Reviews and an Excerpt from My fierce Highlander by Vonda Sinclair..*Giveaway*

Scottish Highlands, 1618

A stiff breeze carried the scent of bruised grass and blood on its icy breath.

Death.

Gwyneth Carswell dropped into a crouch and peered through brambles at the tartan-clad bodies, a dozen or more, lying in the dusky gloaming. While gathering herbs earlier, she’d heard the sounds of battle—men shouting, steel clanging, horses screaming.

A chill shook her. The men of the MacIrwin clan, her distant kin, lived and died only for a skirmish.

Her sheltered upbringing in England had molded her into the person she was, a lover of peace, but she’d been in the Highlands long enough to expect brutality at every turn. Thank God her son had stayed in the cottage with Mora.

“More senseless death,” she whispered, yearning to run and hide in the cottage, curl up beneath the blankets, and forget she was a healer. Forget all the drained blood and horrifying wounds that would never heal.

But she must not. She must again face death all around her. Dread and nausea rising within her, she covered her nose with a handkerchief. After peering about to make sure she was alone, she crept onto the soggy moor and forced herself to look at the butchered bodies of her cousins…and their enemies.

Who had they been fighting?

Pressing her eyes closed to block out the slit throats and other mutilation, she murmured a prayer, both for their departed souls and for strength that she might keep going.

Please, allow me to save the life of at least one.

A haunting groan floated on the breeze. A sign? Her prayer answered? Gwyneth froze, listening. The groan sounded again, straight ahead.

She rushed to the far edge of the clearing.

Daylight dwindled, but she knew she’d never before seen the injured man, a large warrior with long dark hair, obviously from the enemy clan. She could not tear her gaze from his clean-shaven face, smeared and spattered with blood. Never had she seen such a striking man. But something more captivated her, something she could only sense with her woman’s intuition. She yearned for him to open his eyes, but he didn’t.

Blood soaked through his white shirt and fine, pale-blue doublet.

Kneeling on the damp ground, she attempted to press her hand against his chest to feel his heartbeat, but a rolled-up parchment lay in her way within his doublet. She removed it and checked his heart.

The thump was slow but strong and steady.

Her eyes locked to his face again. Enticing, yes, but still an enemy.

Wary of him and what message he carried, she stripped the ribbon from the missive and flattened the thick paper. In the dim light, she could barely decipher a few of the Gaelic words inscribed in bold letters across the top.

A peace agreement? Had the MacIrwins ambushed them? She stared down at the man again, lifted his hand and found a seal ring on his finger. A chief?

For a second, it seemed the very ground had a pulse. The vibrating sensation disoriented her.

Horses!

Distant hoof-beats grew louder and thundered in her direction—the MacIrwin reinforcements coming to finish off their enemies. Her pulse roared in her ears.

If they discovered this man hanging onto life, they’d cut his throat. Especially if he was a chief who wanted peace. Gwyneth crammed the parchment back inside his doublet and stood.

She grasped the thick leather belt that held the man’s plaide in place at his waist and struggled to drag him a few feet into the yellow blooming gorse and weeds. Good lord, he was heavy, comprised of honed warrior muscle. Another tug, then she rolled him down a short incline and behind the bushes, praying all this shifting wouldn’t worsen his injuries. She spread her dull-colored skirts and plaid arisaidover him to conceal the visibility of his light-colored doublet in the dusk.

Her body trembling, she gently bit her knuckle to quiet her chattering teeth. Please, do not let them find us. She hardly dared to breathe.

The horses’ hooves thumped over the grass, and the riders yelled in Gaelic—mostly vows of revenge against the cursed MacGraths.

Through the bushes and gorse, she watched as they loaded the dead bodies onto horses.

Warmongers!

Several minutes later, the MacIrwin men rode away. After a while, silence descended and naught could be heard but the nearby stream and a faraway owl. Gwyneth calmed by slow degrees.

Taking a deep breath, she rose on shaking legs. The man lying at her feet was so large she couldn’t move him again, not alone, uphill, for the strength that had come with fear had ebbed.

She ran up to the stone cottage, her feet tangling in the rocks and low-growing plants.

Breathing hard, Gwyneth burst through the door, the bitter scent of peat smoke and tangy drying herbs replacing that of fresh air. “Mora, did you hear the battle?”

“Aye, I reckon they were fighting the MacGrath. ’Tis always a blood feud betwixt them.” Her friend and fellow healer bent over her knitting, her gray head wrapped in a white kerch. The fire smoldering in the center of the room provided little light.

“One man still lives. He’s been knocked out, but his breathing is strong. We must bring him here and see to his injuries.”

“Who is he?” Suspicion laced through Mora’s thick brogue.

“I know not.”

“One of the enemy?”

“Likely.”

“Mmph. I won’t be helping the MacGraths.”

“A dozen men are dead. For what purpose? All this fighting is madness!”

“Easy for you to say, English. Lived here nigh on six years, you have, and still you ken naught of our Highland ways.”

She knew enough about their violent way of life and hated it. Gwyneth glanced at her five-year-old son sleeping in the box bed on the other side of the room and lowered her voice. “I would die before I’d let Rory become one of them, giving up his precious life over a senseless dispute.” She had to find a way to take him out of the Highlands before Laird Donald MacIrwin forced him into the ranks of his fighting men. “And you’re right, I cannot understand so much bloodshed over nothing.”

“’Tis not for naught. The MacGraths killed Donald’s brother ten years past. Then there was the time the MacGraths claimed a goodly portion of MacIrwin land. We don’t take the stealing of land lightly.”

How could her friend be so cold?“This man who yet lives is carrying a peace treaty. He wears a seal ring and appears to be the chief. Aside from that, he’s human and we’re healers. If I can save a life, I will, whether he is friend, foe or beast.”

“Aye, you with your gentle lady’s heart. You’ll get us killed. What if Donald finds out?”

A chill raced through her at that thought. “He rarely comes here.” Though the clan chief was her second cousin on her father’s side, no fondness existed between them.

“’Tis a bad feeling I have about this. You’ll regret it.”

“Do you not think the MacGraths will exact a severe revenge against us all if the MacIrwins kill their chief? He wants peace, as we do.”

“Well, this is not the way to go about it. I’ve been around a few years longer than you have, Sassenach.”

“I will drag the big brute up here myself, then.” She yanked a blanket off the bed, left the cottage and strode down the hill once again toward the glen. The stones slid and rolled beneath her slippers and bit into her feet. If Mora wouldn’t help her, she’d do what she could for the man.

Something all-consuming rose up from her soul and railed, refusing to allow him to lie there and die. Though his body looked powerful, he was helpless now. As helpless as a child, helpless as little Rory. All this man’s fearsomeness at her mercy, she was awed by the power she held over him, to help him reclaim his strength and his life…or let it drain away. That would be a sin far worse than any she’d ever committed, of which she had many. The peace treaty and something deep within her proclaimed his life was worth saving a hundred times over.

Gwyneth crouched behind a patch of thistles at the edge of the glen and listened for MacIrwins. The only sound was the wind hissing through the pine needles and the splash of the stream.

A rock clattered down the slope behind her. Startled, she turned to find Mora approaching with a wood and linen litter. “Verra weil, English. I reckon I cannot let you do all the healing by yourself. And we’ll be needing this to haul his big arse up the hill.”

Gwyneth arose, suppressing a smile. “I thank you for your kind heart, Mora.”

“Mmph. Where is the heathen?”

“I hid him in the weeds and bushes so they wouldn’t finish him off.” She led Mora across the small glen to the MacGrath.

Mora knelt over him. “Aye, his breathing is strong. He may yet survive.”

They rolled him onto the litter. Laboring under his considerable weight, they dragged him toward the cottage. Full night had fallen, making their arduous trek up the hillside even more difficult.

“Good heavens, he must weigh twenty stone.” Mora huffed and gasped.

“I’m in agreement.” Gwyneth’s arms and legs ached from her efforts.

“This one didn’t starve the winter.”

“No, indeed.”

Mora started toward the cottage.

“Let’s hide him in the cattle byre. ’Twill be safer should Donald come by,” Gwyneth said.

Mora narrowed her eyes. “You’re being mighty canny of a sudden.”

“Well, I know if he finds us hiding his enemy, he’ll likely fly into a violent rage.”

“Aye, and kill us all,” Mora grumbled.

Gwyneth shoved the dread away and ignored her friend’s pessimistic view. “We shall hide him well.”

They dragged the MacGrath into the stone byre, which stood several yards from the cottage, and rolled him onto a wool blanket on the hard-packed dirt floor.

After a trip to the cottage, Mora lit several fir roots in order to find his wounds.

“A bonny lad, he is,” Mora proclaimed.

Lad, indeed. Rory was a lad. This giant was a man full grown. But bonny, yes. In the soft flame-light, his midnight hair, his equally dark brows and thick lashes captured Gwyneth’s attention.

Open your eyes.

They would be dark too, would they not? Dark as tempting, dangerous sin in the blackest night. Beard stubble shadowed his authoritative jaw and framed his sensual mouth.

I am going daft, noticing such things at a time like this.

Forcing herself to ignore his face, she unfastened the brass brooch shaped like a falcon that held the upper part of his blue plaid in place over his shoulder, removed the brown leather pouch-like sporran from his waist and dropped the brooch inside.

“Do you not think he’s the laird?” Gwyneth raised his strong hand to show Mora the seal ring, the heat of him seeping beyond her skin.

“Aye, I’d wager he is the young laird. I’ve never laid eyes on the man afore now. Though I recollect hearing of the old laird’s passing sometime back, and he does favor him. ’Course all the MacGraths have a certain dark look about them.”

Gwyneth tugged the ring from his finger and placed it in the sporran.

“His clothes are of fine material.” Mora pushed the doublet open. “And would you look at this.” She pulled a gleaming brass-hilted dagger from inside the garment, near his armpit.

She used the sharp weapon to cut his bloody clothing away from his upper body.

Holding her breath, Gwyneth could but gape as each inch of skin and sculpted muscle was revealed.

Among the multitude of scars on his chest, two long shallow sword cuts oozed blood. A lead ball from a pistol had grazed his shoulder, leaving a furrow of torn flesh.

She would stitch him up so he would heal, good as new.

A slice in his plaid alerted them to another wound. Mora unhooked his leather belt and eased his kilt down to reveal a cut to the right side of his lean waist close to his pelvic bone.

Wanton excitement stirred within Gwyneth at the sight of this enemy Scot’s near-naked body. I should close my eyes, look away. He is a patient. Heat seared her from the inside out.

Though she’d attended to many an unclothed man after a skirmish or during sickness, she had never seen a man so beautifully formed. God had certainly smiled upon him.

“’Tis shallow,” Mora said. “He’s lucky they didn’t strike his vitals.”

They cleaned his wounds with a wash of royal fern steeped in clean water, stitched up the deeper cuts, then smeared them with a paste of fern and comfrey.

“My, but a fine-looking man he is, aye?” Mora smiled and winked. “Reminds me of my own big Geordie afore he passed on.”

Indeed, fine-looking was too mild a term, in Gwyneth’s estimation but she ignored the question. She would not have Mora know of the embarrassing effect the man was having on her.

Most men of her acquaintance were the same—arrogant, cruel, and harsh. Whether fancy English gentlemen or braw Scottish warriors, they only thought of their own superiority and how they might wield power over others. Women were naught but chattel and thralls. By helping to save this one’s life, she was gambling, hoping to win peace.

“Och, here’s what ails him most.” Mora examined the Scot’s head. “He’s bashed his skull and good.”

“Let me see.” Gwyneth knelt on the dirt floor above him. His hair was sticky with blood, and a knot swelled on the back of his head. “It seems to have stopped bleeding.”

“Aye. Not much to be done for it, anyway.”

Nevertheless, Gwyneth cleaned the wound and applied the herbal paste as best she could in his thick hair. She concentrated on her task more intently while Mora covered him with a blanket and worked his plaid out from under him. Gwyneth tried not to think about his nakedness beneath it. Surely it was a sin to hold such thoughts.

“We’ve done all we can for him. He’s in God’s hands now. ’Tis off to bed, I am.”

Carrying his belongings, Gwyneth walked with Mora back to the cottage and hid his things in a rough wooden chest. She approached the bed where Rory lay. Relieved he’d slept through the commotion, she kissed his forehead and straightened. “I’ll go back out and sit with the MacGrath man for a short while.”

“Suit yourself. Best take your sgian dubh with you, just in case he wakes up none too happy about where he’s at.”

Gwyneth nodded and touched the dirk hidden in her bodice to be sure it was still there. She hoped she wouldn’t have to defend herself against a man she was trying to help. But, the truth was, she didn’t know him or what he might do.

Above the dark rounded peaks of the mountains, a quarter moon peeped through the clouds, providing the faintest of light for her to navigate the path to the byre. A whitish-gray mist crawled up from the glen, reminding her of the souls of the recently departed and giving her a chill. She inhaled the scent of rain before entering the tiny building and closing the door.

The handsome stranger lying insensible on the floor drew her gaze. The old plaid blanket did little to conceal his fine form, large and well-trained for battle, hard and heavy with muscle. She hoped she wouldn’t regret helping him. If he carried a peace treaty, surely he was a good man. A better man than Donald MacIrwin, at least.

Now, if only this MacGrath would awaken and return to his own lands, she would rest much easier. If he could somehow bring peace, she would be doubly grateful. But she feared there would be no peace as long as Donald MacIrwin drew breath.

Through the door, the haunting, fluted call of a curlew reached her. Gwyneth shivered. Mora had told her more than once that a curlew heard at night was a bad omen.

My Fierce Highlander Copyright 2011 Vonda Sinclair

www.vondasinclair.com

Buy link

My Fierce Highlander

http://amzn.com/B005ESI94C

~REVIEWS~

Reviewed at: CBLS Reviews
Reviewed by: Toni
What a refreshing change from the norm!

Gwyneth Carswell is one of the most independent historical women I have ever read about. She was fierce in her own right. Due to an unfortunate scandal, she is sent to the Scotland Highlands by her father.

She was born and breed as a lady, but she blossomed into an amazing strong, protective and productive woman. Gwyneth takes her responsibility as a mother seriously and refuses to become a dithering love struck lass. She is a modern woman in 1618, a true gem.

Laird Alasdair MacGrath is pure heaven. When I sit back and fantasize what MY highlander looks like, I see Alasdair. Dark haired, tall and a body built from battle. That's not all though, he is confident, smart, witty, charming, protective, kind and extremely passionate. He is a dream come true, but an unrealistic dream that Gwyneth believes she can never have.

My Fierce Highlander is a story that grabs you and won't let go. It draws you in, pulling you up a hill of sexual tension and building suspense, then cresting the peak for a beautiful descent into the world of love and passion.

Gwyneth and Alasdair is a perfectly matched couple. The couple's troubles, obstacles and victories all seemed real and ideal. Ms. Sinclair did a fabulous job writing a well balanced and enjoyable book. The story had just enough descriptions of the land and its people to enhance the story without bogging down the storyline. The action was intense and the love scenes were sultry.

The other characters truly enhanced the enjoyment of the story. Rory, Gwyneth's son, was adorable and such a wonderful addition to the story. He kept the plot grounded and real. I absolutely adored Alasdair's brother, Lachlan. He kept me chuckling and shaking my head at him throughout the book. He is a perfect scoundrel. He will be a great story to read about in the next book. I can't wait.

This is superb historical romance that will keep you up late and engaged. My Fierce Highlander will be a keeper on my shelf.----

I'm a huge fan of Highlander-type stories and I was amazed to find Vonda Sinclair's MY FIERCE HIGHLANDER was on a par with Julie Garwood and Judith McNaught. I was even more amazed to discover that Vonda Sinclair didn't have a big-time publisher promoting her books.

The story takes place 1618 Scotland where the heroine has been sent away by her father, an English earl, to a Scottish cousin's territory.

When her father discovered Gwyneth pregnant by an English Marquis who then refused to be forced into marriage he banished her from the family. She married one of her Scottish cousin's men in order to give her bastard son a name and is now a widow. Gwyneth's strict Protestant upbringing makes her believe she's unworthy of love and it takes a good portion of the story for her to accept that she deserves happiness.

Laird Alasdair MacGrath spends his time wooing and protecting her and her son from her murderous cousin and the English Marquis who has now decided he wants his son at any cost which includes killing Gwyneth.

It was so refreshing to read a story where the heroine is intelligent, passionate and brave without the silliness of a "misunderstanding" or "too-stupid-to-live" actions and reactions. The hero, Alasdair continues to woo her and doesn't initially know or care about her aristocratic upbringing. When he discovers she's the daughter of the earl it only makes his wooing more difficult. He's a good man made only a better man by his love for her.

Another great element of this story is how the romance and the plot of the evil cousin and English Marquis are woven into the story. It's seamless and organic to the progress of the romance.

MY FIERCE HIGHLANDER has the perfect balance of romance, love scenes and plot and smoothly sets up a sequel with Alasdair's brother.

I haven't read MY WILD HIGHLANDER yet, but honestly folks, it's next on my buy list but I have to wait for the weekend because otherwise I'll be up all night reading it.

Do yourself a favor and read Vonda Sinclair and if there are any publishers out there reading this review you should grab this writer fast because her level of competence in writing romance is far superior to what I've been reading over the last several years.

Thank goodness that Amazon Kindle allows authors to get their work out into the marketplace.

Kathryn (reader review from Amazon)


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"Overall, I felt like I was reading a nice combination of Julie Garwood and Johanna Lindsey and although I have never heard of this author until now, I am already a fan. Vonda Sinclair did an amazing job writing an entertaining highland romance. It was fluid and wonderfully paced which allowed me as a reader to savour the character's emotions and events written within the pages. I look forward to the next installment in this highly anticipated series." Lori at Escape Between the Pages

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"Vonda Sinclair captures the excitement and magic in romance with My Fierce Highlander! Her vivid story telling brought the Scottish Highlands to life with detail and accuracy. The language used was not complicated if you are unaccustomed to Scottish Romances, just enough of that sexy brogue and Gaelic to make you tingle. Sinclair delivers a plot that is enticing and moved fluidly with captivating characters full of dimension that were brought to life on the pages. The romance was balanced nicely with action and suspense. I was caught breathless during the most romantic scenes ever, being drawn in by Alasdair and Gwyneth's sizzling chemistry and fiery passion." Crystal at Reading Between the Wines

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"Vonda writes with so much passion, you can feel like you are right there in the mist of what's happening... I do like historical but they have to hit me right in some areas that I am picky in, this one hits me right in all the right ways, I was very impressed and screaming for more." Bitten By Paranormal Romance

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"This book starts off strong. I started around 10pm and ended up reading it straight through til 2am! I kept saying to myself “As soon as I find a stopping point, I’ll put it down,” but I just kept on reading... This was my first Vonda Sinclair read, and it won't be my last. The Highland Hussy decrees that Ms. Sinclair is a fantastic writer, who brought so much of the reality of fighting and feuding Highlanders to the pages, that it was easy to visualize and sympathize with Gwyneth." Demon Lovers Books and More

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Review by The Readers Roundtable
http://thereadersroundtable.com/historical/?p=44

Who doesn’t love a saucy highlander romance? It doesn’t get better than My Fierce Highlander when you’re looking for a handsome highland warrior with sex appeal out the ying-yang!
When a battle breaks out on her cousin’s land, Gwyneth saves Alasdair, a laird from a rival clan. She hides him and heals him in secret, knowing he’s come with a peace treaty. When Alasdair wakes up, he’s surprised Gwyneth is taking care of him and doesn’t quite trust her. He must go back to his clan, but knows he’ll always protect Gwyneth for saving his life.

This story is well written, reads easily and quickly and there isn’t a moment you won’t be deep into the storyline, totally involved with the characters. Before the sex, Gwyneth and Alasdair are already emotionally involved, which doesn’t always happen these days and it’s so nice to read that today. The sex is sensual and romantic with highly emotional, tender moments. It’s heartfelt and will give you the warm-and-fuzzies on many occasions.

Alasdair is a handsome, highland warrior who knows how to take care of his woman and I wholeheartedly recommend it to those of you who love a good highland romance!
It’s absolutely yummy!
Rated 5 Gold Crowns and a Recommended Read by Beth!

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Review of My Fierce Highlander by Eliza Knight at History Undressed

http://historyundressed.blogspot.com/2011/09/historical-romance-review-my-fierce.html

The book starts out with action, intensity, drawing you in immediately. Ms. Sinclair has penned both a heroine and hero the reader easily connects to and empathizes with. Both are stubborn, courageous, loyal, loving and fierce. And have a habit of saving each other's lives.

The stakes are high for both Gwyneth and Alasdair, and just when it seems that things might calm down, that they might both finally gain what they are yearning for--disaster strikes! You'll be kept on the edge of your seat until the sweet end.

The historical facts were spot on. I love being able to visualize everything in the book, the clothes, the castles, the weapons, the fight scenes, the landscape, the horses, etc... In addition to a great deal of obvious historical and herbal research, the author did an excellent job with sensory details. I could smell, hear, feel along with the characters.

You will also find another sweet character in this book, Rory--Gwyneth's son. He was so adorable, and did all the things my own five year old does, even down to hopping across the room in excitement. I do enjoy a book that has a child(ren) in it, because as a mother, it makes me smile and remember why I had kids in the first place (especially when they are ripping each other's hair out while I'm reading...sigh. Thanks for the reminder, Ms. Sinclair!)

Beyond the intensity of this story, there is an enchanting love developing between the two main characters with explosive love scenes, that take your breath away. I liked watching how the author weaved their love together, it was vivid, and left no question of motivation in my mind--and toward the end when it looks like they just might not be together forever, I wanted to reach inside there and throttle them both! But, Ms. Sinclair did not disappoint, and in the end I was a truly satisfied reader.

Well done, Ms. Sinclair! I highly recommend this book! And now I'm off to read the sequel, because I just have to see how Alasdair's brother fairs in love...

 Vonda will be giving away two prizes to two lucky winners!!! One Winner will recieve an E-copy of MY FIERCE HIGHLANDER and another will win a pair of handmade Silver Celtic Earrings!!! Winners will be chosen at random once the SPOTLIGHT is over!

*Stop by tomorrow to learn about My Wild Highlander!!!!*