"A bonny read not to be missed!"
Reviewed by Audrey Lawrence
Posted April 24, 2011
Romance Historical
After being kidnapped as a youth, Aidan was now back with
his family in Scotland. They were happy with having him
back, yet Aidan had trouble settling down into life with
Clan MacAlpin. It still seemed so foreign and unreal to
him after being in the Caribbean for so long. The only
thing that seemed real to him was his desire for revenge -
to kill the pirate with the black pearl earring who had so
horribly changed the course of his young life.
When his sister noticed that he had trouble reading and
realized that Aidan had missed out on his education while
captured as a slave, she arranged for her good friend, the
shy spinster Elspeth Farquharson, to tutor him. Elspeth
was a romantic lass, eloquent and flowing out to the winds
in her mind with whispers of love, but farouche in front of
others, especially with Aidan. What a fool she felt
herself to be to think that he could ever be interested in
her!
But as she taught him to read in the flickering
candlelight, their heads as well as their hearts grew
closer together. But, could this love be more than a dream?
Aidan was still driven by his need for revenge and others
had their own desires to keep Elspeth away from him. Would
they be driven apart by the danger lurking in the deep
shadows?
While this wonderful suspenseful romance, set in the 17th
century, can easily be read as a stand alone book, it is a
smashing sequel to Veronica Wolff's Devil's Own,
which focused on the tale of Marjorie and Cormac, his twin
brother. While nicely developing the storyline, the author
has made a very well balanced set with Aidan's personality
being a combination of lost boy sadness at finding his
parents dead and his family changed coupled with his
stubborn cynicism and steel edged manner that kept him
alive. He is counterbalanced by Elspeth's caring and
courageous nature, as she seeks to help those she loves and
is steadfast in her determination to help. I had hoped to
hear more about what happens with Angus and Aidan's sister,
so I hope another sequel is in the future! A bonny read
not to be missed!
SUMMARY
Thirteen years after he was kidnapped and sold into
slavery, Aidan returns to Scotland to find the home he
knew long gone. His mother, a proper education, a chance
at love - gone. All he has now are dreams of vengeance...
Only one woman can restore his tormented heart.
Aidan MacAlpin appreciates the hospitality of his brothers
and sisters, but after surviving hell on earth, he feels
they are more like strangers than kin. They could never
understand his one ambition: to exact bloody revenge on
the bastard who sold him into slavery all those years
ago...
Elspeth Farquharson has already resigned herself to the
life of a spinster when she's hired to tutor dark,
brooding Aidan - a real-life hero more enticing than any
from her adventure books. If only she can convince this
tragic rogue that she's not the nervous, stuttering
bookworm she appears to be. But when Aidan shows her a
clue to his tortured past, she'll be thrust into a
dangerous game of passion and deceptino that will awaken
the sexy heroine within - if it doesn't kill her first...
ExcerptStonehaven, Aberdeenshire, 1660
She wasn’t chilled. Her back didn’t ache. She wasn’t in
a barn, nor was she seated upon a three-legged stool. She
wasn’t in the milking room, and her cheek was most
certainly not nestled deep in the thick, musty wool of a
sheep’s haunch.
No, Elspeth Josephina Farquharson was at a country dance.
Well, not really. But she shut her eyes, dreaming what
one might be like. There would be laughter, big jugs of
ale, girls with broad smiles walking arm in arm. The pipes
would set into a lively reel. She swayed in time.
The door creaked open. The room stilled. Footsteps
sounded. The heavy step was confident, masculine.
It was him. He approached from across the room, his eyes
only for her. He swept her into his arms.
The reel began again, and he pulled her, steady as the
tides, into the middle of the dance fl oor. His breacan
feile wrapped about her legs as he swung her. She gazed up,
easy laughter on her lips, staring into his . . .
Elspeth’s hands froze on the sheep’s teat.
Brown? Emerald green? Gray as a storm-choked sky?
Nay, blue.
She sighed, smiling.
She gazed up, laughter on her lips, at his blue eyes. He
had a smile just for her. It was naughty.
"Elspeth, I say. Are you deaf, girl? That sheep’s wrung
dry."
She sighed again, heavily this time. Her eyes fl uttered
open. It was her father who stood there, not the dream man.
"Now come up to the house," he said. "It’s accounting
time, and you know you’re the one with the head for books."
Elspeth scooted back from the sheep, clapping her hands
clean. "Aye, Father."
Even though the family farm was small, she the only
child, and her mother long dead, her father needed her. And
when he needed her, she always went. How he’d managed
before her was a marvel.
"You know I don’t have a mind for reckoning." He gave a
loving poke to her temple. "Not like my wee Elspeth."
She smiled weakly. The day was coming when she’d need to
sit her father down and have a serious talk. He’d sold five
head of perfectly good cattle to start a woolen business.
Without consulting her. And now she was the one left to
milk the sheep and mind the accounting. But the books told
a grim story, and it grew grimmer by the day.
She worried that they may not even have enough left to
buy back their cattle, if it came to that.
They returned to their two-room cottage, and Elspeth
pulled her chair close to the fire. Candles were dear, and
the hearth was the only spot bright enough for reading.
"You're no lad, but still, how would I survive without
you?"
She looked up, and despite the cut in her father's
words, she found a rare smile on his face. Tenderness
seized her heart. Her parents had been long married before
they’d been blessed with their only child. When her mother
died in childbirth, she’d left her newborn babe ?with a man
old enough to be a grandfather.
Her father waited expectantly for a reply. His frizz of
gray hair erupted up from his head like a halo, or a
misshapen bird’s nest.
No, he couldn’t survive without her. Nor would she want
him to.
"Good thing it shan’t come to that." The words pricked
her, and she forced a smile. She’d spoken the truth: living
without her would never be in question. Any dowry there’d
been in linens and woolen goods had been sold off long ago.
And what coin there’d been for making Elspeth’s plain
features more attractive to a prospective husband had gone
to the beasts instead.
"Here’s your things, then." He pulled her wee worktable
by the fi re. It bore a sheaf of papers and her precious
quill, and the sight of it automatically switched her mind
to the business at hand.
"Thank you," she said, already engrossed in her papers.
She fished out that month’s tally, squinting to focus.
With a tsk, he rose to stoke the fire
higher. "Stubborn lass. I wish you’d allow yourself a
reading glass. I’ve heard talk of a man in Aberdeen who
fashions spectacles. They even have a wee ribbon to hold
them to the head."
She tilted her chin to bring the numbers into focus,
skimming her eyes over the lines. They’d had this argument
before. "You know we haven’t the money."
"But we’ve spent less this month. Or it should read so
in that book of yours." He came and hovered over her, and
she shifted so as not to lose the light.
"Less? How is that possible?" She scanned the rows, and
one number caught her eye. Growing stern, she put her
finger to mark her place. "Da, how is it we have more left
over this month, and yet we're making less than ever?"
She craned her neck to stare a challenge at him. He’d
sold personal items off before, and Elspeth wouldn’t put it
past him to do something foolish like sell off her mother’s
wedding band. She frowned, for it wasn’t as though she’d
ever have call to wear anyone’s ring.
"I’ve begun to trade. With Angus." He paused, letting
the farmer’s name hang.
"Angus." Shaking her head, she looked back down. Her
father dreamed of marrying her off to the man. "Not that
again."
Though Angus Gunn was kind enough, and his neighboring
farm profitable, he didn’t make her swoon like all the
great heroines swooned. And if Elspeth couldn’t have a
great love like those she read about in her novels, then
she’d rather skip the whole enterprise entirely.
Besides, she knew of another woman who’d stolen Angus’s
heart long ago.
Elspeth shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her
nose. "What, pray, have we to trade with Angus?"
"Our sheep’s milk for his oats."
Her eyes flew open. "Raw oats? However will we mill
them?"
"They’re to feed the sheep."
She bit her lips not to speak the first words that came
to her tongue. She’d simply have to talk to Angus herself.
Perhaps arrange to trade for milled oats so they could fill
their bellies instead of just the sheep’s. "Very well,
Father."
There was a knock at the door, and he bolted up, a wide
grin on his face. "Talk of him, and he doth appear."
Elspeth rolled her eyes. When would her father get it
through his thick skull that she neither wanted Angus nor
he her?
The farmer stood in the doorway and gave her father a
stoic nod. He was so tall and so broad, he had to hunch to
fit. "I put the oats by the barn."
He shooed Angus in. "Come in, come in. Say hello to
Elspeth." He swept an arm in her direction. "Doesn’t she
look lovely by the firelight?"
"Oh, Da," she muttered under her breath. Little did he
know that what men likely saw was a shy spinster, with
plain features adorning a too-thin frame.
Spotting Elspeth, Angus slipped his bonnet from his
head, crumpling it in his hands. "Good day, Miss Elspeth."
She put her papers down and gave him a warm smile. She
didn’t have feelings for the farmer—he'd been besotted with
her best friend, after all. But that didn’t mean she didn’t
think him a kind and dependable soul. "Good day, Angus."
An awkward silence filled the room.
"Very good, very good," her father said, looking from
one to the other.
"If that’s all then." Angus turned as if to leave.
Her father shot her a meaningful, wide-eyed look,
nodding encouragement.
Elspeth shrugged. She’d never been good at idle
chatter. "Do bide a wee, Angus. We . . . we’ve just stoked
the fire, and I’m afraid I’ve had enough of numbers this
day."
"Very well." Angus went to the corner to retrieve
another stool.
"What’s the word from town?" her father asked
jovially. "I hear the oldest MacAlpin girl has returned a
widow. Lost her husband to a war wound, or some such." He
looked to Elspeth. "You two were mates. What was the
lassie’s name?"
"Anya?" Was it possible her dearest friend had returned?
Though sadness for Anya’s loss pierced her, Elspeth
couldn’t help but beam. "Anya MacAlpin is back?"
She cut her eyes to Angus, feeling instantly guilty.
He’d not weather the news so well. Long ago, Anya’s sudden
marriage had struck him hard.
Sure enough, he still faced the corner, standing frozen.
She was certain Anya was the reason Angus had never married.
Her smile faded. Would that a man felt half for Elspeth
what that farmer held in his heart for the oldest MacAlpin
sister.
Anya hadn’t wanted the marriage either, but it’d been
forced upon her by her father. Seeing her heartbreak was
what had hardened Elspeth’s resolve so many years ago. The
day she watched Anya carted away in tears, Elspeth decided
either she’d marry for love, or not at all. And now ?to
think her friend was already a widow, while Elspeth seemed
destined to remain forever a maiden.
Her father seemed baffled by the tense silence, and
filled it with mindless chatter. "Quite a year for that
family. Cormac—and what a strange, dour fellow he is, aye?—
he up and marries the prettiest girl. From Aberdeen proper,
she is." He shook his head, marveling. "And now there’s ?a
rumor the brother’s back, too. The twin. You remember the
lad who was stolen? Aidan?"
"None would soon forget that name," Angus replied, his
features once again a stoic mask. He pulled his stool
before the fire.
Elspeth put her hand to her heart. "Young Aidan lives?"
She hadn’t known the MacAlpins when the lad was taken.
But like every other villager on the outskirts of Aberdeen,
she’d heard about the kidnap. Folk said he’d been mistaken
for a poor climbing boy. Everyone had presumed him dead or
worse, indentured to a faraway plantation.
Angus shook his head. "Not so young anymore."
The mysterious Aidan popped into her head, a shadowy,
featureless silhouette. What came of a man after such an
ordeal? And what would he look like? If he’d turned out
half as handsome as his twin Cormac, he’d be handsome
indeed.
"Aye, he’s returned. But the family is keeping a tight
lip about it." Her father leaned in. "He was a slave in the
tropics, I heard. They say he was branded."
"Branded," she gasped. Owned like a common slave. And
yet he’d escaped. And with secrets, no doubt.
She shivered, letting her mind wander. How on earth had
he made his way back to Scotland, sailing all the way from
Jamaica, or Barbados, or Hispaniola? Battling pirates,
almost certainly.
Aidan MacAlpin would be dangerous, swaggering. Just like
one of the heroes in her books. Would he speak a foreign
tongue? Months on the open seas, his skin would be as
smooth and brown as a cowry shell.
The sun beat down overhead. The timber planks were
hot beneath her bare feet. She stood, gazing across the
endless sea. The afternoon was sultry. It loosened her
muscles. She felt heavy with the heat. Wanton.
She sensed him, and turned. He was climbing up the
ladder, his virile form rising from the cabin below. His
sun-kissed skin glowed with the fi ne sheen of exertion,
accentuating his rippling muscles. He called to his
sailors, his voice commanding.
But then he saw her. Their eyes met, and the rest of the
ship fell away. He stalked to her, his very being intent on
one thing and one thing alone. Her.
Elspeth’s breath caught. She put her hands in her lap,
wringing her skirts. She hoped the men blamed the flush in
her cheeks on the heat of the fire.
She pretended to listen to her father, all the while
enjoying the wicked pattering of her heart, as she let
herself imagine.
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