Ever
since Lady Grace Walsingham discovered her uncle and sister are spies for the
Crown, she has yearned for adventure. She’s counting the days until she can
leave barbaric Scotland behind, even if she must endure Highland captain Fagan
Murray’s company for weeks.
Fagan
has a simple mission: escort the haughty Lady Grace back to England. But
nothing is ever easy. The sharp-tongued woman needles him at every turn. But
when a menacing threat follows them on their journey, Fagan’s grudging
tolerance for Grace turns to respect…and into a perilous attraction that could
seal their fate.
More
praise for My Highland Spy:
“Beautiful!
This book has it all.”—Night Owl Reviews, 4.5 Stars, Reviewer Top Pick
“One
of the best... an outstanding Scottish romance.”—Romance Reviews, 5 Stars
“An
exciting Highland tale of intrigue, betrayal, and love with a braw Highland
hero and strong English heroine any reader will love.”—Hannah Howell, New
York Times bestselling author of Highland Master
Highland
Spies series:
My
Highland Spy (Book 1)
Kilts
and Daggers (Book 2)
Plaids and Petticoats (Book 3)
Buy the Book
MY HIGHLAND SPY (Book 1)
KILTS AND DAGGERS (Book 2)
Victoria Roberts
writes sexy, award-winning Scottish historical romances about kilted heroes and
warriors from the past. Prior to ever picking up a single romance novel, she
penned her first young adult novella at 16 years old. Who knew her
leather-studded motorcycle hero would trade in his ride and emerge as a kilt
wearing Highlander wielding a broadsword? Victoria lives with her husband and
their two beautiful children in western Pennsylvania.
Connect with Victoria Roberts
Website
– www.VictoriaRobertsAuthor.com
To celebrate the release of KILTS AND DAGGERS, the second
title in Victoria Roberts’ Highland Spies series, Fagan Murray, the strong and
handsome captain of Laird Sutherland’s guard has agreed to sit down with us and
answer our questions so you can know more about this rugged Highlander!
What is your
favorite thing about your partner?
You never know what is going to come out of Grace’s
mouth—for better or worse.
What is the
sweetest thing your partner has done for you?
Agreed to be my wife.
“Mister
Murray, I don’t feel at ease discussing these subjects with you.”
“Then
call me Fagan. Mister Murray was my father’s name anyway.”
Grace
looked around and then softened her voice. “Now is that truly appropriate?”
“I told
ye before. Ye’re a long way from England, lass. Lest ye forget, ye’re in the
Highlands now. We do things differently here.”
She
lifted a brow. “How could I forget?”
“Ruairi
said ye’ll be staying with us for a few weeks. More to the point, I already
call Ruairi’s wife Ravenna.” He turned up his smile a notch. “Ye and I are
practically like family. Ye will call me Fagan, and I will call ye Grace, or I
could always call ye bhana-phrionnsa. I’ll be kind enough to give ye a
choice.”
“Ravenna
may permit you to call her by her Christian name, but I certainly do not,
Mister Murray. Although you do make me laugh, I’m afraid you and I are far from
family.”
***
When Grace’s eyes smoldered, Fagan knew
he shouldn’t get too close to the flame for fear of getting burned. There was
still enough time to take his leave. Otherwise, he’d be verbally sparring with
a lass in the middle of the great hall. Ruairi would no doubt have his head for
causing mischief with his kin so soon after the wedding.
Fagan
slapped both hands on the table and casually stood. Instinctively, he took
another step back in case the lass suddenly had a strong urge to reach across
the table and throttle him—or worse. Nevertheless, once she heard what he was
about to say, the table wouldn’t provide enough space between them.
“Verra
well then. I think bhana-phrionnsa
suits ye quite nicely.” When Grace’s cheeks turned scarlet, Fagan smiled.
“Donna say I didnae warn ye. Remember I did give ye a choice.” He winked at her
and then turned on his heel.
“Wait!”
He had a
hard time trying to mask his smile. He turned around slowly and lifted a brow.
“Aye?”
Grace
flew to her feet, walked around the table, and closed the distance between
them. She lifted her head, and by the way she was unsteady on her feet, he
swore the daft lass was standing on the tips of her toes in a futile attempt to
look him level in the eye.
“England
and Scotland have been warring for centuries, Mister Murray, yet somehow
Scotland has never won.” Lifting her skirts, she brushed his arm with her
shoulder and took a few steps away from him.
That
was until he called after her and stopped her dead in her tracks. “Cuine a chì mi a-ris thu, Grace?” When will I see you again? He made
certain he said the words as though he spoke to his lover, which obviously had
the desired effect because her whole body stiffened, and then she left him
without a backward glance. Fagan’s mood was suddenly buoyant. He wasn’t exactly
sure why he loved to unnerve Princess Grace, but he had one hell of a time
doing it.a Rafflecopter giveaway
.jpg)
