When an immortal Highlander falls in love with a human witch, “Mortal Magick” soon casts a spell of its own.
Doomed for eternity to wander nights as half man and half creature, rugged Highlander, Duncan McCord, discovers his curse is the least of his problems when he sets out for a cure and rescues the beauty determined to help tame his beast.
When a reluctant witch, Keara, gets whisked back to 18th century mystical Isle of Skye to learn lessons in magic, she faces the true test of love when she meets the man beyond her wildest dreams burdened with dark secrets from his past.
Forced together to journey through an enchanted country filled with mythical creatures and magical lore, will they survive in a world where evil sorcery reigns, or will a shocking twist of fate tear them centuries apart?
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Trotternish ∙ Isle of Skye, Scotland ∙ October 7, 1797
Duncan McCord wanted a woman. His entire body and soul hungered for a special lass’ touch. The one destined for his love, whom he would call kindred spirit. His stomach tightened, a pain ripping through him like the slice of a broadsword. This canna happen. Not now, not ever. Reality hastily slapped him back to his senses. He vowed never to be foolish enough to let himself fall into another vixen’s treacherous traps.
Dark, threatening clouds rolled over Scotland’s glorious mountain peaks in the distance. The muscles in his legs rippled, gripping both sides of his mount. His stallion, Goliath, snorted and stopped short in his tracks. His enormous hooves stomped the hard ground.
“Aye, ‘tis all right, me friend. Just a bad storm startin’ to brew. What a grand spot to rest for the night.” Duncan bent down and stroked the neck of the black steed then swung his leg over and jumped to the ground, beginning to remove both gear and saddle.
Goliath neighed, his breath white in the cold air.
A gust of frigid air swept around Duncan’s feet, spiraling its way beneath his woolen plaid. Leaves rustled from the biting breeze as they whispered danger through the towering pines.
Goliath snorted again and reared his mighty head.
The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled Duncan’s flaring nostrils and jabbed his memory. The pleasing fragrance was soon replaced with the putrid smell of dead worms and rotten leaves. Clenching his fists, his knuckles cracked. Short hairs bristled on the back of his neck. Wicked laughter echoed through the Highland hills.
A woman’s teasing, silky voice sparked his memory, whispering poison in his ears.
“Your journey is for naught, my beloved Duncan. I see you’re still stubborn as always. Your horse seems to have more common sense than you.”
The snicker became a cackle. Invisible fingers like fuzzy feathers tickled his whiskers, making his face twitch.
“I see ye still didna have the guts to face me, ye bloody she-devil. Afraid ye might finally get what ye rightfully deserve?” Stone-faced, he shouted into empty space. “I promise, witch. Ye won’t be laughin’ for verra much longer.”
“Careful, my spirited lover. You don’t want to wake the inner beast before sunset.
“Duncan lunged from the damp forest floor. His splayed hooves clip-clopped on top of a boulder. His nostrils flared from the irresistible lingering lavender scent. He cocked his head to the side, his keen hearing caught her every breath as each step she took brought her dangerously closer. “Aye, the damn fool-headed woman! She’s done wandered off again.”
He snarled at a shooting star plummeting to the ground. Like a bubbling cauldron of fire, it spit an outburst of flames across the moonlit sky. “Aye, the bonny wee lass is headed straight for a trap.” Clenching his fists, he veered back his head and wailed.”
About the Author:
Patty was raised as a “country girl”, and fell in love with animals, books and the mystical world of magick from a wee girl. With her mother’s heritage, born and raised in Northern Ireland, along with the discovery of her father having American Indian ancestry, Patty’s fascination for both cultures quickly led her imagination to run wild.
Her love of The Chronicles of Narnia Series, from C.S. Lewis inspired her to start creating magical realms and characters of her own.
Patty’s dream to work with white wolves didn’t become a reality, but she considers herself blessed to have been “owned and loved” by a pack of beloved Samoyeds for over 20 years.
In her spare time, Patty can be found sitting beside one of her favorite spinning wheels, blending exotic fibers while her imagination weaves more stories. While she cherishes fond memories of both her parents, thanks to her beloved Irish Mom, Patty’s belief in the little people and fairies still carries on.