Meet the Author:
Cathy MacRae lives on the sunny side of the Arbuckle Mountains where she and her husband read, write, and tend the garden—with the help of the dogs, of course.
You can visit with her on facebook, or read her blogs and learn about her books at www.cathymacraeauthor.com. Drop her a line—she loves to hear from readers!
* * *DD MacRae enjoys bringing history to life and considers research one of the best things about writing a story! With more than 35 years of martial arts training, DD also brings breath-taking action to the tales.
You can connect with DD through www.cathymacraeauthor.com. It’s always exciting to hear from readers!
About the Book:
Katja’s chance to escape her father’s harsh treatment appears to be too good to be true. But becoming Lady of a clan that despises her because she’s a Sinclair, doesn’t make life any easier. When the attacks turn deadly, she fights her way out, making a dangerous passage to the Shetland Isles for refuge with her Viking family.
Calder and Katja’s marriage, built on mistrust, rushes quickly into disaster. As Calder seeks to repair the damage, Katja discovers not another enemy, but a husband who pledges a new beginning.
She entered the hall, the smell of food and sounds of celebration rising around her. A crowd of people surrounded Calder. He stood taller than the rest and she instantly recognized his dark hair. Feeling abandoned, she stayed back, unsure of her surroundings and what to do. After a few moments, she chided herself for being timid. She was Elke Reginulfsdottir’s daughter, descendant of warriors, trained to be a shieldmaiden. Without her there’d be no celebration. Smoothing her gown, she approached the crowd.
Head high, she drew closer, Freki padding beside her. A few people spotted the two of them and allowed her into the crowd, giving her escort distance aplenty. Katja halted a few feet away from the men as they shook her husband’s hand and slapped his back, waiting for him to acknowledge her. A buxom woman with dark red hair threw herself into Calder’s arms.
“Calder I’ve missed ye. My bed has been cold without ye.” Pressed against him, her ample breasts threatening to squeeze from the low neck of her gown, she planted a kiss on his cheek.
Katja stared in shock, her bags slipping from nerveless fingers. Laughter rang out and the foul wench shot Katja a knowing glare as she rubbed against Calder’s shoulder.
“When ye’ve drank yer fill, I’ll see to yer bath and a proper welcome tonight.” She turned back and claimed Calder’s lips. Stares fell on Katja and no laughter followed this time.
The second kiss shook Katja out of her surprise, setting her ablaze with anger. Though Calder didn’t appear to be an active participant, he did nothing to turn the slut away. It was bad enough to be left outside like so much unnecessary baggage. To endure being dishonored by her husband’s leman in front of the clan was more than too much.
How could she have thought Calder to be different than any other man she knew? Men might cover their intentions behind the occasional pretty word or a few kind deeds, but she possessed the ability to see that they all allowed their baser needs to lead them. In less than two days her husband proved to be no different.
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