Never before have we seen a title that was as delightful to read in different voices and intonations as it was to read an excerpt of! Check out this fantastic sneak peek of Every Time With a Highlander by Gwyn Cready, out now!
Peering from the shade of the massive copper beech on the banks of the sparkling Tweed, Lord Bridgewater’s feast set out on long, low tables under the shade of the nearby elms, Undine looked from guest to guest and lover to lover. She was, they said, a fortune-teller, and it was little challenge to read the thoughts on the faces of those she called her friends at the party—Abby Kerr, chieftess of Clan Kerr, and Abby’s steward, Duncan MacHarg, standing at opposite ends of the makeshift quoits court, hiding their infatuation about as well as a peacock hides its plumage, and soon-to-be shipowner Serafina Innes and her new husband, Gerard, innocently playing whist, though any careful observer could tell by the gleam in their eyes the prize at stake was far from innocent.
Hidden truths and visible lies. The world would be a very dangerous place if one believed in appearance.
“Sherry, ma’am?” the servant asked.
“Thank you. I believe I’ll stay with my ginger water.”
A sleek, tortoiseshell cat stole her way back into the party after being shooed away not once but twice by one of the estate’s fastidious servants. The cat added to her list of crimes by neatly snagging a half-eaten quail from the plate of Bishop Rothwell, the archbishop’s chief catch fart, who was speaking animatedly—and at yawn-inducing length—to those seated on the lawn near him of the plans to replace the draperies at his estate.
The brazen thief made her way, quail in mouth, under several tables to the copper beech, where she gave Undine an impatient look.
“I’m not moving,” Undine said firmly.
The cat stared, undeterred.
“Is there no other place to feast upon that?”