Here
is the full excerpt, with the final snippet at the end!
Back Cover Copy:
After her beloved
father dies, Moira MacDougall becomes chieftain of their small clan. She is
tested on every level, not only by her councilors who question her every move,
but also by an exiled Englishman who raids her village under the guise of a
notorious pirate, Gareth Talbot.
He wants the
secret weapon Moira possesses, and will do anything to get his hands on
it—including committing murder so he can give it to King Henry to prove his
worthiness and be welcomed home.
Moira will follow
her destiny and do whatever is necessary to protect her clan.
The real Gareth
Talbot is through with love. His last romance did not end well. He suffered a
broken heart and doesn’t trust women.
Humiliated, Gareth
goes to sea and becomes a captain for MacAlpin, the pirate king. When raids
along the Scottish coast are blamed on him, he seeks revenge. Nothing less than
death will do.
Moira and Gareth
are on different missions but seek the same goal. Can they work together and
eliminate their greatest enemy, and in the process, find the one thing they
didn’t know they were searching for, true love?
The Pirate’s
Redemption by Ruth A. Casie
The evening breeze
was gentle, the sky clear. Feeling nervous, she marched up the plank.
“I request
permission to board,” she called out, blinded by a lantern held high, unable to
make out anything on deck.
The lantern
lowered. She was caught off guard by her discovery, a bare-chested Gareth
standing in front of her. His hair was wet, and his chest glistened with
droplets of water.
“Permission
granted.” A tankard in one hand, Gareth held out his other to help her aboard.
Moira took his
hand, but she couldn’t take her eyes off his chest. His cough brought her eyes
to his face. Reluctantly, he released her hand. He smiled as he grabbed his
shirt from a peg on the mast and struggled in the breeze to put it on. When he
faced her, she didn’t miss the spark in his eyes. He didn’t appear angry, but
that didn’t matter. She still had to fix what she had done.
Moira licked her
dry lips and settled her shoulders back. Now what?
Gareth cleared his
throat.
“Here. Ta go wi’
yer ale.” She nodded toward the barrels to emphasize her point, then thrust the
basket toward him.
“What did you
bring me?”
“I thought ta
bring you….” She let out a sigh. “A peace offering.”
Gareth took the basket
and coughed again.
“You should speak
ta Fiona. Her elderberry and honey tea would help wi’ that cough,” she said.
He still didn’t
speak.
In the grip of a
silent panic, her heart raced. Surely, she should say something more…
“I understand
ye’re leaving us tomorrow. I was afraid I wouldna see ye. Wi’ so much ta do in
th’ village, there is barely time ta…” A knot in her throat made it difficult
for her to swallow. She didn’t want him to leave. “As clan chieftain, I want ta
give my thanks for all yer help. It hasn’t gone unnoticed by th’ people, or by
me.” The man who stood before her was so strong, had a commanding presence, and
was handsome. That hadn’t gone unnoticed either. “I spoke out of place before
and regret if I offended ye.”
She let out a
frustrated breath and licked her lips. Why didn’t she plan this with more care?
“Please, don’t do
that again,” he said.
She gazed at him,
not sure what he meant.
“Lick your lips,”
he clarified. “They’ll get dry and cracked.”
Her fingers went
to her lips. In a heartbeat, his face changed from cool indifference to tender
concern. Then a playful smirk lightened his features. Her body reacted to the
change that suddenly came over him. The tingling in the pit of her stomach took
her by surprise.
“I’m truly sorry
if I offended ye,” she said.
“You need not say
anymore. We all say or do things we regret.”
“Did you eat?” he
asked as he opened the basket.
She shook her
head.
“Come.” He offered
his hand. “We’re hungry, and there isn’t enough food here for both of us. And
Wesley is waiting for this barrel.”
Gareth put the keg
on his shoulder with ease, and together, they brought it to the gathering on
the village green.
“Ah, Gareth. You
brought my gift. Come everyone. For all your hard work,” Wesley said. “This is
my special brew.” Wesley stood by Gareth. “I’m all the sorrier you’re leaving.
It’s been like old times. I will miss you, my friend.” Wesley slapped him
firmly on his back. “I best go and find a tankard before the barrel is dry.” He
grabbed a vessel from a nearby table. “Save me some ale!” He stepped away and
was lost in the crowd.
“I thought ye were
hungry,” Moira said.
“In truth, I had
to move you off the ship. If you licked your lips again, I’d never let you
leave.” Gareth bent down and kissed her softly.
Her heart nearly
burst. She put her hands on either side of his face, pulled him closer, and
kissed him back.
“If ye kept yer
shirt off, ye wouldna have been able ta make me leave.” She clamped her hands
over her mouth. She was the chieftain of Clan MacDougall.
A look of surprise
spread across his face. Moira wondered why, until Gareth threw back his head
and burst into laughter.
“You bear the
weight of the clan on your shoulders. I, on the other hand, bear the weight of
a barrel of ale on mine. Let’s join the others.” He took her hand and led her
along.
His hands were
gentler than she had hoped, and his kiss, more powerful than she had ever
imagined.
They ate and
laughed with the others until every belly was full and satisfied. The meal over,
everyone gathered around the pile of wood in the middle of the green, eager for
the bonfire to begin. Wilem began to play his lyre. One of the sailors took out
a flute, another a drum. Moira and Gareth found a place to sit and made
themselves comfortable.
Tonight, she
didn’t want to be their chieftain, only a villager, or a pirate’s wench. From
their perch, they gazed at the sea and were lost in the sound of the breaking
waves on the shore. Gareth draped his arm around Moira’s shoulders and grinned.
“I love the colors
at sunset,” Moira said.
He pulled her
closer, and she shivered. Gareth tilted his face toward her.
“Are you cold?”
She glanced at
him. His question was a small thing, but the concern made her heart flutter.
“No’ at all,” she
said, pulling her gaze away, afraid he would see something she was not ready to
admit.
He cleared his
throat.
She struggled to
keep from smiling at his signal. Gareth had shoulders wide enough to bear the
weight of the world. Although he would never admit it, he had a habit of
coughing when in awkward situations.
He squeezed her
arm and returned his attention to the sun while it slipped lower in the sky.
The red sky darkened until the heavens were velvety black.
For the moment,
they only saw each other.
She stared
overhead at the hundreds of stars above. The beauty never escaped her, and the
vastness humbled her. She let out a deep sigh, her body close to Gareth’s. The
strain of the last week faded with the sun. Contentment floated on the air,
helped along by Wesley’s ale and music.
“Are ye humming?”
Moira asked.
Gareth glanced at
her. Her heart jolted at the devilish look in his eyes.
“Has my voice
offended you, milady?” He pulled his head back. “I’ve been told I have a good
voice.”
“No, ye dinna
offend me. I was trying ta determine which angel was singing.”
He gaped at her.
Finally, he laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.
“Angel? No one has
called me that since I was a small lad.” Another chuckle escaped his lips. “If
you think me an angel, it is a dark one.”
Moira couldn’t
help but laugh with him.
“Angel…” he
whispered. Gareth stared at her while his finger traced her lips. Then his arm
snaked around her back and drew her closer. His lips brushed against hers as he
spoke. “From your lips, let it be so.”
She didn’t resist
but gave herself freely to his kiss. His hand ran up her arm, the tenderness of
his touch made her powerless to refuse him.. He broke the kiss and then rested
his forehead against hers.
Entranced by the
tenderness between them, Moira longed for more. She wanted to know what it felt
like to be wanted by a man, happy, secure…
A soft moan
escaped Gareth’s lips.
A deep sensual
sound stoked a gentle growing fire that steadily grew. In the darkness, she
ventured to stare at him openly. There was strength and tenderness in the way
he carried himself. Pride and something else she struggled to name. He was a
man who know who and what he was. He glanced at her with that devilish grin
that made her melt.
Flashes of light
from the torches the villagers carried onto the green intruded into their small
world, the magic of the moment died as quickly as it began. They watched in
silence as the wood was set ablaze.
He gently planted
a kiss on her head.
The soft music
turned lively. The children were the first to dance, but soon everyone was on
their feet, the good ale and food all the encouragement they needed.
“My men play the
Carole. Dance with me,” Gareth said.
She nodded, and he
helped her up.
The circle dance
was a favorite of hers, and the bonfire made a perfect centerpiece.
He led her to the
circle where he broke in, and they held the hands of the people next to them.
“Who will sing?”
Wilem called out.
“Gareth,” answered
the crew.
Everyone turned
toward them.
“So ye no’ only
hum like an angel, ye also sing like one, too.” She laughed without missing a
step of the dance.
He sang the
sailors’ version of a fast-paced ballad, and he coughed when he came to the
bawdy words. Someone called out the missing word, sending everyone laughing.
After two songs, Gareth and Moira excused themselves.
He handed her an
ale from a passing server as they walked away from the crowd.
“You’re more
beautiful when you smile,” he said. He peered at her over the rim of his
tankard.
A hot flush crept
up her neck, and she licked her lips.
Gareth removed the
ale from her hands and put both their tankards down.
She didn’t know
what to say. What was he going to do?
He took her hand
and pulled her along beside him.
“Where are we
going?” she asked. They walked deeper into the darkness and turned the corner
of a burned-out cottage.
“Anywhere to be
alone.”
She leaned against
the building, waiting for his next move, imagining another, more passionate
kiss. He held her in place with his eyes. Gareth braced his hand on the wall beside
her, then leaned forward.
She could smell
the ale on his breath.
“You must stop
licking your lips. You make me want to…” He brushed a stray hair away from her
face. “Do this.”
Gareth cupped her
face between his hands. Her heart pounded as he tilted his head and captured
her lips, softly at first, but then the kiss turned fierce.
Wave after wave of
desire pulled at her until all she could do was ride it to its full height. She
waited, yearned for it to come crashing down. A moment of panic filled her mind,
then disappeared as the wave crashed against the shore in a rush of heat.
He lifted his head
and stared into her eyes. How he took her breath away.
“Beautiful,” he
whispered. She laid her head on his chest, and he held her close.
Her lips were
still warm from his kiss, and her head filled with music, Gareth’s music. He
hummed to her as he stroked her back.
If only she could
be a pirate’s wench forever.
