To Weave a Highland Tapestry
A Tale from the Order of the Dragon Knights
by Mary Morgan
Genre: Time Travel/Scottish Medieval/Paranormal Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc
Publication Date: December 9, 2019
Patrick MacFhearguis, hardened by battles won and lost, desires what he can never have—peace within his heart and soul. Yet, the ever-meddling Fae weave a new journey for him to conquer—a task this Highlander is determined to resist.
When skilled weaver, Gwen Hywel, is commissioned to create a tapestry for the MacFhearguis clan she embraces the assignment. While seeking out ideas, she finds herself clutching the one thread that can alter the tapestry of her heart and life.
A man conflicted by past deeds. A woman with no family of her own. Is it possible for love to unravel an ancient past in order to claim two badly scarred hearts? Or will the light of hope be doused forever?
Excerpt #1
“Where is the pain?”
“It’s tolerable.” She refused to appear weak, returning the same remark
he had shared with her earlier.
Patrick reached for her hand. His
warmth and strength seeped through her skin. “Place both your hands against the
bark with your feet some distance apart.”
“And why am I doing this?”
The beginning of a smile tipped the
corners of his mouth. “Trust me, lass. Ye are in pain from riding stiffly for
many hours.”
For reasons she couldn’t fathom,
Gwen had faith in the man. Removing her hand from his, she did as he
instructed.
His presence loomed from behind her.
“If ye will permit me, I shall roll my knuckles along your back.”
Heat flared instantly up her neck,
but Gwen nodded, giving him permission.
When the first contact of his fist
swept across her back, Gwen let out a moan. Pain and pleasure fought for
dominance. She closed her eyes against the sensation of his healing and
seductive touch, allowing her body to ease from its rigid position.
“Let your limbs relax,” he urged.
“Feels so good,” she mumbled.
He splayed his fingers and massaged
the knots along the column of her neck. Delicious pinpricks trickled down her
back, along with the melting snow on her head. Gwen knew she presented a
wretched sight, but she gave no care. His fingers caressed the top of her
spine, and wove their way down to both shoulders. By the time he finished, her
body was on fire with another type of ache, but her muscles had loosened up.
There was no denying the man ignited a spark within her.
Gwen turned around slowly.
He placed his hand above her on the
tree, trapping her against the rough bark with his body. Lowering his head near
her ear, he whispered. “Better?”
The word had her breathing rapidly.
Gwen did the unthinkable and pressed her cheek against him—his beard grazing
her face. “Yes.”
“Good,” he breathed the word against
her skin and withdrew.
He held her captive with the
intensity of his gaze—compelling and magnetic. She had contained her inner
woman within a cocoon for so long she yearned to be set free. If this was a
distorted nightmare, she was determined to leave it on a positive experience.
When neither made a move to part,
the butterfly emerged. Gwen lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. His eyes
darkened as he turned his face into her palm, pressing his warm lips against
her skin. A new and unexpected heat rushed inside her, and she gasped with the
pleasure.
Patrick took a step back, breaking
their connection. A slash of wind slapped across her face, cooling the heat of
their encounter.
Excerpt #2
Gwen approached quietly by his side.
“Pity. It was a great throw.”
“Aye,” he acknowledged softly. “One
of my best. My brother, Adam was a champion at this game. I should have studied
him more.”
“Interesting,” she mused.
Straightening, Patrick started
forward. “I can help ye pick more mushrooms. Are they for the Midwinter feast?”
“Yes. Apparently, they’re for an
onion and cabbage dish. Sounds delicious. I’m amazed at how all the women have
managed here in this time-period.”
“I had heard it was a struggle in
the beginning for them.” He glimpsed sideways at her. “How do ye find being
here? I cannot fathom what ye must miss.”
She shrugged. “There’s simplicity
here. I’d almost call it serenity. I’ve learned a lot this past month. Whereas,
in my town you can go crazy trying to keep up with everything.” Gwen waved a
hand outward. “And don’t get me started on city life. Traffic congestion,
speedy drivers, people always on their cell—” She giggled. “Sorry. Too
confusing for you.”
Patrick smiled, trying to perceive
everything the lass was saying. Each time she spoke, her face would light up.
There was a musical lilt to her voice that soothed him. He found her enchanting,
regardless of the words spewing forth from her.
Noting a group of mushrooms, he
moved away from Gwen.
“Since you have lost, what about my end of the bargain? I believe I can
claim something of value.”
Patrick froze in his steps. Glancing
over his shoulder, he stared at her in disbelief. “Ye wish to claim a reward?”
Hope soared within his heart as if the sun’s rays stoked the emotion.
Her tongue darted along her lower
lip. “Absolutely.”
He turned slowly around. “Name your
reward.” Tension coiled within his muscles.
She approached him in an unhurried
fashion. “You might have requested one kiss as your reward, but I’ll take four—the same number of times you
skipped the stone over the water.”
His heart hammered against his
chest. His mind refused to understand the magnitude of her words. “Four?” he uttered in a hoarse voice.
“Four,” she affirmed, stepping
closer. “Do not keep me waiting.”
In one swift move, Patrick crushed
her to his chest. Her soft curves were warm against his body. “Start counting, leannán.”
She never had a chance to respond as
he hungrily covered her mouth with his lips.
Excerpt
#3
His eyes smoldered like fire. “Will
ye heal me with a kiss?”
Her breathing became labored. “We’ve
only just met. I don’t kiss strangers.”
Slowly, he brought her fingers to
his lips, kissing each one. “I have told ye my name. What more do ye wish to
ken?”
Gwen chuckled low. “I don’t even
know your surname.”
Bringing her wrist to his mouth, he
nipped along the vein, sending shards of pleasure up her arm and down her back.
“MacFhearguis. Patrick MacFhearguis.”
Gwen swore her heart stopped
beating. Lights danced in a tempest around her. “No,” she whispered.
He arched a dark brow. “Aye. ’Tis my
name, lass.”
This time, Gwen yanked with all her
might and was rewarded when he released his hold on her. All the pieces of her
jumbled puzzle of insanity slipped into place with clarity. Her mind screamed
at the impossibility. She refused to submit to the conclusion. He must be a
different Patrick MacFhearguis. However, the further she fought the
realization, the more everything became crystal clear.
Gwen required proof.
She fought to steady her nerves and
clutched her hands to her chest. “What is the year?”
Patrick’s brow creased. “Are ye
troubled, Gwen?”
“The year!” she demanded, pounding
her fist into the palm of her hand.
A flicker of uncertainty reflected
in his eyes. “Twelve hundred and nine.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled up
inside her, and she squashed its release immediately. “How in the hell did I
end up here?”
Excerpt #4
“Are ye not overly fond of the
bread?”
Gwen blinked and returned her
attention to the man. “Excuse me?”
Patrick pointed to the spot in
front of her on the table.
Glancing down, she was horrified
to find she’d shredded the bread into tiny bits. “The bread is good. I have too
much on my mind.” She scooped up the remnants of the bread and tossed them on
the trencher.
He leaned his forearms onto the
table. “We can have our conversation now, if ye wish.”
Gwen stood. “No. We made a bargain
for after your fever lessens. To bed, MacFhearguis.”
A mischievous look came into his
eyes as he stood. “I like how ye order me to my bed, lass.”
Chuckling softly, she folded her
arms over her chest. I’m not going to
continue with this flirtatious bantering. “I’m waiting.”
He approached her. “For what, pray
tell.”
“I’m not playing this game.” She
tried to hide the mirth from her features. Instead, she grabbed his hand and
pulled him toward the bed.
“I do love a good game,” he
declared in a husky voice.
Releasing her hold, she pointed
once again to the bed. When Patrick lowered his head toward her face, Gwen
shoved against his chest, causing him to tumble ack onto the furs. “Rest.”
“Ye could have injured my arm,” he
protested.
She fisted her hands on her hips.
“A brawn warrior like yourself? Nah. If you can endure the harsh outdoors,
climbing the stairs, and attempts at stealing kisses from me, then a tumble on
the furs would not do you any harm.”
Patrick’s expression went from
humor to compelling and magnetic. He swept a glance down over her body as if he
had removed her clothing. Gwen’s breathing hitched, and heat blossomed in
places she’d never thought to experience again.
His hand stroked the furs in
invitation. “One kiss for healing?”
Her mind screamed to leave and deny
Patrick his wish. Her body hastily overrode the demand.
With slow steps, Gwen approached
the bed. Leaning forward, she cupped his face. “I shall give the warrior one
kiss.”
When the first brush of his mouth
touched hers, a prickling of pleasure caressed her entire body. She only meant
to give him a chaste peck on the lips, but the man placed his hand on the back
of her head and deepened the kiss. As his tongue sought entry into her mouth,
Gwen let out a groan and dropped her hands onto his massive thighs. She opened
herself to the heady sensation. The kiss promised divine ecstasy, and Gwen
surrendered to the mastery of his lips.
Never before had she been kissed so
seductively. Her body burned from his touch, and she hungered for more.
As he slowly broke free, she tried
to bring her breathing back to normal. She stumbled back, brushing a trembling
hand over her lips.
Award-winning Celtic paranormal and fantasy romance author, Mary Morgan, resides in Northern California with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.
Mary's passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. Inspired by her love for history and ancient Celtic mythology, her tales are filled with powerful warriors, brave women, magic, and romance. It wasn't until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling by writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.
If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.
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Thanks so much for hosting my new release, TO WEAVE A HIGHLAND TAPESTRY on your blog today. Happy New Year!
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