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Time For A Highlander

Real Men Wear Kilts

The Wild Rose Press

Heat Rating: SCORCHING
Word Count: 91,282
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Forty-five-year-old history teacher Bethany Anne Anderson wasn't supposed to die on her dream vacation to Scotland. Someone else was supposed to rescue the child from the falling druid stone. But she's perfectly fine with moving on to the hereafter. She has loved ones waiting for her. Then Tobias Morie, better known as Fate, steps in. Her intervention has changed the future. Before she can move on, she must first help him correct one of his own mistakes. That's fine until she wakes up in 1643 in the body of twenty-year-old Lady Elspeth Frasier. Worse, she's engaged to the very handsome, very young, very virile Quinton MacLeod. But that's not all Fate demands. She must give the Highland laird the heir he’d originally been denied.

Quinton MacLeod loved once. He won't do it again, even if he had time for such nonsense. With the Highland lairds divided between loyalty to their beloved country and the English king, he seeks only peace—in his keep and in his heart. But raised in England and a ward of the enemy, his beautiful new wife has strange notions of education and cleanliness that cause chaos within both. There's also the matter of her very unlady-like views on the marriage bed, which, come to think of it, he's more than happy to overlook. If only he could trust her.

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Beth’s eyes flew open as warm hands gently shook her awake. “Elspeth, are ye or are ye nae still a maiden?”
She stared up into the stormy blue eyes of Lard Quinton MacLeod and shook her head no, then nodded yes.
“Which is it?”
She cleared her throat. “I swear to you, m—my lord, Elspeth Frasier MacLeod’s body is still untouched by any man.”
Quint smiled as he slowly brought his lips to hers. He chuckled. “Nae for long it isna.”
The heat of his kiss as his lips captured hers burned Beth with a passion that seared her to the depths of her being. She was helpless, defenseless against the onslaught. She opened in surrender as his tongue slipped between her lips. It was heaven.
Her Highlander tasted of the tangy sweetness of ale mixed with honey and smelled of lust sprinkled with manly musk. With his beefy arms that now held her close, along with his large strong hands that caressed her and combined with his firm, forceful lips that devoured her, he was impossible to resist. But then she didn’t really want to.
“Mine,” he whispered against her still partially open mouth as his fingers slowly trailed down her body and possessively grasped her mound. “You’ll find me to be a greedy man, my wife, my Elspeth, my Beth. I do nae share what’s mine, nae ever.”
The smoldering fire of his gaze bore deeply into her soul, seeking, searching for answers to questions she couldn’t give him. She gulped.

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