Give away: Be sure to check out the preview on Amazon. Tell me the legendary creature that Alasdair thinks he may have found when he discovers an unconscious lass on the beach and you might win a beaded book thong with Silver Celtic Charms. Send the answer to me at authorbjscott@gmail.com and two people with the right answer will win a book thong.
Northern Coast of Scotland
Hooves pounded against
rocks, surf, and sand as Alasdair Fraser pushed his mount beyond reasonable
limits. Few things rivaled the thrill and exhilarating rush of mastering the
powerful destrier between his thighs, controlling the magnificent beast with
reins and will. The wind whipped through unbound hair and the tangy scent of
the salty sea air filled Alasdair’s nostrils.
He’d ridden hard all
afternoon, hoping to reach the stronghold of his long-time friend, Jayden
Sinclair. But the sun had slipped below the horizon, the twilight sky ablaze
with orange, red, and purple hues. Darkness would soon be upon him and he’d be
forced to make camp for the night. He licked his parched lips and his stomach
rumbled. Many hours had passed since he’d last eaten, but a hot meal and a
tankard of ale would have to wait. Water, oatcakes, and a bit of dried venison
would suffice until he reached his destination.
He dug in his heels, and
the steed surged forward. The more distance they covered before nightfall, the
shorter the journey would be on the morrow. But as they rounded a bend in the
shoreline, Odin faltered, reared up on his hind legs, then began to dance
nervously from side-to-side. The battle-hardened warhorse didn’t spook easily
so Alasdair took heed of the animal’s uneasiness.
With one hand resting on
the hilt of his sword, the other fisting the reins, he carefully surveyed the
immediate area. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, yet the niggling of
trepidation gnawing at his gut led him to believe there was something amiss. He
nudged the horse’s flank and the pair advanced with caution.
They’d only traveled a
short distance up the beach when the sight of something a few yards ahead at
the water’s edge brought them to an abrupt halt. With his heart hammering in
his chest, Alasdair cupped his hand over his brow and narrowed his eyes, trying
to get a better look. The image came into focus and he could make out the
unmistakable outline of a person sprawled out on the shore.
“What is it, Odin? Or,
should I say, who is it?”
While this could be
someone in need, it might also be a trap, an enemy or bandit lying in wait.
Without hesitation, Alasdair slid from the saddle, pulled a claymore from the
baldric slung on his back, and raced down the beach on foot. Stopping a few
feet away, he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Mo chreach!”
He sheathed his weapon and
took a step closer. A young woman, wearing nothing more than a thin nightrail,
lay motionless in the sand, the waves of the incoming tide lapping at her bare
feet.
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