It's week four at our Medieval Blog Hop, and the excerpt today is from Lane McFarland's book, Lindsey.

EXCERPT FOUR
 
The enemy soldiers straightened, their attention focused on her. A burly guard advanced, his dark eyes narrowing. “Who the hell are you? Where’s Cora?”
Another man circled her. He stroked her mud-crusted hair, then squeezed the padding on her bottom. She inwardly flinched and moved out of his reach. Dirty cur.
“Och, the old healer be feelin’ poorly,” Lindsey answered. “I’m ‘ere to fix up the master’s prisoners fer ‘er. Hear tell they be taking them to stand trial, and Master Collins wants ‘em looking guid, their injuries healed.”
She faced the groping man and offered her basket to him while struggling with the overwhelming urge to slam it into his filthy face.
 
Follow along next week by checking out Laurel O’Donnell's blog with excerpt #5 http://www.laurel-odonnell.com/blog.html

Blurb:
The Daughters of Alastair MacDougall Series
Set in late thirteenth century Scotland, this series tells the stories of Laird Alastair MacDougall’s four independent and oftentimes, headstrong daughters coming of age in a country fraught with war and feuds amongst rival clans. Follow his daughters as their lives become intertwined with four fierce, rebel highland warriors bent on eradicating the English soldiers from their homeland.
Lindsey
Who said life was fair? Certainly not Lindsey MacDougall. She rebels at a world dominated by men. Dressed in lad’s clothing, she manages her father’s stables, caring for, breeding and selling horses. Unwavering on performing her duty to the rebellion, Lindsey throws caution to the wind and secretly delivers missives behind enemy lines to the Scottish warriors.
Logan Ross uses his happy-go-lucky smile to warm the hearts of many willing lasses, but it also masks his pain—the pain of his birth. As a bastard son, he is unacceptable for any Laird’s daughter, including the spirited Lindsey MacDougall. However, she haunts his dreams. Determined to prove his worth, he throws himself into the middle of the rebellion, leading men into mortal danger.
After helping Logan escape from a brutal English dungeon, Lindsey fights her traitorous attraction to the virile highland warrior, vowing never to lose her heart to any man.
 
BUY LINKS: AMAZON

Enjoy the breathtaking scenery in Lane McFarland's book, Elsbeth.

Elsbeth
Excerpt:
Exhausted from a sleepless night spent on the unforgiving ground, Elsbeth curled on her side with Mum’s little wooden cross clutched in her hand. She stared at the campfire’s dying embers glowing through charred wood and ash. It would be light soon, and the group would continue their journey to Stonecrest.
Conflicting emotions churned her stomach like turbulent tides. Her heart fluttered at the memory of riding with Brandon but squeezed when she recalled his violent nature. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure Fabien’s image, his light hair and smiling face. But Brandon’s dark eyes and boyish grin emerged before her.
Wishing to get the man out of her head, she rose and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. Bea slept beside the orphans, and Brandon’s men lay clustered in the small clearing. Elsbeth tiptoed from camp and strolled along a narrow dirt path, winding through trees and down to the loch. Brisk air blew off the water, and chill bumps peppered her skin. She rubbed her arms and tugged the blanket tighter about her neck.
Dawn bathed the awakening forest in golden hues, and fog wafted off the tranquil loch. A black-throated diver floated across the pond. The industrious bird disappeared beneath the surface, leaving nothing but ripples in its place. As she’d done so many times beside Da’s loch, Elsbeth studied the calm water and tried to guess where the creature would re-appear. Moments passed. Not even an air-bubble crested. Without so much as a splash, the creature bobbed to the top with a wiggling fish in its black bill.
Wistful memories of playing with her sisters while Mum and Da rested beneath a shade tree surfaced. Three long years had passed since she’d last seen her family. She was homesick and longed for those precious, carefree days.
The sun stretched, sending its warming rays through an arbor of branches and leaves. Brushing aside her melancholy, Elsbeth continued along the light-dappled trail. A thunderous roar drifted on the wind, and she hurried downhill to view the water cascading over a stone ledge. Mist off the noisy flow dotted her face, and a rainbow of blue, red, and yellow arched from one side of the falls to the other.
She hiked her skirt, hopped to a flat stone, then another, and landed on a grey boulder positioned before the falls. Stretching her legs, she settled in to enjoy the stunning view.
A torrent poured over the shelf’s edge into a deep pool. Spray wafted from the churning white water, sprinkling lush vegetation bordering a trail that snaked alongside the basin and disappeared behind the falls. Her gaze traveled across the deluge to the far side. Pleased to see the trail continued, she wondered what creatures stole behind the wall of water.
Her mind wandered back to Brandon McLeod. It aggravated her that he affected her so. She must keep her distance, but accomplishing such a feat while traveling with him would not be easy. Once Da arrived, she would leave the commander’s care and return home with the orphans. Until then, she would endeavor to stay away from the man.
Sadness washed over her and seeped into her heart. By all accounts, the plan should give her a sense of resolution, but the thought of leaving Brandon caused lonesome emptiness.
Something burst through the falls and dove into the deep pool.
Elsbeth gasped. She drew her legs beneath her bottom, poised to sprint. Her heart raced, and her gaze darted across the rippling water.
A man emerged.
Brandon.
Her breath caught at the sight of his broad shoulders and chiseled muscles. Black hair covered his sculpted chest and abdomen. He shook his head and droplets sluiced along his bronzed skin.
She swallowed, and her interest roamed lower, but the water’s shadowed darkness concealed his…other attributes.
He ran a hand through his wet hair as he waded in the basin.
She couldn’t look away. Curiosity and more than a twinge of disappointment piqued. Her eyes strained, and she craned her neck to have a better angle.
He raised his head, and his eyes locked on hers.
Heavens! He’d caught her admiring him. What the devil was wrong with her?
His boyish grin returned. “Good morn, Sister.”
 
Blurb:
Elsbeth MacDougall recoils at the violent Scottish rebellion and the bleak plight of orphans. Vowing to protect the homeless, she embarks on a journey to Scone and sets her course to become a nun, sheltering children from the cruelties of war. But when Brandon McLeod arrives at the Abby, he shakes her convictions and stirs provoking emotions she buried long ago.
After English soldiers murder his family, Brandon McLeod determines a course of revenge and leads numerous clans in Scotland’s fight for freedom. Bent on the annihilation of English oppression, he is resolved to a life of solitude, vowing never to marry and chance the pain of losing loved ones again. However, that was before he met the enchanting Elsbeth.
 
Buy Link: Amazon
 

This week's excerpt for our Medieval Monday 'Conflict' theme is from Lane McFarland's book, Lindsey, The Daughters of Alastair MacDougall: Book III

What will Lindsey find when she steps from the sunshine into the darkest pits of hell?

Excerpt:
The beefy guard waved his torch toward the back of the room. “Them’s the beggars goin’ to trial.”
Twisted shapes of four men, their wrists shackled to the wall and their feet barely touching the floor, came into sight. Lindsey’s chest tightened as if bands squeezed the life from her. “They’ll have to be cut down, sweets. They cannae eat or git fixed up hanging on the wall.”
The man swung his head toward her. His lip curled.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she trembled with rage. She wanted to pounce on him, grab his blade, and sink it into his gut. Straining to gain composure, she turned her back on the men and set her basket on the floor. Her hand trembled as she inhaled the putrid air and struggled to calm her nerves. She must maintain her heartless pretense, appear untouched by the savagery. Biting the side of her lip, she rummaged through the jars and extracted the healing salves.
Chains rattled behind her. Thumps of dead weight and groans indicated the guard had freed the men. As he marched from the cell, he cast a look at Lindsey and slammed the door. The lock clunked, and his booted footsteps grew quieter as he strode away.
Several men rushed from the huddled group to aid their fallen companions. Lindsey hurried to the first man and knelt beside him. She pushed his hair to the side and grimaced.
Logan.
Cora’s little bandits were correct.
His swollen face was blackened, and blood caked the back of his head. “Logan, can ye hear me? It’s Lindsey.”
His eyes fluttered. Moans of the injured men wafted around her. She jerked the basket to her side and brought out a flask of water, a soft cloth, and a jar of salve. “Look in my basket for more water skins,” she called over her shoulder to the other prisoners.
Logan’s friends, Adam, Thom, and Colyne lay unmoving. Dark dried blood and dirt smeared the men’s swollen, beaten faces. Their listless bodies attested to abuse and neglect.
“The commander takes delight in torturing them.”
Lindsey’s head snapped to the man who stooped beside her.
“Seems to hold a real interest in them.” He grabbed her basket and passed out containers to several others. They crowded around, snatching the bandages, salves, and potions she’d brought.
“Why?” she whispered. “What’s so special about them?”
The man squinted and indicated Logan with his head. “Collins couldn’t break him. I think that about drove the commander over the brink. He wanted to deliver information on the rebels’ stronghold to the king. Infuriated him that he failed to do so.”
The man bent over Adam and helped him sit.
While supporting Logan’s head, Lindsey held a flask to his parched, cracked lips and dribbled the liquid into his mouth. He sputtered, gulping at the water.
“Easy,” she said, giving him sips while she studied his disfigured face. “I’m here to help ye.”
One eye was swollen shut, the other barely open. His brown hair hung in filthy strands across his forehead, and a red irritated gash crossed his grimy cheek. She sat on the nasty hard floor and cradled his head in her lap. The medicinal salves would do little to heal him, but she had to try.
Her heart clenched. When she’d last seen him, the days spent with the fear of English hostilities and devastation as constant companions had not yet arrived. The soldiers had not yet destroyed her carefree way of life. They had not been concerned with the next raid or protecting the clan from enemy invasion. Instead, Lindsey and Logan enjoyed each other’s company, held the same love for horses, and had become fast friends.
He groaned. “Lindsey?”
“Aye, it’s me.” Her voice caught as she answered.
His good eye narrowed, and he grasped her wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so battered. “What the hell are ye doing here? This is no place for ye, lass.”
“The Sassenachs are taking ye and yer men to the east coast in two days.” She spoke softly to him while dabbing his grimy forehead and bearded cheeks. “Yer caravan will not make it to the ship. Have faith. Stay strong. I have a plan.”

Blurb:
Lindsey
Who said life was fair? Certainly not Lindsey MacDougall. She rebels at a world dominated by men. Dressed in lad’s clothing, she manages her father’s stables, caring for, breeding and selling horses. Unwavering on performing her duty to the rebellion, Lindsey throws caution to the wind and secretly delivers missives behind enemy lines to the Scottish warriors.
Logan Ross uses his happy-go-lucky smile to warm the hearts of many willing lasses, but it also masks his pain—the pain of his birth. As a bastard son, he is unacceptable for any Laird’s daughter, including the spirited Lindsey MacDougall. However, she haunts his dreams. Determined to prove his worth, he throws himself into the middle of the rebellion, leading men into mortal danger.
After helping Logan escape from a brutal English dungeon, Lindsey fights her traitorous attraction to the virile highland warrior, vowing never to lose her heart to any man.
  
Buy Link:
 
Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/j98zrvd
 

I'm thrilled to have an excerpt from Lane McFarland's book, Heather, on my Medieval Monday blog today!

EXCERPT:
Heather.
Alec’s chest constricted. How long had it been since he last saw her? Three years? Would she remember him? Would she remember his kiss?
The maid rubbed her mistress’ cheek, and Heather wiped the same spot with a cloth. When the servant nodded, Heather hurried toward him.
Did she stuff a black scarf in her sleeve? His eyes narrowed.
“Laird Campbell, welcome to MacDougall Castle.” She extended a hand. “Yer timing could not have been better.”
“Mistress MacDougall.” He bent and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Calluses covered her once soft palm. He straightened and studied her blue eyes. “Why so formal?”
“It’s been years since we last met. I’m afraid that young lass ye knew grew up.”
The gorgeous azure depths of her eyes mesmerized him. “Aye, she grew into a beautiful woman.”
A flush spread over her cheeks and she withdrew her hand. “I understand we’ve ye to thank for our lives.”
“One of yer da’s men—a young lad—is who ye should thank. He saved Laird MacDougall from certain death.”
Something akin to caution flittered across her eyes. Had he not been watching closely, he would’ve missed it.
She crossed her arms over her waist. “My da’s fortunate to have many good men defending the castle.” Her eyes widened, and she reached out. “Ye’re hurt. Forgive me, I didn’t notice.”
Alec caught her hand and rubbed her skin with the pad of his thumb. “’Tis nothing to worry over.”
“If ye’ll permit me, I’ll tend ye and yer men so ye can be on yer way. I’m sure ye’re anxious to return home.”
Was she eager to be rid of him?
He hesitated. “We are ready to be home, but we’ll repair yer keep first.”
Her back stiffened. When she smiled, it didn’t quite reach her lovely eyes. “Thank ye. If ye will excuse me, I need to see to Da.”
“I understand.”
Heather slipped past him. Her hips swayed as she stepped around a lass carrying blankets and hurried through the hall to her father.
Alec exhaled and raked a hand through his hair. He was needed out-of-doors. Rubbing the stinging cut on his chest, he marched past the injured. As he strode down the grey steps and into the bailey, his thoughts turned to the slender lad with the black scarf.
Why did he feel something was amiss? Why was the lad spirited away? And why did Heather make light of his fighting?
                                       * * *
 
BLURB:
Bent on overcoming the belief he’s failed his aging father, Laird Alec Campbell concentrates on proving his worth to his people. He provides for them and leads men into battle, vowing never again to disappoint his clan or lose his heart.
Bound by a promise to her dying mother, Heather MacDougall secretly leads rebel warriors in her quest to keep her clan intact and hold off those who plot to overtake her father’s land. She fights to keep her secrets safe, while resisting the lure of the handsome young laird who challenges her defenses.
They can’t deny their passionate attraction, but can their love survive their secrets?
BUY LINK: Amazon
 

Here's our next 'first kiss' on this week's Medieval Monday, from Lane McFarland's book, Cameron.

BLURB:
Determined to band Scots together against English tyranny, Laird Robert Graham seals a truce with his feuding neighbor, the MacDougalls. But after his brother is nearly killed in a treacherous attack, Graham kidnaps the laird’s daughter in an act of revenge.
Cameron MacDougall has devoted her life to the healing arts. She’s long rebelled against her father’s feuding ways, but when Robert Graham abducts her, she’s finds herself at the center of the dispute between their families. She expects the anger she feels, not the simmering attraction to the powerful warrior, or the love she develops for his clan.
Can she stop further violence between the clans with her escape? Or will she find her surrender leads to a lasting peace and her own heart’s desire?

Excerpt:
Robert gently set Cameron on the ground, and she turned to face him. A bit dazed, she ran trembling fingers down the front of her gown. His hands lingered at her waist, and when he didn’t step back, she looked up to find him smiling.
“I believe ye owe me yer thanks, Mistress Cameron.”
At his mention of her name, she searched his face. “How do ye know me?”
He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling throughout his thick chest. “I make it my business to know all the bonnie lasses in the area.”
The men behind him laughed.
Her stomach tightened. She was no beauty. He obviously mocked her—in front of his men. Prickly heat tingled across her cheeks.
“I’ll catch up to ye,” Robert called over his shoulder.
“Oh, aye. Once ye’ve taken care of business,” one man asserted.
“Important business to be sure,” the other bantered.
The men chuckled as they nudged their mounts, then trotted down the path and out of sight.
Robert’s gaze lingered on her mouth before he raised it to her eyes. “I believe it’s customary to thank someone when they’ve helped ye.”
Cameron cleared her throat. “Aye, I do thank ye.”
He studied her lips again. “I had something more in mind. Ye know ye’d still be stuck in that tree if I hadn’t come along, so ye owe me.”
His warm breath caressed her face. He bent and placed his mouth on hers. His arms pulled her close, his muscular frame molding her body against his. Stubble scratched her skin, and she inhaled his male scent of leather, and aye, of horse.
She should be horrified at his advances. What was she thinking, allowing a Graham to kiss her so…so wickedly and deliciously? She should push him away and demand he step back, but somehow, she loathed the idea. Indeed, she reveled in the feel of his hard body pressed against hers.

​Buy Link: Amazon