To Tame a Highland Warrior (Highlander Series #2)
To Tame a Highland Warrior (Highlander Series #2)
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Overview
He was born to a clan of warriors of supernatural strength, but Gavrael McIllioch abandoned his name and his Highland castle, determined to escape the dark fate of his ancestors. Hiding his identity from the relentless rival clan that hunted him, he called himself Grimm to protect the people he cared for, vowing never to acknowledge his love for ravishing Jillian St. Clair. Yet even from afar he watched over her, and when her father sent an urgent summons, "Come for Jillian," he raced to her side--into a competition to win her hand in marriage.
Why had he run from her so many years before? And why return now to see her offered as a prize in her father's manipulative game? Furious, Jillian vowed never to wed. But Grimm was the man she loved, the one who urged her to marry another. He tried to pretend indifference as she tempted him, but he could not deny the fierce desires that compelled him to abduct her from the altar. She was the only woman who could tame the beast that raged within him--even as deadly enemies plotted to destroy them both....
Karen Marie Moning graduated from Purdue University with a bachelor's degree in Society and Law. She worked as a bartender, a computer consultant, and an insurance specialist before returning to her first dream: writing. "I have always been fascinated by words, by their power to create and entertain. I can still recall the exhilaration I felt when my mother took me to a library for the first time--all those infinite worlds begging to be explored. I was an addict from that moment."
Karen Moning lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her cat, Moonshadow.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781480541528 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Brilliance Audio |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2013 |
| Series: | Karen Marie Moning's Highlander Series , #2 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
| Product dimensions: | 7.00(w) x 5.10(h) x 1.40(d) |
About the Author
Phil Gigante has narrated over 130 audiobooks, including Audie Award winner The Dark Highlander. An actor, director, and producer with over 20 years experience in theatre, film, television, and radio, he is currently the artistic director of Gigantic Productions and Little Giant Children’s Theatre. He makes his home in the Midwest.
Read an Excerpt
"I didn't exactly tell you the whole story, Hawk, and I doona have time for it now, but I'll tell you as soon as I get settled."
"You'll tell me now, or I'm coming with you," Hawk threatened. "Which means Adrienne and Carthian are coming as well, so you can either tell me or prepare for company, and you never know what might happen if Adrienne comes along."
Grimm scowled. "You really can be a pain, Hawk."
"Relentless. Formidable," Adrienne agreed sweetly. "You may as well give in, Grimm. My husband never takes no for an answer. Believe me, I know this."
"Come on, Grimm, if you can't trust me, who can you trust?" he coaxed. "Where are you going?"
"It's not a question of trust, Hawk." Hawk merely waited with an expectant look on his face, and Grimm knew he had no intention of relenting. Hawk would push and poke and ultimately do exactly as he'd threatened--come along--unless Grimm gave him a sufficient answer. Perhaps it was time he admitted the truth, although the odds were that once he did, he wouldn't be welcomed back at Dalkeith. "I'm going home, sort of," Grimm finally conceded.
"Caithness is your home?"
"Tuluth," Grimm muttered.
"What?"
"Tuluth," Grimm said flatly. "I was born in Tuluth."
"You said you were born in Edinburgh!"
"I lied."
"Why? You told me your entire family was dead! Was that a lie too?"
"No! They are. I didn't lie about that. Well ... mostly I didn't lie," he corrected hastily. "My da is still alive, but I haven't spoken to him in more than fifteen years."
A muscle twitched in Hawk's jaw. "Sit down, Grimm. You're not going anywhere until you tell me all of it, and Isuspect it's a tale that's long overdue."
"I doona have time, Hawk. If St. Clair said it was urgent, I was needed at Caithness weeks ago."
"What relevance has Caithness to any of this, or to you? Sit. Talk. Now."
Sensing no possibility of reprieve, Grimm paced as he began his story. He told them how, at the age of fourteen, he'd left Tuluth the night of the massacre and wandered the forests of the Highlands for two years, wearing his war braids and hating mankind, hating his father, hating himself. He skipped the brutal parts--his mother's murder, the starvation he'd endured, the repeated attempts on his life. He told them that when he was sixteen he'd found shelter with Gibraltar St. Clair; that he'd changed his name to Grimm to protect himself and those for whom he cared. He told them how the McKane had found him again at Caithness and attacked his foster family. And finally, in the tone of a dreaded confession, he told them what his real name had been.
"What did you just say?" Hawk asked blankly.
Grimm drew a deep breath into his lungs and expelled it angrily. "I said Gavrael. My real name is Gavrael." There was only one Gavrael in all of Scotland; no other man would willingly own up to that name and that curse. He braced himself for the Hawk's explosion. He didn't have to wait for long.
"McIllioch?" Hawk's eyes narrowed disbelievingly.
"McIllioch," Grimm confirmed.
"And Grimm?"
"Grimm stands for Gavrael Roderick Icarus McIllioch." Grimm's Highland brogue rolled so thickly around the name, it was a nearly unintelligible burr of r's and l's and staccato-sharp k's. "Take the first letter of each name, and there you have it. G-R-I-M."
"Gavrael McIllioch was a Berserker!" Hawk roared.
"I told you you didn't know so much about me," Grimm said darkly.
Crossing the study in three swift strides, Hawk bristled to a stop inches from Grimm's face and studied him, as if he might uncover some telltale trace of a beast that should have betrayed Grimm's secret years ago. "How could I not have known?" Hawk muttered. "For years I'd been wondering about some of your peculiar ... talents. By the bloody saints, I should have guessed if only from your eyes--"
"Lots of people have blue eyes, Hawk," Grimm said dryly.
"Not like yours, Grimm," Adrienne remarked.
"This explains it all," Hawk said slowly. "You're not human."
Grimm flinched.
Adrienne leveled a dark look at her husband and linked her arm through Grimm's. "Of course he's human, Hawk. He's just human ... plus some."
"A Berserker." Hawk shook his head. "A fardling Berserker. You know, they say William Wallace was a Berserker."
"And what a lovely life he had, eh?" Grimm said bitterly.
Grimm rode out shortly thereafter, answering no more questions and leaving the Hawk immensely dissatisfied. He left quickly, because the memories were returning of their own accord and with fury. Grimm knew he had to be alone when full recollection finally reclaimed him. He didn't willingly think about Tuluth anymore. Hell, he didn't willingly think anymore, not if he could help it.
Tuluth: in his memory a smoky valley, clouds of black so thick his eyes had stung from the acrid stench of burning homes and burning flesh. Children screaming. Och, Christ!
Grimm swallowed hard as he spurred Occam into a gallop across the ridge. He was impervious to the beauty of the Highland night, lost in another time, surrounded only by the color of blood and the blackness of soul-disfiguring desolation--with one shimmering spot of gold.
Jillian.
Is he an animal, Da? May I keep him? Please? He's an ever-so-glorious beastie!
And in his mind he was sixteen years old again, looking down at the wee golden lass. Memory swept over him, dripping shame thicker than clotted honey off a comb. She'd found him in the woods, scavenging like a beast.
He'd be fiercer than my Savanna TeaGarden, Da!
Savanna TeaGarden being her puppy, all one hundred forty pounds of Irish wolfhound puppy.
He'd protect me well, Da, I know he would!
The instant she'd said the words, he'd taken a silent vow to do just that, never dreaming it might one day entail protecting her from himself.
Grimm rubbed his clean-shaven jaw and tossed his head in the wind. For a brief moment he felt the matted hair again, the dirt and sweat and the war braids, the fierce eyes brimming with hatred. And the pure, sweet child had trusted him on sight.
Och, but he'd dissuaded her quickly.
What People are Saying About This
"Highly original...sensual, hard-to-put-down romance. Karen Marie Moning is destined to make her mark on the genre."—Romantic Times
"A hauntingly beautiful love story...Karen Marie Moning gives us an emotional masterpiece that you will want to take out and read again and again."—Rendezvous