Hot off the (electronic) press. Vampires, terror and passion in the Highlands.
'Temptation in Tartan' is the first in the Kilburn Vampires series from bestselling author, Suz deMello and it's published today (June 1st)
She had to marry a monster…
Rumors
had followed the chieftains of Clan Kilborn for centuries. Said to be descended
from the Viking Berserkers, they were ferocious in battle, known for tearing
off the heads of their enemies and drinking their blood.
But
English noblewoman Lydia Swann Williston would marry Kieran, Laird Kilborn, to
bring peace to the Kilborn lands after the horror of Culloden and the brutal
pacification. A widow, she also brought needed wealth to Clan Kilborn. For her
part, eighteen-year-old Lydia
wanted children. With her husband killed at Culloden, she would make a new life
in the Highlands.
The old
chieftain of Clan Kilborn also died in battle, and she hoped that the new young
Laird would lack his ancestors' ferocity.
She was wrong.
Here's an excerpt:
“The Kilborns are great warriors,
rumored to be descended from Viking berserkers.” Colonel Swann paced the
drawing room, his boots soundless on the thick rugs.
Lydia’s
belly clenched and she drew a frightened breath. “Berserkers! The savages who
raided our shores, murdering monks and, er…attacking women?”
The
colonel stared at her as though a potted plant had decided to speak. Not
surprising, since Lydia
had always been known in their family as the quiet one.
“The
same,” he said. “And the Kilborn clansmen have intermarried for
generations. Animals.” He tugged at his tight cravat. Out of uniform, dressed
as a town gentleman, Lydia
thought her cousin lost some of his edge. Scowling, he continued, “By this
marriage we seek to dilute the Kilborn blood and weaken the line.”
“Weaken
the line, sir?” Lydia’s mother, Henrietta, raised a brow. “Do you suggest that
my daughter’s lineage is flawed? Ours is one of the noblest families in the
kingdom.”
“True,”
he said. “By adding Lady Lydia’s
noble blood to the Kilborn line, we will civilize the wild
Highlanders.”
Lydia
tried to look civilized and noble, but couldn’t stop twisting the handkerchief
in her lap. She rubbed its black edging, a reminder of her status as a widow.
“You want me to marry an animal. A barely civilized wild man.”
“The
Crown would take your selflessness as a particular favor,” her cousin said.
She
lifted her brows. “Indeed.” As a general’s daughter, duty pulled at her blood.
“‘Tis a
perfect solution. ‘Tis easier to pacify by marriage than by the
sword. All parties will benefit.” His glance strayed to the bodice of Lydia’s gown.
In half-mourning, she wore gray muslin trimmed with black piping. “You must
desire children. The Highlander is doubtless, uh, lusty.”
She
pursed her lips. She’d loved William, but hadn’t grasped why others made such a
fuss about marital relations. But she did want children and had planned to have
several. “You want me to marry a warrior who may have killed my husband at Culloden Moor,” she said. “I can’t do that.”
Colonel
Swann remained silent but looked uneasy as Lydia’s mother crossed the room.
“Your late husband,” Henrietta said and sat on an ottoman next
to Lydia.
When
her mother took Lydia’s
hand, she couldn’t control the trembling. At eighteen, she knew she simply
wasn’t brave.
Unlike
her mother, who now peered into Lydia’s eyes. “Child,
what else will you do? Of course, as a widow, you can refuse. But another
marriage may make you happy.”
“Do
I have to marry a wild Scotsman? Leave my country and everything I know?”
“Of
course not. But you are already acquainted with all the other eligible males of
our class, and chose William over all.”
“That’s
so.” Lydia remembered her
days of attending parties and balls in London
a scant three years ago. She sighed.
“You’ll
bring great wealth,” the colonel said. “And by your
marriage, Kilborn will be spared the pacification efforts that other
clans and chieftains suffer. You’ll be valued and honored.”
“I
have my portion and William’s, but I am not particularly wealthy,” Lydia said.
“Not
by London standards, but for an impoverished Highland chieftain, you are a rich prize.”
“Lovely.” Lydia stood
and walked to the window, her voluminous skirts rustling.
Below
in the garden, she could see her brother playing with one of his sons. She
watched George pick up Andrew, toss the giggling child into the air and catch
him before they collapsed in a laughing heap together on the sunlit lawn.
Her
heart tripped. She might never see George and Andrew again. But she might
become that happy parent, could have babies of her own to enjoy.
She
turned to face her mother. “I’ll do it.”
Kieran,
Laird Kilborn, strode along the upper wall-walk of his castle, his mood as
dark as the midnight sky above. Below him, the sea crashed with the
threat of a storm. His retainers scattered at the sight of their new laird’s
frown, for Kieran was known to show his temper. His own father had borne a scar
on his forehead from a tankard a young Kieran had thrown when the princeling
had been but four.
Kieran
pinched the bridge of his nose, staring out over
Clan Kilborn’s crofts and lands, lit only by moonlight. His lands,
now, following the deaths of his father and older brother at Culloden. An
unexpected burden—his lands and his responsibility.
“Ye
could look forever, but nothing will change.” Euan’s soft voice
intruded upon Kieran’s dangerous mood. “That is, nothing will change unless ye
marry the Sassenach lassie.”
Kieran
turned, remembering to soften his frown. No one else would dare to disturb his
thoughts, but Euan was different. The castle’s steward, he’d been old
when Kier was born.
“Aye,
the reprisals are cruel.” Kieran rubbed his hand over the sturdy stone
battlement.
“They
will only get worse. The Sassenachs are determined to break all of the Highlands and to destroy the clans who supported the
bonny prince. ‘Tis a stroke of luck that the Swan wants you to wed
the lassie.”
“Why,
though? What’s the benefit to the Sassenach colonel?”
The
smaller man shrugged. “We are a remote holding. ‘Tis easier to pacify
us by marriage than by war, and far less costly.”
“I’ll
never give up tartan or sword.” A thin, chilly breeze lifted Kieran’s dark hair
off his shoulders. He drew his plaid, vividly patterned in red, yellow and two
shades of blue, more tightly around him.
“Wed
the Swan’s cousin and ye willnae have to.”
“I
had not thought to wed yet, with everything so…unsettled.”
“Truly?
There’s a certain lassie who’s set her cap for ye.”
“Grizel?”
“Er,
I was thinking of Moira.”
“Oh,
that one.” Kieran dismissed Moira with a wave of his hand. “She must know that
Culloden changed everything, including her expectations.”
“Ye
must secure the succession.” Euan’s dark, haunted eyes searched
Kieran’s face. “I promised your father that I would see to it.”
“And
would he have wanted me to marry outside our blood?” Kieran asked. His
grand-uncle Euan knew more of the secrets of his family than did
Kieran himself.
“Possibly
not.” Euan looked troubled. “But marriage to the Sassenach lady will
provide money, safety and heirs.”
“And
what shall I do when the dark thirst takes me? Succor myself at my lady’s
throat?”
“There
are other ways.” Euan’s eyes were hooded and unreadable in the
moonlight. “Other women—”
“No! ‘Tis like
unfaithfulness. What of my honor?”
“There
is no honor when the dark curse seizes us.”
“I
must find a way, for the clan.”
“Then ye’ll marry
the Sassenach wench?”
“‘Tisn’t so
simple. The laird’s consort isnae merely a juicy quim or a fertile
ewe. She must be more.”
Euan shrugged.
“She’s a widow, managed her own household.”
“Hmm.”
Kieran took a deep breath of the midnight air, scented with the tang
of the nearby sea and the crofters’ hay. “Aye then, I’ll do it.”
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About the author:
Wow! I'd get scared at Berserkers...yikes. I'm definitely intrigued!
ReplyDeleteMe too, Sue!
ReplyDeleteThanks for hosting me, Cat, and very happy you both find the premise intriguing.
ReplyDeleteThank you for being my guest, Suz!
ReplyDeleteI like the dialog. Sounds fun.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sheila!
ReplyDelete