Having achieved her goal, Isolde started her descent, hoping the animals would remain while she hiked down from the summit over the next couple of hours.
She was nearly to the base of the mountain when she stopped. An odd feeling came over her, something she hadn’t felt in months. She swallowed. It almost felt like someone or something was watching her.

She looked about her. Nothing moved and only the usual sounds of the wind and the sea in the distance came to her. She shrugged off the sensation and continued her climb down when another ripple of movement caught her attention. Something much smaller than the red deer surged through the tall grass. She stopped and concentrated on the sight until she could make out the unmistakable stripes of a family of badgers. She groaned as she hurried down the remaining slope. Badgers could complicate her hunt if she didn’t hurry.

Silently stalking through the grass with her bow at her side, Isolde heard a noise off to her right. She froze, concentrating on the sound. Careful to make no noise, she reached for a bow from her quiver and strung it. Blood pounded in her ears. Had she missed something while surveying the territory from above? She was prepared to fight the English single-handed if she must. For she was done being their spy.

She’d practised her skill with a bow and arrow every day, despite the memories of her last day at Scorrybreac. She knew her brother lived, but what about her sister-in-law and the babe? She’d not been able to find any information on either of them since she left.
Forcing the memories aside, Isolde crouched down, pulling her handmade hooded fur cloak tight around her, not wanting to alert anyone that she was closing in as she moved carefully towards the sound. The noise came again, louder this time. She was close. Preparing to strike, Isolde pulled the string of her bow back and stood, ready to fire. And came face to face with a man. He was not English, but Scottish.

Orrick MacLeod.

Her breath caught at the sight of him. He was taller than she remembered, and thick with muscle. He wore leather armour across his chest and upper arms. And in his hands, he held a bow with an arrow pointed directly at her head.

He stared at her, breathing hard. Orrick’s brow rose from what she imagined was a persistent furrow, giving him a look of surprise. “You are not a wee little lass.” His eyes sharpened on her face. “What are you? A witch?”

A wee lass? A witch? What was he talking about? Had the youngest of the MacLeod triplets gone mad since she’d last seen him six years ago? She’d been a lass and he a lean-muscled, tall lad when they’d met at the Highland games. He’d smiled at her for a heartbeat until the other lads nearby had teased her about her quiver and bow.

“Girls can’t compete.”

“Girls can’t shoot an arrow.”

“Go home to your mama.” The boys had taunted her. Orrick had joined in their laughter and turned away.

“What are you doing on MacLeod land?” he asked, his voice hard. His dark brown hair caught the wind, lending a certain fierceness to his stony jaw. “Are you human or beast?”
Over the last fourteen months, her clothing had deteriorated and she’d been forced to create a full-length cloak from rabbit pelts sewn together with sinew. And granted, her hair had become a wild tangle despite her attempts to tame the thickness with a comb she’d fashioned from animal bone. But she was clean. She bathed almost daily in the nearby creek during the warmer days. Now, as the days grew cold, she limited her bathing to sunny days despite the frigid chill that often hung in the air.

He stared into her face as though trying to see past her outward appearance. “Who are you? What are you doing out here alone?”

“I’m . . .” The word caught in her throat. It had been a year since she had spoken a word to anyone. She tried again. “I’m hunting.” The words crackled from a throat that felt raw. How had speaking become such an effort?

His eyes narrowed. “Hunting on another man’s property is punishable by hanging.”
She frowned. “You’d have to . . . catch me . . . first.”

Orrick’s lips thinned and then eased as if no longer seeing her as a major threat. “There is something familiar about you.”

“What did you mean . . . about a wee lass?” Her throat was still raw, but she forced the words past the ache. “Why would she . . . be out here?” Isolde asked, straining to hold her bowstring taut for such a long period of time.

“We could spend the morning shooting at each other until one of us is dead or out of arrows, or you could help me find the little girl who disappeared from Orbost after the MacQueens raided the village yesterday.”

She stared down the length of her arrow into the rich brown of Orrick’s eyes. As they stared at each other, she allowed her gaze to slide along the solid jaw that was covered by a day’s growth of beard, across his straight nose, to his cheekbones where a thin white line showed a scar.

His brows were bent and his full lips were parted. After a long moment, he exhaled and lowered his bow. He returned his arrow to his quiver. “What say you to a truce?”
He offered her a smile. She forced herself to breathe evenly and to battle against the odd sensation that tingled through her body. It had been a while since she’d been this close to another human being, let alone a handsome male. She lowered her bow and stepped back. “Let’s find the girl.”

What was the most difficult scene to write?

In To Win a Highlander’s Heart I had to give Isolde’s brother a reason to banish her. She had to do something so horrible he would see it as unforgivable. So Isolde, the warrior who never misses a target, makes a mistake and shoots an arrow into her sister-in-law’s very pregnant abdomen. The baby survives, but Isolde doesn’t know that for a large portion of the story and the very thought that she brought harm to an innocent haunts her through the book.

A heaviness weighed Isolde down as she took her place a great distance from the target and raised her bow. She’d proved herself time and again. To Father. To his master-at-arms. To at least half the men in the castle. And now she would have to prove herself yet again. She had to hit near dead centre twice, or her hopes of gaining her freedom from marriage might be at an end. Swallowing tightly, she drew the string of her bow back until it touched her lips and the middle of her chin. As she had a hundred times before, she let her arrow ease off the string. It arched at what seemed an impossibly slow pace, but as the arrow reached its arc it sped towards the target. Isolde held her breath even as she reached for a second arrow, sending it after the other. The first arrow hit right next to Ewen’s arrow at the centre of the target. The second arrow hit right beside the first, setting all the arrows quivering at the impact.

Isolde lowered her bow as John moved to the target. Ewen frowned. Once John had finished his inspection, he turned to those gathered and announced, “Round two goes to Isolde.”

“Well done,” Ewen said, but the words hardly sounded like praise.

Even so, a swell of pride warmed Isolde’s chest for a heartbeat before she tamped it down. She had to win this final round for her dreams to become reality—to prove once and for all she was worthy of fighting alongside any of them.

With a stern look on his face, Ewen moved to the third target. The crowd murmured in anticipation as he prepared for the final round. Once he brought his arrow up, silence descended over the courtyard. His arrow flew straight and true, burrowing into the target at the centre. His second arrow followed quickly, and hit the target right beside the other arrow. His smug grin reappeared. “Try to beat me now, if you can.”

Ewen wasn’t giving up without a fight. She had to best him once more with two perfectly aimed arrows. Again, those gathered conversed amongst themselves as Isolde lined up with the target. Ewen came to stand beside her.

“You’re not worried about hitting the target, are you?” he asked in a snide tone.

He was trying to intimidate her with his presence. Well, it didn’t matter. She would hit her target regardless.

The noise about them silenced, until Isolde could hear only the sound of her own breathing. She sighted the end of Ewen’s arrow in the target and with a burst of confidence slowly released her grip. In the same instant, Ewen’s foot came out and tapped hers, sending her arrow off target. Instant outrage filled her. In the span of a heartbeat, she plucked another arrow from her quiver and stepped farther away, letting the arrow fly, then another after that. But this time, Ewen lunged straight at her, knocking the third arrow in a wild arc, well away from the target. Isolde fell to the ground with a thump. Ewen fell on top of her.

“Get off me!” She pushed Ewen’s big body away and wiggled out from under him before gaining her feet.

A cacophony of noise filled the courtyard—from jests that she had been beaten, to those protesting that Ewen had cheated. But two sounds rose above the others. A cry of distress sounded, then a second bellow of rage.

Isolde looked to where her brother and sister-in-law had stood next to the targets. Sarah lay upon the ground, clutching an arrow in her lower abdomen. John knelt beside her with an arrow protruding from his shoulder.

A cold chill came over Isolde. She twisted towards Ewen. “Look what your cheating has caused.”

He features hardened. “I wasn’t the one firing the arrows.”

With disgust, she raced to John and Sarah, tossing the bow and quiver to the ground before dropping to her knees beside them. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“My baby. Please, someone help my baby.”

Isolde reached for Sarah’s hand as the pregnant woman groaned in pain.

Her brother’s face contorted with rage and pain as he looked to Isolde. “You’ve done enough.” He slapped her hand away. “Get away from Sarah. Get away from me. In fact, get out of this castle. You wanted your freedom. Take it. Leave with the clothes on your back. Nothing more. I never wish to see you again.”

John tried to scoop Sarah up in his arms but when that failed because of his own injury, he motioned for one of his men to lift her instead. John followed behind as Sarah was carried to the castle. When Isolde accompanied them, John paused to rake her with another icy glare of hatred. “Get her out of here. And someone fetch the midwife.”

“Nay!” One voice cut through the noise. “She has been wronged by a cheater. Do not force her to leave.” Maribeth, Isolde’s maid protested, coming to Isolde’s side.
But her plea fell on deaf ears as her brother once again shouted, “You shot the arrows, Isolde. You threaten the life of my child. In turn, I will threaten your life by disowning you.”

Isolde knew her brother was serious. She’d seen that look on his face when they were children and she’d bested him in competition. The thought gripped her around the throat as she fought to swallow. Quickly, she snapped up her quiver, slinging it over her shoulder, then her bow, and headed for the still-open gates. Without looking back, she raced across the drawbridge and into the wilderness beyond Scorrybreac Castle.

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

The entire Guardians of the Isles series showcases what I love to write: emotionally-intense, action-adventure historical romance set within a big Scottish clan. Even though each book features a different hero and heroine, we never have to say goodbye to the characters from previous books. As the story arc builds, we find out more about each character.

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

As is the case with all my books, I want readers to be reminded of the healing power of love. None of my characters are so broken or flawed that the love of another person cannot heal their perception of themselves.

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

I am currently writing the fourth book in the Guardians series, To Claim His Highland Bride, which will be a February 14th, 2023 release.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of To Win a Highlander’s Heart & 3 Tule ebooks

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Excerpt from To Win a Highlander’s Heart:

Isle of Skye, Scotland
Tuesday, September 12th, 1741
Isolde Nicolson was the best warrior at Scorrybreac Castle, whether anyone wanted to acknowledge that fact or not, despite her size, despite her sex. She looked across the mist-shrouded lists at the men who would challenge her this morning. As they did every morning, the castle’s men—both young and old—stared at her with disgust while they waited for the master-at-arms to arrive.
“You’re an abomination,” her cousin, Watt, said as he walked past her and bumped her with his massive shoulder. “Why can’t you be a normal female?”
Isolde straightened, not letting the man’s words cut her as his sword never would. For the hundredth time she forgave him and all the others who called her names. They were lashing out because in a few moments she would once again prove what they all feared: that she was the better swordsman.
Most of the men simply ignored her, except Watt, Richard, and Murdo. They spent every morning trying to intimidate her. They’d been doing it for years. When she was younger, she had buckled under their verbal and physical abuse. But she knew something they did not. Their actions had helped to hone her skills to what they were today. She could best any one of them with a sword and with her bow.
Ever since she could first pick up a sword, and then a bow, it had been her dream to defend her home and her country as a warrior alongside the other warriors. Her father had indulged her, giving her a sword and allowing her to participate in mock battles with her older brother.
Isolde had been fortunate enough to be educated alongside her brother, John, by her non-traditional father and mother. When she showed not only skill, but also aptitude, her father had allowed her to train alongside the castle’s men and encouraged her to use a sword and also a bow. “To defend yourself from attackers both far and near,” he’d said with an affectionate smile.
Her ambitions had never wavered, but fate dealt them all a blow when her parents had died, their ship going down in a storm during a routine trading expedition to Flanders. After their deaths, her brother had become the leader of the Nicolson clan. His acceptance of her skills and her presence at Scorrybreac had worn thin over the past few years. If she didn’t prove to her brother what a valuable asset she was in the next few months, she was certain he would find a way to be rid of her in the way many men solved problems with unwanted females: through marriage.
Alaric, the master-at-arms, entered the list just then, saving her from her grim thoughts. When she was battling, she felt in control of her life and her body. Though she was not as brawny as her cousin, Watt, she had honed her muscles and her movements with discipline, training, and hard work. Her lithe form gave her an advantage over the hulking warriors who now gathered around. She could move quickly to not only avoid their powerful blows, but also to position herself for better striking advantage.
“Pair off,” Alaric called out. All around her the men paired up, avoiding eye contact with her until only she and Watt were left. He groaned his displeasure as he drew his sword. “Are you ready?” Impatience flashed in his eyes.
Isolde drew her sword. She offered her opponent a brief salute with her weapon as she tucked the length of her dress behind her. She’d barely finished the movement when Watt’s lip curled up in an arrogant smile as he lifted his weapon high over his head and swung with the full force of his strength at her.
Isolde did nothing to counter the move except to step back, allowing her partner to swing at the air. He stumbled forward, then sideways with the force of his movements. He growled in outrage.
These men were always so impatient to begin. Watt would be better served to hesitate, to think about and anticipate his foe, but he never did. Instead, he rushed forward, cutting and slashing this time as he advanced.
Isolde parried his blade, then with a jab of her weapon, sent him to the ground.
He hit the dirt with a soft thud, quickly rolled to his feet, and lashed out again.
Watt fought well, but not well enough to best her. Isolde leapt sideways then sent her blade whistling between his neck and his shoulders, avoiding harming him, but taking several inches off his beard as her weapon sailed by.
Watt’s eyes went wide. “Are you trying to kill me?” His tone was filled with both surprise and irritation. Then his hand moved to his beard and a dark frown came to his face.
Their blades clashed again and again, and as they did, a pulse entered Isolde’s blood, filling her with a sense of rightness. This was what she was meant to do. This was who she was. A warrior for Scorrybreac.
Isolde allowed Watt one last pass then, permitting her new-found invigoration to fill her, she pursued him with an intensity that caused his face to pale. With a swipe of her sword and a twist, she knocked his sword from his hand. Then with a sweep of her foot, she knocked his legs out from under him until he lay at her feet, conquered.
Watt stared up at the blade against his chest with awe, which slipped to anger a heartbeat later. “I didn’t sleep well last night,” he grumbled as he got to his feet. He always had an excuse. She never argued with him. It would only make matters worse if she pointed out that warriors often had to go into battle with little or no sleep.
He glared at Isolde as he prepared to battle once more, but a sound in the distance stalled not only him but all the others as well. “The gates are opening,” Watt said, lowering his weapon.
“We have visitors,” Alaric called out. “You may go to greet them, then I want you back here for more training. Agreed?”
A chorus of ayes sounded as the men streamed towards the front courtyard. Instead of joining them, Isolde sheathed her sword and picked up her bow and quiver before entering the castle and climbing to the north tower. It was her favourite place to watch the comings to and goings from her home.
High above the commotion, Isolde drew in a breath of fresh air. From this vantage point, she could easily view Portree Harbour and the surrounding countryside. Her gaze swept along the approach to the castle, watching a small company of men as they crossed the drawbridge then headed for the keep. Her brother had obviously invited these men here. Who were they?
She studied each man as he came forward, until she recognised one man amongst them all. Ewen MacPhee was thick and squat, and his constant furrowed brow and piercing eyes made him look like the scoundrel she knew him to be. This was the third time he and his men had visited the castle this week. And with a sinking feeling at her core, Isolde suspected she knew why. Her brother was planning to marry her off to the one man she detested above all others.
Ewen had attended a dinner with the Nicolson clan two days ago where her brother had hinted at a match between the two of them. All through the meal she’d thwarted most of Ewen’s clumsy advances. And when he’d caught her alone, he’d groped her with his meaty paws and had tried to kiss her until she’d kneed him in the bollocks.
Still angered by those events, Isolde reached for an arrow from her quiver and set it against the string of her bow, with one finger above the arrow and two below. She located Ewen after he’d dismounted and, pulling the string until it touched her lips and chin, she aimed not at the man’s heart but at the narrow-brimmed cap on his head.
She kept her arm straight but not stiff as she weighed her options. If she relaxed her string hand, the arrow would fly directly towards Ewen. If her brother thought she would willingly accept that weasel as her bridegroom, then he was mistaken. The squatty oaf might want to marry her, but perhaps he would feel differently if she embarrassed him to the point where he refused to take her.
Marriage was what was expected of any female by the age of twenty. But Isolde had always had other plans and her brother knew that as he pursued a marriage partner for her. Most likely it was because John had always been jealous of her abilities as a warrior, which far exceeded his own. Or, a more frightening thought was that John had no intention of allowing her to fight alongside his men, or in any Scottish army, no matter what their father had wanted.
Isolde frowned as she lessened the tension on her bowstring. Perhaps it was time for her to stop fighting the inevitable. She would never change her brother’s mind. She’d been trying since her parents had died last year. If she wanted a different future than the one he had planned for her, it was time for her to strike out on her own and find another clan who would value her skills. With tension between the Scots and the English intensifying, perhaps even another branch of the Nicolson clan on the mainland might overlook her gender.
She’d considered pretending to be a man instead of a woman, but that could become problematic quickly if she were discovered. Nay, it was better to find a clan who would accept her for who she was. She was proud of her skills and abilities; there had to be someone else in Scotland who would be as well.
“John thought you might be hiding up here.”
Isolde did not turn to look at her pregnant sister-in-law. “What do you want, Sarah?”
“I come bearing good news,” Sarah said in a cheerful voice as she cupped her very round abdomen with her hands. “Your bridegroom has arrived.”
Why had her brother allowed his wife to climb the tower steps when she was so heavy with child? The woman had only a few more days of her confinement until their first child would arrive. “He is not my bridegroom,” Isolde said.
“If you loose that arrow, he will not be. But then again you won’t be a bride either,” Sarah said in an annoyingly sweet tone. “Your wedding will become a hanging instead.”
Isolde lowered her bow and swivelled towards Sarah. “I was not going to kill him.”
“It looked like you were going to do just that.”
Isolde frowned. “I was only going to give Ewen MacPhee a reason to regret appearing here this day as I divested him of his hat.”
Sarah’s good humour faded. “You could have missed.”
“I never miss,” Isolde said with a lift of her chin.
“Your stubborn pride will be the end of you one day, Isolde.” Sarah’s lips pressed into a thin line. “John is trying to help see you settled. It is his responsibility to do so. He truly wants to see you promised before our child arrives.”
“I want different things,” Isolde said tartly.
Sarah shook her head. “Women do not have the luxury of wanting anything other than marriage and children, no matter how talented they are with a bow. It is your duty as the laird’s sister to obey him. John has been more than fair with you. In fact, if you would come below with me, you would see that your brother is prepared to offer you a compromise.”
Isolde frowned. “What kind of compromise?”
Sarah’s features eased into a more sincere smile as she motioned towards the open doorway leading from the tower to the rooms below. “Come and see for yourself.”
In silence, she and Sarah slowly walked down the stairs that curved inside the tower. Isolde kept hold of Sarah’s arm as they descended to make certain she did not fall. The pace gave her plenty of time to observe the windows that were too narrow to slip through along the stairwell. Through the castle’s open doorway, Isolde heard male voices. They were still too far away to make out the words. What kind of compromise awaited her in the courtyard? Her brother was not often charitable when it came to her. So she would be wise to temper her expectations. But she had to admit she was curious.
When they reached the bottom of the tower, Isolde opened the door for Sarah to pass through then stepped out onto the grassy area adjacent to the courtyard. The late-summer sunshine was only now burning through the mist that still lingered on the ground, making the scene before her seem a little unreal.
Seven of the men who had arrived earlier now remained near her brother. As she approached, they all turned to stare. Ewen smiled and punched the man beside him in the arm. “There she is, my soon-to-be bride.” His deep voice resonated through the courtyard, setting Isolde’s nerves on end. Instead of arguing, she glanced at her brother.
Sarah moved to her husband’s side and whispered in his ear. Most likely telling him how she’d found Isolde on the tower. A frown of displeasure cut across John’s face. “Were you about to slay one of these men?”
“I do not condone murder, Brother. But I will defend myself, if necessary, from you forcing me into wedlock.”
“I have learned long ago that I cannot force you to do anything you do not wish to do. So, instead I have devised a test of your abilities that will determine your future for you.” He turned towards the open area of the courtyard, which had been set with three stacks of hay and three targets made of coiled straw that were a great distance away. “Since you take great pride in your skill as an archer, I challenge you to best Ewen in hitting these targets. If you win, I will allow you to fight with my guards. If he wins, you will surrender your bow and arrow and marry him this very day.”
Isolde stared at her brother in disbelief. Was he truly giving her a choice? Or at least a chance to decide her own fate? Or was this a trick of some sort? If she agreed, and didn’t live up to her end of the competition, she would be married by the end of the day. Or was that what John hoped? That by agreeing, she would start to question her own abilities and fail?
Whatever may be, she didn’t really have any other option. She had to compete, and she trusted her own skills to see her through. “I agree to your terms,” she said without looking at Ewen.
“Then come.” Her brother motioned for her to follow as he headed towards the castle. With the stone wall behind them, the entire courtyard lay before them. She would have to strike the targets from at least seven and seventy yards away. She’d done that before, but this time she would have to do it better than the man who now stood beside her.
In his hands, Ewen held a long bow, and his quiver held a number of arrows that were several inches longer than her arrows. While he strung his bow, the sound of footfalls coming from the castle doorway filled the air. Others from the castle had come to watch, alerted by their voices that something significant was happening outside.
Silence suddenly filled the courtyard as Ewen raised his bow and nocked an arrow. He gave Isolde a smug smile before he let the arrow fly, easily driving one arrow then another into the coiled straw, marking the target. “There. Best that,” he said stepping aside.
All eyes were upon her as she lifted her bow, drew an arrow from her quiver, then concentrated on the target. His arrows had struck the target in the centre. She would have to hit the space between his arrow to best him.
She forced her arm to remain relaxed as she sighted the target and let first one arrow, then a second.
Her arrows hit the target. She didn’t have to race down to the target to see that her strikes were directly above his arrows.
John and Sarah rushed to the target to inspect the shots. “It’s a tie,” John announced before moving back out of the way.
Ewen nodded, seeming pleased with that outcome. He moved to the left, in alignment with the second target. He took his time lining up his shot, then let his arrows fly in rapid succession once more. One arrow hit the target dead centre and the other arrow knocked the first from its placement. He’d shot both with exact precision.
A heaviness weighed Isolde down as she took her place and raised her bow. She’d proved herself time and again. To Father. To his master-at-arms. To at least half the men in the castle. And now she would have to prove herself yet again. She had to hit near dead centre twice, or her hopes of gaining her freedom from marriage might be at an end. Swallowing tightly, she drew the string of her bow back until it touched her lips and the middle of her chin. As she had a hundred times before, she let her arrow ease off the string. It arched at what seemed an impossibly slow pace, but as the arrow reached its arc it sped towards the target. Isolde held her breath even as she reached for a second arrow, sending it after the other. The first arrow hit right next to Ewen’s arrow at the centre of the target. The second arrow hit right beside the first, setting all the arrows quivering at the impact.
Isolde lowered her bow as John moved to the target. Ewen frowned. Once John had finished his inspection, he turned to those gathered and announced, “Round two goes to Isolde.”
“Well done,” Ewen said, but the words hardly sounded like praise.
Even so, a swell of pride warmed Isolde’s chest for a heartbeat before she tamped it down. She had to win this final round for her dreams to become reality—to prove once and for all she was worthy of fighting alongside any of them.
With a stern look on his face, Ewen moved to the third target. The crowd murmured in anticipation as he prepared for the final round. Once he brought his arrow up, silence descended over the courtyard. His arrow flew straight and true, burrowing into the target at the centre. His second arrow followed quickly, and hit the target right beside the other arrow. His smug grin reappeared. “Try to beat me now, if you can.”
Ewen wasn’t giving up without a fight. She had to best him once more with two perfectly aimed arrows. Again, those gathered conversed amongst themselves as Isolde lined up with the target. Ewen came to stand beside her.
“You’re not worried about hitting the target, are you?” he asked in a snide tone.
He was trying to intimidate her with his presence. Well, it didn’t matter. She would hit her target regardless.
The noise about them silenced, until Isolde could hear only the sound of her own breathing. She sighted the end of Ewen’s arrow in the target and with a burst of confidence slowly released her grip. In the same instant, Ewen’s foot came out and tapped hers, sending her arrow off target. Instant outrage filled her. In the span of a heartbeat, she plucked another arrow from her quiver and stepped farther away, letting the arrow fly, then another after that. But this time, Ewen lunged straight at her, knocking the third arrow in a wild arc, well away from the target. Isolde fell to the ground with a thump. Ewen fell on top of her.
“Get off me!” She pushed Ewen’s big body away and wiggled out from under him before gaining her feet.
A cacophony of noise filled the courtyard—from jests that she had been beaten, to those protesting that Ewen had cheated. But two sounds rose above the others. A cry of distress sounded, then a second bellow of rage.
Isolde looked to where her brother and sister-in-law had stood next to the targets. Sarah lay upon the ground, clutching an arrow in her lower abdomen. John knelt beside her with an arrow protruding from his shoulder.
A cold chill came over Isolde. She twisted towards Ewen. “Look what your cheating has caused.”
He features hardened. “I wasn’t the one firing the arrows.”
With disgust, she raced to John and Sarah, tossing the bow and quiver to the ground before dropping to her knees beside them. “What can I do? How can I help?”
“My baby. Please, someone help my baby.”
Isolde reached for Sarah’s hand as the pregnant woman groaned in pain.
Her brother’s face contorted with rage and pain as he looked to Isolde. “You’ve done enough.” He slapped her hand away. “Get away from Sarah. Get away from me. In fact, get out of this castle. You wanted your freedom. Take it. Leave with the clothes on your back. Nothing more. I never wish to see you again.”
John tried to scoop Sarah up in his arms but when that failed because of his own injury, he motioned for one of his men to lift her instead. John followed behind as Sarah was carried to the castle. When Isolde accompanied them, John paused to rake her with another icy glare of hatred. “Get her out of here. And someone fetch the midwife.”
“Nay!” One voice cut through the noise. “She has been wronged by a cheater. Do not force her to leave.” Maribeth, Isolde’s maid protested, coming to Isolde’s side.
But her plea fell on deaf ears as her brother once again shouted, “You shot the arrows, Isolde. You threaten the life of my child. In turn, I will threaten your life by disowning you.”
Isolde knew her brother was serious. She’d seen that look on his face when they were children and she’d bested him in competition. The thought gripped her around the throat as she fought to swallow. Quickly, she snapped up her quiver, slinging it over her shoulder, then her bow, and headed for the still-open gates. Without looking back, she raced across the drawbridge and into the wilderness beyond Scorrybreac Castle.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

It’s impossible to defy destiny…

Orrick MacLeod is a famed Highland warrior from a powerful clan who can no longer fight. Painful memories from battles plague him when he raises his sword, and he fears that one day he’ll hesitate and he, or one of his brothers, will perish. Leaving his castle to thwart his battle hero destiny, he stumbles across a young woman. Rumors whisper she’s born of fairies, but Orrick only sees a beautiful woman in jeopardy.

Isolde Nicolson is a devoted daughter of her clan, but when she rejected her chieftain brother’s choice of a cruel husband by striking her brother with an arrow, she’s banished. The kindly Orrick shelters her in the safety of the MacLeod castle where they soon unlock hidden desires. Orrick wishes to ask for her hand in marriage, but when he tries to do what’s right, everything goes wrong.

As an incident threatens to tear the MacLeod family apart, a pivotal and bloody battle between English and Scottish forces ensues. Soon the warrior who can no longer fight must stand to protect everything he holds dear.

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Meet the Author:

Gerri Russell is the award-winning author of historical and contemporary novels including the Brotherhood of the Scottish Templars series and Flirting with Felicity. A two-time recipient of the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award and winner of the American Title II competition sponsored by RT Book Reviews magazine, she is best known for her adventurous and emotionally intense novels set in the thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Scottish Highlands. Before Gerri followed her passion for writing romance novels, she worked as a broadcast journalist, a newspaper reporter, a magazine columnist, a technical writer and editor, and an instructional designer. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and four mischievous black cats.
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