Mask of the Highlander ~ A Gods of the Highlands Prequel (2nd Edition): A Medieval Paranormal Highland Romance (Expanded Version)
Page 7
She pulled back and pushed up to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. After a lingering moment of sheer bliss, she stepped away. She gasped. His eye patch was gone, leaving his face uncovered and almost too handsome to look at. Two clear eyes, vibrant as lush foliage, stared back at her.
"You are not Ty Vass," she said in a quiet voice. He did not deny it. He said nothing at all, just stood before her, accused and awaiting sentence. "Who are ye, then?"
With a resigned hobble, he crossed to the table and drank from a goblet sitting there. He looked back at her with both eyes. "My true name is Ian," he said in a voice so low, she had to strain to hear it.
"Where is my husband?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He was killed in battle."
Kenna refused to smile, for surely she would burn in hell for such wickedness. But she made no effort to hide her relief. "Does anyone else know?"
He shook his head. "You alone, a ghrá."
Now Kenna did smile. She broke into a huge grin and flung herself at him. He caught her in his arms and kissed her with the hunger of a starving man. Kenna pulled back to catch her breath. She cupped his face in both hands, her eyes darting back and forth between his. "I love you, Ian."
He responded by placing one finger over her lips. "From this moment on, you can never call me that. Ian-of-no-familial-name no longer exists. I am Ty Vass and will remain so until the end of my days."
Kenna swallowed hard and nodded. "Our secret," she whispered. "Who are ye? Who is your family?"
"You are my family, Kenna. You and Isla. Together we will make this work. We will bring peace to these lands." He kissed her again, a bone-deep kiss full of promise and love. He lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, and carried her to the bed without taking his mouth from hers. He laid her down gently and removed his clothes.
Kenna grinned up at him as he stripped naked. He was like one of the old gods, powerful, strong.
He dropped down on top of her, supporting his mass with hands either side of her head, elbows braced. He dropped his head between his shoulders, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth.
Kenna clasped his backside in both hands. Gooseflesh tickled her palms, and she marveled that she could have such an effect on so potent a man.
His kiss was intoxicating, so when he pulled away, she groaned with disappointment.
He smiled down at her, his face hidden now in shadow. "Tomorrow, a ghrá," he whispered. "Tomorrow we will save the world. Tonight is ours."
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If you want to find out more about the Gods of the Highlands series, keep reading for an excerpt from Book 1: CAMULUS…
Excerpt from CAMULUS
© 2015 by Bambi Lynn
To punish the mortal who stole her powers, a former goddess makes a bargain with Death himself. He'll give her the chance to exact her revenge. But in exchange, she must find a god living in the guise of a Highland laird … and deliver him to the underworld.
Màili is a goddess. At least she was, until she trusted the wrong mortal. Now her powers and her immortality are gone—stolen. The only path to revenge against her betrayer? Root out and expose the Highlander scion of an ancient god. But succeeding means taking Camulus' life. Will her growing love for him overcome her thirst for revenge?
Camulus Vass is laird of clan Munro. He'd rather have a simple life, without the power and responsibility that consume his waking hours. Reared under the domineering heel of his uncle, Cam has become a pawn. Until the arrival of a mysterious newcomer awakens the warrior within him … and this time, he will not be tamed. How far will Camulus go to protect Màili and their chance of a future together?
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Camulus could not be worrying about Tanis' pride. He had his own problems at the moment.
Like why the housekeeper, Mrs. Niven, was dressing down one of the servants. At first glance, the girl appeared to cower before the matron. It was that fleeting appearance of helplessness that had drawn his attention. She was clad in a stiff–looking smock overlaid with a dirty apron that did little to hide voluptuous hips and full, heavy breasts. Cam's mouth watered.
But upon closer scrutiny, he noticed the rigid set of the girl's shoulders, the white–knuckled clench of her fists, the way her rich, chestnut hair fell forward to hide the angry clamp of her jaw from the woman before her.
Here was a girl with fight in her spirit. He admired her. Cam dreamed of standing up to his uncle, of slicing the reins Glendon held in an iron grasp. But he was the closest thing to a father Cam had ever known. His childhood had been spent vying for his uncle's approval, only to have his efforts dashed again and again. By the age of sixteen, Cam had accepted that nothing he did would ever be pleasing to Glendon Munro.
He crossed to the two women. "Mrs. Niven. Is there a problem?" He kept his eye son the servant.
"I should say so, m'laird," the housekeeper snarled. "This strumpet comes in here with her lofty tone, tellin' me how t' lay the hall for a funeral, like I ain’t seen more’n my share in all these years."
Hazel eyes snapped to his, fairly sparking with anger. “What else could I do?”
Cam caught his breath. The girl, no girl at all really, was beautiful. Her eyes, the color of fresh turned earth in the center and ringed in a verdant burst that reminded him of the forest, revealed a woman at least a decade older than he was, but she was as bonny as a lass of fifteen. A slender nose perched over lips that were full and plump as ripe fruit. Sadness swept over him at the memories that face invoked. He had loved a girl like her once.
"She was doing it wrong," she said.
Cam drew himself out of his reverie. What was she talking about?
Mrs. Niven waved a menacing iron skillet in the air. "Who d'ye think ye are, a–tellin' me I'm doin' it wrong?" she shouted.
The woman gave a delicate snort. "Any idiot can see it."
She hardly sounded 'lofty'. In fact, her tone was so blunt, Cam almost laughed. But he remembered Mrs. Niven's wrath from his childhood. He feared she would actually strangle the slighter woman if she got hold of her.
He held up his hands for peace. "Enough, now." He looked at the newcomer. "Who are ye?" he asked.
The two women stared each other down. It was Mrs. Niven who answered. "Sirona's maid," she sneered. She turned her head and spit over her shoulder in a gesture meant to ward off evil.
Was Mrs. Niven suspicious of Sirona?
The younger woman turned those hazel eyes back to him then. "My name is Màili. Sirona asks that you meet her…" she glanced at Mrs. Niven, "…she said you would know where."
Lucan had joined them by now and heard this last bit. He grinned and nudged Cam with an elbow. "I know that place."
With a final glare at Mrs. Niven, Màili turned and strode across the room towards the back entrance.
"She doesna act like a maid," Cam mumbled to no one in particular as they watched her go.
Get your complimentary copy now by clicking: CAMULUS
Also by Bambi Lynn
The Gods of the Highlands Saga
Mask of the Highlander
Camulus
Sirona
Tanis
Lucan
Solid as a Rock
Rock My World
Between a Rock and Hard Place
Rock the Kasbah
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The Vikings
Gunnar
Wulf
Bron
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Acknowledgements
Many thanks to my team: Debbie, Trish, Elizabeth, Cathryn. I couldn’t do this without you.
Thanks to all my wonderful readers who keep asking for more GODS!
And especially:
for Cliff,
as always
And for my Mom,
who always encouraged me
to follow my dreams
All the best to you, goddesses. Peace and Love!
About the Author
Bambi Lynn graduated from the University of Maryland European Division with bachelor’s degrees in English and History. She writes Paranormal Romance and Viking Erotica.
She can be reached at www.bambilynn.net
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Bambi Lynn
All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of the copyright holder.
ISBN – 978-0-9974337-0-8
Cover Design by Patricia Schmitt (PickyMe) www.pickymeartist.com