Highland Treasure
Page 29
“Good eve, husband,” she whispered, squeezing the back of his hand.
“Good eve, wife. Did I wake you?” he asked with concern as he pressed a kiss to her neck.
“Nay,” she lied, knowing he’d feel guilty otherwise and not wanting him to add that burden to the load he was already carrying. She felt him relax and closed her eyes, thinking he would sleep now, when he spoke again.
“The motte and bailey is done.”
Elysande’s eyes flew open at once and she twisted onto her back to try to look at him, but it was too dark to see his expression. “Really?”
“Aye. We finished tonight,” he said, and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “We can all move in tomorrow and stop tripping over each other in this place.”
“And the clans will leave now,” she added, happiest about that. Having them work together was like having a dozen cooks in the kitchen, each of them wanting to lead the meal preparation, each having their own way of doing things and each sure their way was best. She was amazed everyone had made it through the project alive.
“Half of them have already gone, and the other half plan to leave after breaking their fast in the morning,” Rory told her.
“And we shall have the place to ourselves,” Elysande said on a pleased little sigh, squeezing his arm as she did.
“Ourselves, five soldiers, sixty servants, a hundred sheep, a dozen chickens, two cows, six horses and two thousand masons and laborers banging away nearby every day,” Rory said dryly.
Elysande chuckled at the complaint and turned onto her side facing him. “We could always slip away back here on occasion when you wish a break. Aulay did give us use of the lodge until the castle is built.”
“Aye, he did, didn’t he?” Rory murmured, drawing her closer and rubbing his hand up and down her back. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he sighed, “I love you, Elysande. I’m so glad your mother sent you to me.”
“So am I,” she whispered back. “And I love you too.”
When his response was a light snore, a smile slid over Elysande’s lips. She wasn’t upset that he’d fallen asleep and missed her declaration. She had told him that before and would tell him again. In fact, she planned to tell him that at least once a day for the rest of her life. Because she did love him, and she too was grateful she had been sent to him. Elysande’s mother might have called her a treasure in the letter she’d sent to Rory, but the truth was her brave handsome Highlander husband was the treasure, and he was all hers.
“I love you too, my highland treasure,” she whispered softly and closed her eyes.
An Excerpt from Meant to Be Immortal
Read on for a sneak peek of Lynsay Sands’s
MEANT TO BE IMMORTAL
Available May 2021
Prologue
Mac had just finished setting up his centrifuge when he caught a whiff of what smelled like smoke. He lifted his head and inhaled deeply; there was the astringent cleaner he’d used on the counter surfaces, various chemical and other scents he couldn’t readily identify that were coming from the boxes he had yet to unpack, and—yes—smoke.
A frisson of alarm immediately ran up the back of Mac’s neck. Where there was smoke there was fire and fire was bad for his kind. It was bad for mortals too, of course, but was even worse for immortals who were incredibly flammable.
Straightening abruptly, Mac stepped over one unopened box and then another, weaving his way out of the maze of unpacking he still had to do and to the stairs leading out of the basement. He took them two at a time, rushing up the steps to the special door he’d had installed several days ago. It blocked sound, germs, and everything else from entering the lab he was turning his basement into. He’d also had the walls sealed and covered with a germ-resistant skin. Apparently, his efforts had been successful. Even at the top of the stairs, he was only able to catch the slightest hint of smoke in the air, yet when he opened the door he found himself standing at the mouth of hell. The kitchen on the other side of the door was engulfed in flames that seemed almost alive and leapt excitedly his way with a roar.
A startled shout of alarm slipped from his lips as heat rushed over him, and Mac slammed the door closed at once. He nearly took a header down the stairs in his rush to get as far away from it as he could and crashed into a box as he stumbled off the last step. Pausing then, he stopped to turn in a circle, a mouse in a blazing maze, searching for a way out.
His gaze slid over the small half windows that ran along the top of the basement wall on the back of the house, skating over the flames waving at him from the burning bushes outside, and then he turned toward the rooms along the front of the house and hurried to the door to the first one. It was a bathroom, its window even smaller than the others in the main room. It was also covered with some kind of glaze that blocked the view. Even so, he could see light from the fire on the other side of it.
Rushing to the next door, he thrust it open. This was an empty room about ten feet deep and fourteen wide, with two half windows that ran along the front of the house. Mac stared with despair at the flames dancing on the other side of the glass. He was trapped, with no way out . . . and no way even to call for help, he realized suddenly. There was no landline in the basement, and he’d left his cell phone upstairs on the kitchen counter to avoid interruptions while he set up down here.
I’m done for, Mac thought with despair, and then glimpsed a flash of red light beyond the flames framing and filling the nearer window. Moving cautiously forward, Mac tried to see what was out there, and felt a bit of hope when he spotted the fire truck parked at the top of the driveway and the men rushing around it, pulling out equipment. If he could get their attention, and let them know where he was . . .
Turning, Mac rushed back into the main room, wading through the sea of boxes until he spotted the one he wanted. He ripped it open and dug through the bubble-wrapped contents until he found his microscope. It was old and heavy, and Mac pulled it out with relief and then tore the bubble wrap off as he moved back to the empty storage room. He didn’t even hesitate, but crossed half the room in a couple of swift strides and simply threw the microscope through the nearest of the two little windows. Glass shattered and Mac jumped back as the flames exploded inward as if eager to get in. They were followed by rolling smoke that quickly surrounded him, making him choke as he yelled for help.
He was shouting for the third time when dark figures appeared on the other side of the fire now crowding the window. He thought he could make out two men in bulky gear, what he supposed was the firemen’s protective wear, and then someone shouted, “Hello? Is there someone there?”
“Yes!” Mac responded with relief. “I am in the basement.”
“We’ll get you out! Just hang on, buddy! We’ll get you out!”
“Get somewhere where there’s less smoke,” someone else shouted to him.
“Okay!” Mac backed out of the room, his fascinated gaze watching the fire fan out from the window as the drywall around it caught flame. It would spread quickly now that he’d given the fire a way in, he knew. The smoke was already filling this room and pouring out into the main room, but he could deal with that. Smoke couldn’t kill him. Fire would.
Cursing, he turned abruptly and returned to the bathroom next door. There was no fire or smoke in the small room yet, but would be soon enough. Moving to the cast iron claw-foot tub he’d had refinished before moving in, Mac plugged in the stopper and prayed silently as he turned on the taps. Relief slid through him when water began to pour out. The fire hadn’t stopped the water from working yet, and the taps and faucet were old enough not to have an aerator to reduce the speed at which the water jetted out. It gushed from the tap at high pressure, filling the tub quickly, or at least more quickly than his tub back in New York would have filled. There it would have taken ten or fifteen minutes to fill the tub; here it took probably half that, but they were the longest minutes of his life and fire was beginning to eat through the wall between the bathroo
m and the storage room before it was quite finished.
Mac didn’t wait for it to finish filling, but stepped into the quickly heating water in his pajama bottoms and T-shirt when it was three-quarters full, and submerged himself up to his nose. Smoke was coming into the room now, pouring through the air vents, making breathing hard, and the water was hotter than hell, the fire heating it in the pipes on its way to this room and the tub. But it was only going to get hotter. The one wall of the room was now a mass of flames, and the fire was eating its way into the two connecting walls as well. The linoleum tile on the floor was catching flame and curling inward toward the tub. The water he was in would be boiling soon, by his guess. He now knew how lobsters felt when dropped in boiling water. It was one hell of a gruesome way to die . . . But it wouldn’t kill him. As long as he didn’t catch fire, he would survive, but Mac suspected he’d wish he was dead before this was over.
About the Author
LYNSAY SANDS is the nationally bestselling author of the Argeneau/Rogue Hunter vampire series, as well as numerous historicals and anthologies. She’s been writing since grade school and considers herself incredibly lucky to be able to make a career out of it. Her hope is that readers can get away from their everyday stress through her stories, and if there are occasional uncontrollable fits of laughter, that’s just a big bonus.
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Praise for Lynsay Sands
“It’s hard to resist her witty dialogue, off-the-wall scenarios, sexy moments, and tongue-in-cheek sense of humor . . .”
—Entertainment Weekly
“You can’t help but fall in love with Lynsay Sands!”
—Christina Dodd
“Lush, lively, and romantic—Lynsay Sands hits all the right notes.”
—Suzanne Enoch
“A love story as bighearted and exciting as the highlander at its heart.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Falling for the Highlander
“[Sands] definitively answers the question of what is worn—or not worn—under the kilts of her sexy Scots . . . a lighthearted and lusty series.”
—Publishers Weekly on Surrender to the Highlander
“Memorable characters, red-hot sex, and danger-infused plotting . . .”
—Booklist on The Highlander’s Promise
By Lynsay Sands
Highland Treasure
Hunting for a Highlander
My Favorite Things
A Lady in Disguise
The Wrong Highlander
The Highlander’s Promise
Surrender to the Highlander
Falling for the Highlander
The Highlander Takes a Bride
To Marry a Scottish Laird
An English Bride in Scotland
The Husband Hunt
The Heiress
The Countess
The Hellion and the Highlander
Taming the Highland Bride
Devil of the Highlands
The Loving Daylights
Immortal Angel
Immortal Born
The Trouble with Vampires
Vampires Like It Hot
Twice Bitten
Immortally Yours
Immortal Unchained
Immortal Nights
Runaway Vampire
About a Vampire
The Immortal Who Loved Me
Vampire Most Wanted
One Lucky Vampire
Immortal Ever After
The Lady Is a Vamp
Under a Vampire Moon
The Reluctant Vampire
Hungry for You
Born to Bite
The Renegade Hunter
The Immortal Hunter
The Rogue Hunter
Vampire, Interrupted
Vampires Are Forever
The Accidental Vampire
Bite Me if You Can
A Bite to Remember
Tall, Dark & Hungry
Single White Vampire
Love Bites
A Quick Bite
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Meant to Be Immortal copyright © 2021 by Lynsay Sands.
highland treasure. Copyright © 2021 by Lynsay Sands. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. 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 hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition FEBRUARY 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-285541-1
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-285540-4
Cover design by Patricia Barrow
Cover artwork by Chris McGrath
Avon, Avon & logo, and Avon Books & logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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