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eBook Category: Romance/Historical Fiction
eBook Description: Scot's mercenary, Winslow MacInness, rescues a Norman beauty, but how can he help her find her way home if she cannot speak? While waiting for her to recover, MacInness discovers a woman he can love, one who can replace the woman he can never have, his overlord's wife. But marriage to Genvieve isn't part of his plan until he discovers her life is still in danger and the only way to protect her is to marry her. But will he survive the attempts on his life? Is Genvieve de Chauret behind those attempts?

eBook Publisher: DCL Publications LLC, Published: Australia, 2007
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2007

22 Reader Ratings:

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"Winslow MacInness knows nothing about the unconscious woman in his arms beyond that her very life depends on his help. Near collapse himself, he trudges on, carrying his precious burden until he reaches the sanctuary of Merewood Keep. Having rescued the lovely Norman from ruffians who had nearly murdered her, Winslow feels his responsibility for his mysterious charge very strongly. But is it only his sense of duty stirring his feelings for her, or something much deeper? When Genvieve wakes, she finds herself unable to speak at all, having suffered tremendous damage to her throat in the attack. The handsome Scot is the only person who seems able to understand her silent communications. More than that, he seems to be able to reach parts of her that have lain dormant since the death of her husband? Betrayal lurks in the dark corners of the keep, and a forced marriage doesn't set well with either Winslow or Genvieve, no matter that it is the best way to protect her. But the forced marriage means forced proximity, and the couple can't deny their feelings for each other? C.H. Admirand delights her fans with a third entry in her Medieval Trilogy. A Scot's Honor follows the first two books in that trilogy, The Lord of Merewood Keep and The Saxon Bride, and stars a character we initially met (and fell for) in the first book--Winslow MacInness. Winslow was a noble, yet sorrowful character in that first book, finding himself saddled with an unrequited love for the heroine of that story. In A Scot's Honor, Winslow soon learns that his feelings for Jillian paled in comparison to what he feels for the wounded woman he brings to Merewood Keep. Yes, Genvieve appeals to his sense of honor and chivalry, but there is much more to his feelings than that, and watching his failed attempts to deny the unstoppable passion between them is hotter than hot! What is it about watching a strong hero meet his downfall in an equally strong heroine that is so much fun? LOL Without words and without trying, Genvieve easily steals a heart that doesn't wish to be stolen. Her strength of character coupled with a charming vulnerability make her a character easy to empathize with and admire.

Rounding out the story is a nice little suspenseful plot as Winslow tries to uncover exactly who is the intended victim of several attempts at murder and, of course, just who is behind them. When the answers come, our hero and heroine both exhibit the depth of their compassion and capacity for forgiveness in a way that will touch even the most jaded of hearts.

While I loved both of the previous books in this series, A Scot's Honor is my favorite of the three! And I will admit it makes me the saddest, as it is the last in the trilogy. Of course, I for one will not hold it against Admirand if she ever decides to change the title of this series from 'trilogy' to something that allows many more books? There are several other characters I would love to see more of. Doesn't Garrick have two more brothers?

If you enjoy sexy little historicals with well-written romance and a suspenseful plot, then you will not want to miss this one!"--Jennifer, www.ck2skwipsandkritiques.com

"Hang on lass," MacInness urged. "'Tis just through the wood."

Shards of pain splintered throughout his bruised and battered body and his grip slackened. Ruthlessly pushing the pain aside, he focused on the woman in his arms and tightened his hold.

Ebony tresses lay plastered against her ghastly pale face. His throat closed. Was he too late? "Almost there," he rasped.

Refusing to give in to his body's clamoring need to stop and rest, Winslow MacInness clenched his jaw and his resolve. If he stopped now, he'd drop from sheer exhaustion. He'd not give the bastards the satisfaction of dying, not now when sanctuary lay just across the open field.

Merewood Keep.

He'd been gone for months, he thought crossing toward the Saxon holding. Though he wished he'd stayed on in the Highlands, fate had brought him home and had him rescuing the woman he carried.

Would she make it? Duncan hadn't. He must be losing his mind as well as his life's blood if he was thinking about his dead horse.

MacInness's mind drifted and he wasn't paying attention. He slipped on the wet grass, going down hard on one knee. The jagged edge of a rock tore into his flesh. Pain. Thank God he felt something other than the numbness creeping slowly up his shins.

"Hold!" a voice commanded through the mist.

Ignoring it, he placed one quivering leg in front of the other. If he stopped now, he'd never make it. He glanced down; she was still unconscious.

Too long.

The gash on his forehead began to throb in earnest, accompanied by the warm trickle of his own blood sliding down the side of his face.

The first arrow surprised him. He braced for the second one. The tip of the second arrow sliced through the bottom edge of his plaid before plunging into the soft earth between his feet. The feathered knock brushed against the very top of his thigh and his manly pride.

"Bollocks," he swore.

The lads are gettin' better. He shifted his handhold freeing his right hand, prepared to give the signal Garrick had taught him when he swore allegiance and became vassal to the Lord of Merewood Keep. Raising his fist in the air, he waited a heartbeat then touched it to his heart.

The third arrow sailed wildly over his head. A voice called out, "MacInness?"

"Aye."

"We thought you dead." Garrick's shout was echoed by the grating of wood against stone as the gate opened.

"I canna imagine that I'm far from it," he replied. His vision grayed as the blood oozing from a dozen places reached a crucial level. Darkness danced at the edge of his sight.

His legs wobbled, forcing him to his knees. The impact jarred the deep wound in his thigh. Razor sharp pain lanced through him as the healing wound re-opened. He gasped for breath.