All she does know? She’s starting to fall in love with him.
Love with a Scottish Outlaw
Highland Weddings #3
Gayle Callen
Releasing June 27, 2017
Avon Books
Catriona
Duff can’t remember who she is. Discovered in the midst of a raging
thunderstorm, she has no recollection of how she came to be there or how the
guards around her ended up dead. She certainly doesn’t remember that the
handsome Highlander who saves her is her family’s sworn enemy. All she does
know? She’s starting to fall in love with him.
Duncan Carlyle couldn’t believe his luck when he found Catriona, the daughter of the man who made him an outlaw and forced him from his ancestral home, stranded on the road with nothing to her name--including her memory. Speaking out against Aberfoyle’s evil practices of stealing poor and orphaned children to sell to the highest bidder has cost him everything, but now he has the opportunity to make the man understand the true price of a missing child. But as Duncan begins to know Cat, guilt over his actions wars with his irrepressible desire for her.
When Cat discovers the truth of her identity, she decides she can teach the outlawed clan chief a lesson, but in love, there’s more than one way to win.
Duncan Carlyle couldn’t believe his luck when he found Catriona, the daughter of the man who made him an outlaw and forced him from his ancestral home, stranded on the road with nothing to her name--including her memory. Speaking out against Aberfoyle’s evil practices of stealing poor and orphaned children to sell to the highest bidder has cost him everything, but now he has the opportunity to make the man understand the true price of a missing child. But as Duncan begins to know Cat, guilt over his actions wars with his irrepressible desire for her.
When Cat discovers the truth of her identity, she decides she can teach the outlawed clan chief a lesson, but in love, there’s more than one way to win.
Duncan lifted the woman’s upper body into his left arm,
cradling her head so that he blocked the rain. He probed near her wound
gingerly with his right hand, and she frowned and weakly tried to turn away.
His wariness deepened. There was something about her, a
familiarity that echoed inside his head but refused to take shape.
“Where am I?” she whispered, her accent English. “What
happened?”
An English lady in the Highlands? He chose to answer the
second question rather than the first. “Ye’ve a nasty wound to your head,
mistress. Did ye fall?”
She blinked as if she might lose consciousness. “Where am
I? What happened?”
Now it was his turn to blink, but he remembered that
wounds of the head could cause confusion. He knew he had to stop the blood
loss.
“Mistress, can ye stand?”
She opened those eyes again, large and golden, in a
delicate face. Her dark hair streamed back from her forehead, her hairline
coming to a peak.
He recognized her, a flash of memory from Stirling several
years ago, when he’d glared his hatred at the Earl of Aberfoyle, a haughty old
man on horseback, forcing aside a poor lass heavy with child to make way for
him. The earl’s family was seldom in Scotland, so their arrival in the
Highlands had caused a stir. Duncan had seen this woman riding just behind,
wearing the fine gown and jaunty hat that marked her a noble lady. At least
she’d looked distressed at her father’s actions.
Catriona Duff was the daughter of Aberfoyle, the chief of
the Clan Duff and Duncan’s bitter enemy. Aberfoyle was one of the main reasons
that Duncan was an outlaw who had to protect and feed his people while on the
run.
He lifted his head and looked about, as if the earl and
his entire retinue were somewhere nearby, waiting to attack him. “Where are
your men?” he demanded.
“What happened?” she asked weakly.
“Ye’ve hit your head. Where are your men?”
“My—men?”
Her hand fluttered toward her forehead, but he didn’t
allow her to touch the wound.
A spasm of pain narrowed her eyes. “I found them . . .
dead,” she whispered. “What happened to me?”
“I don’t know.” Six weeks after almost being captured, he
was still wary of anything unusual in his part of the Highlands. Dead men would
prove her story true, but he couldn’t deal with them now.
“I—I can’t remember—I can’t remember anything!” Though her
cry was feeble, it was full of helplessness and fear.
“Ye don’t remember the accident?”
“Not . . . the accident, not
even . . . my name.”
He frowned down at her, wondering at what intrigue she was
playing—or what her father had set in motion. He wouldn’t put it past the
bastard.
She clutched his plaid. “What happened to me?” she cried
in despair.
“I do not ken. I must clean that wound. Can ye stand? I
can pull ye up on my horse.”
He rose, lifting her up with him until she could clutch
the saddle for support. After mounting, he reached down for her. He would have
preferred she ride astride behind him, but she seemed so weak that he ended up
cradling her across his thighs. She leaned into him, her head lolling onto his
chest, her blood staining his black, red, and yellow plaid.
It didn’t take long to reach the rocky overhang he’d used
for shelter several other times. Once out of the rain, he searched his saddle
pack but found nothing that would do for a clean bandage. He ended up cutting
several strips from the end of his shirt with his dirk. The wound seemed clean
enough after all the rain, so he wrapped the improvised bandages around her
head and hoped they stopped the bleeding.
She looked at him helplessly the whole time, and he felt
like she was memorizing his features. He studied her, too. Her high cheekbones
emphasized the hollows beneath, and her full lips hinted at an expressive
mouth. Her pale face was as remote and beautiful as a statue, making her appeal
to him on a primitive level that he would never acknowledge.
Why was she in the remote
Highlands? According to gossip he’d heard long ago, she rarely visited her
father’s castles. Was she the advance of a larger party headed right for
Duncan’s unsuspecting people? She was so close to his hidden encampment. If he
let her go, she could bring men to hunt the area, risking his people—risking
the good he was trying to do. He couldn’t release her until he knew all the
facts.
If you had to title your own life what would it be
and why?
“Lucky in Love.” I met my
husband a year before we started dating, but once we dated, we married within
six months. And I knew that first month that I was in love with him. So any
time someone uses love at first sight in a romance novel, I think it could be
true, because it happened to me. And we’ve been married 35 years, so it can
work!
What is your favorite place to visit?
It may sound cliché for a
historical romance author, but I love England. I’ve visited three times now,
and every time I see a different part of the country, I fall in love all over
again. Last time, I visited my daughter who was studying for her semester
abroad in London. The two of us rented a car and drove north—on the left side
of the road!—all the way to Yorkshire. The countryside changes so much, from
thatched roofs and abundant gardens, to bleak moors that roll to the horizon. Incredible!
Favorite writing place.
Even though I’ve written
most of my books from a small office on the lower level of my house, my
favorite place to write is on my patio. I spent all last summer working outside
4-6 hours every day. My yard is mostly trees, but I have an umbrella to sit beneath
when the sun is overhead. I planted begonias and impatiens, which do well in
the shade. I put up my feet up, my laptop on a lap desk, and I write, listening
to the sound of the bees, the birds, and distant lawn mowers. My neighbor has
several bird feeders that spill seeds onto the ground, so sometimes birds,
squirrels, bunnies, and chipmunks are all cavorting in the grass together, like
my own private show. It’s so peaceful!
What are 5 things you must have with you when you
write?
Ooh, interesting question.
I don’t think I’m superstitious about anything in particular, but there are
some constants when I’m writing a book. A laptop is number one—a desktop
computer can’t easily be moved, so I’ve used a laptop for years so I can set it
aside to research, spread out my index cards, etc. And I want to be able to
take it with me, too! Next, I always have ice water in a big insulated mug. I
have index cards, because that’s how I keep track of all my scenes. I use a
purple pen to write on them. And lastly, markers, because I highlight a corner of
each index card to keep track of all my plotlines when I lay the cards out:
purple for the heroine’s emotional growth, blue for the hero, pink for the
romance plot, then green/orange/red for the various plotlines in the book. Yes,
I love to organize and plot things out.
Can you tell us a little about your book?
I was so excited to write LOVE WITH A SCOTTISH OUTLAW, mainly because I finally found a story to fit a plot I’d always wanted to write: amnesia. I opened the book with the heroine, Catriona, waking up in the Scottish Highlands, her head bleeding, not knowing who she is. It was such fun to write! The hero Duncan is the chief of an outlawed clan—and he knows exactly who she is, the daughter of his enemy. While Catriona thinks he is being kind enough to house her while she discovers who she is, Duncan is really holding her captive. And of course, the sparks fly!
I was so excited to write LOVE WITH A SCOTTISH OUTLAW, mainly because I finally found a story to fit a plot I’d always wanted to write: amnesia. I opened the book with the heroine, Catriona, waking up in the Scottish Highlands, her head bleeding, not knowing who she is. It was such fun to write! The hero Duncan is the chief of an outlawed clan—and he knows exactly who she is, the daughter of his enemy. While Catriona thinks he is being kind enough to house her while she discovers who she is, Duncan is really holding her captive. And of course, the sparks fly!
After a
detour through fitness instructing and computer programming, Gayle
Callen found the life she’d always dreamed of as a romance writer.
This USA Today bestselling author has written more than twenty
historical romances for Avon Books, and her novels have won the Holt Medallion,
the Laurel Wreath Award, the Booksellers’ Best Award, and been translated into
eleven different languages. The mother of three grown children, an avid
crafter, singer, and outdoor enthusiast, Gayle lives in Central New York with
her dog Uma and her husband, Jim the Romance Hero. She also writes contemporary
romances as Emma Cane. Discover more at her website.
Thank you for hosting!
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