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Informationen zum Autor Jen Holling is the RITA Award-nominated author of several romance novels, including My Shadow Warrior , My Devilish Scotsman , My Wicked Highlander , and the critically acclaimed Brides of the Bloodstone trilogy. She lives in Texas. Klappentext To end a fierce border war, a marriage is decreed between Robert Maxwell, the bold new leader of a Scottish clan, and Caroline Graham, a proud member of the English family that has clashed with Maxwell's kin for generations. But while an uneasy peace takes hold, a furious passion flares between husband and wife -- a battle of wills sparked by heated kisses and tempting caresses.... Chapter One Graham Keep, West March, England, 1542 sixty years later.... Sisters. As women, they should be compliant, deferring to their fathers and husbands. Should they lack both, then their brothers shall guide them and care for them. They should be grateful for his loving and kind protection; for the great pains he took in administering their future. Unfortunately for Ridley Graham he was not blessed with such paragons of sisters. Ungrateful, devious, argumentative, surly...well, one of them was surly; these were all words that described his sisters, but never compliant or appreciative. Ridley paused outside the door to his sisters' bedchamber. He smoothed the fine whiskers of his beard thoughtfully, then adjusted the small starched ruff at his neck. It was nearly noon and he'd seen neither of his sisters nor his stepmother today. They were apparently closeted up together in their chambers, plotting against him. This avoidance did not bode well for what was to come. It was their father's fault, Ridley knew. After Ridley's birth, Mother had suffered a succession of miscarriages. When finally she began birthing live babies again Father had come to view children differently. He loved and coddled his next three children. Never did they suffer the lash as Ridley had; never were they forced to bear Father's mockery or derision. And this was the result. Spoiled and petulant, believing they had some say in their future. Ridley knocked briefly and entered before being granted admittance. He paused again just inside the door to examine the scene before him. Fayth, Ridley's youngest sister, slouched in a chair near the fire. The light from the fire picked out the reddish strands in her hair, making it appear auburn rather than the drab brown it was. She looked more like a beardless lad in a kirtle than a lass overripe for marriage. Fayth's head swiveled around, her dark eyes narrowing on Ridley before turning dismissively back to contemplate the flames. Ridley's lips tightened. She'd not always been this bitter and unpleasant. When Father was dying she'd leeched onto some ruffian, claiming to love him -- but Ridley knew she was scrambling to find a man of her choosing before Father died. Unfortunately -- for her, that is -- her paramour had been murdered in a raid. She knew the fate Ridley had planned for her and fought against it. Insufferable little bitch. He would beat that defiance out of her spine if necessary. But not now. He turned, facing the other occupants of the room. Two women and a man. "Father," Ridley murmured, bowing his head to Caroline's priest, Father Jasper Graham -- a distant cousin on their father's side. The tall, thin man approached Ridley, hands tucked into the sleeves of his fine green robes. "This is not what Lord Graham wanted -- you know this." Father Jasper's head was long and thin like his body, the cheeks hollowed. His large eyes were haunted, as if he found no solace in God's calling. "News travels fast. I only just left the messenger from Lord Annan." Ridley shot a hard look at his young stepmother, Mona, a small woman of dark, inscrutable beauty. Her black eyes held his, condemning. Then she put her bac...
