Ian's Rose picks up where Frederick's Queen left off.
They should never have stolen his wife.
Ian Mackintosh and his bride, Rose, return to McLaren Lands to rebuild all that was destroyed by the previous laird. Believing bad times and evil men are behind them, they've let their guard down. Ian's world is turned upside down one cold winter's night when Rose is kidnapped.
Desperate, he is willing to make a deal with the devil himself in order to ensure her safe return. And he may have done just that when he agrees to work with the brother of the man responsible for tearing his world apart.
Is there a price too high to save the woman you love?
Ian's Rose has sold more than 25,000 copies since its release.
Prologue
March 1356, The McLaren Keep in the Highlands
There is a special place in hell for men like Mermadak McLaren.
Those who had suffered at his hand for too many years to count, celebrated openly and joyfully at the news of his death. Many believed whoever ’twas that took the auld son-of-a-whore’s life should be sainted, made king, or at the very least given his weight in gold as a blessedly deserved reward.
’Twould be no lie to say none would miss him.
As for the whereabouts of Donnel McLaren, the man who had helped the former laird steal, lie, and cheat Clan McLaren to near utter ruin, ’twas anyone’s guess. Hopefully, he was burning in hell right next to the McLaren. There weren’t many who were as vile, cruel, or evil as the two of them. Those few clansmen who remained were content for now to believe evil would never touch them again, or at least not for a very long while.
The McLarens had suffered through a cold, bleak, and harsh winter, living in the old granary, making plans for the future and dreaming of spring. The one thing that kept them going, even at those times when it felt God had forsaken them, was knowing Mermadak McLaren could never hurt them again.
But on this dark, windy night in early spring, Ian Mackintosh’s thoughts were as far away from evil men as they could get. Nay, he was thinking only of Rose, the woman he loved beyond doubt or denial. Never in his life had he met anyone such as she. Quick-witted, wise, and always blunt and to the point when she had something to say. And God’s teeth, she was beautiful. Long, wavy blonde locks that turned gold in the sunlight, blue eyes as bright and vivid as the Highland sky in springtime, and a smile that melted his heart like honey in the sun.
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Maria Regina de Almeida Barbuto
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