Welcome KyAnn Waters

Good morning, or Afternoon, or even Evening depending on your location. I'm actually in Edinburgh, Scotland this week or part of the time, we'll be off to Dublin in a couple of days. Since I'm here, I asked another good friend of mine, who is also an author, to visit my garden and share a bit about her Scottish book. I'm sure the garden staff provided a yummy spread as usual, so fill your plates and find a seat. And now, welcome KyAnn Waters.

Why write Scottish historical? The man in the kilt, of course. Compelling… formidable…intriguing…mysterious…and sexy as hell.

Thank you Mary, or inviting me to your blog today to share Lord Taran Robertson, Viscount of Blackhall. This kilted god as has eyes the color of copper, strong shoulders, and a Scottish burr. And he is about to wed a very improper wife.

The Highlander’s Improper Wife
A proper young lady should never attend a Masque...Aphrodite is no lady.

Betrothal to the callous Lord Blackhall painted a future devoid of love. Upon his death, Lady Caroline Wilmont is promised to the younger brother. Caroline refuses to allow her first taste of desire to be at the hands of a man who would rather have any woman but her. This, her last night of freedom, is to be a memory of lust that she can take with her throughout her loveless marriage. As Aphrodite, Caroline attends a masque determined to find a man to initiate her into the intimacies of erotic love.

Taran Robertson, Viscount of Blackhall, makes no secret that he despises his obligation to marry the Sassenach heiress chosen for him by his father. As a last foray before his wedding, he attends a masque. However, the spirited vixen he meets and seduces has secrets...secrets that just may reveal he’s to have an improper wife.

In the distance, the rear of the maze gave way to trees that stretched heavenward, but she stood no chance of navigating through the twists and turns that led to them. She faced the mansion and studied the path leading back in that direction.

“Left, right, second right, third—no—second left,” she said, while reciting a silent vow never to have a stupid maze on any of her properties.

Caroline turned to jump from the bench and shrieked. A masked, kilted god stood nearly eye-to-eye with her. She stumbled back. He seized her waist and yanked her forward. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck to keep from falling and her cheek met the warm, damp flesh of his shoulder. Her heart raced at a gallop.

“Careful, my lady.” The deep, cultured English accent didn’t quite disguise the hint of Scottish burr.

Gooseflesh chilled her arms. Yet, her body warmed. Her nipples hardened to erect peaks against the thin fabric of her costume.

“My lady,” he prodded.

Fear that he would feel the heat of her arousal immobilized her.

“I can stand here all night, if it pleases you,” he murmured.

The erotic vision of him doing just that while she rubbed her nipples against his hard body snapped her head up. Dark eyes indistinguishable from the shadow stared at her through a black eye mask.

A flurry of butterflies swirled in her tummy. “I am lost.” She cursed the breathless note in her voice.

“Nay, I found you.” He shifted. A dusting of hair at the nape of his neck tickled her fingertips. He slowly slid her body against his as he lowered her to the ground.

The scent of leather and cloves clung to him. She inhaled, heart fluttering, then tilted her head up. “You have my gratitude, sir. I would be even more grateful if you could direct me out of this…this…labyrinth.”

“Even more grateful?” he repeated.

Caroline became aware of the rough wool of his kilt against the sensitive skin of her thigh. She willed her racing heart to slow. Here was the warm flush that had been missing with the domino in the ballroom. Cruel fate. Far too late has come my redemption.

“Would you like to return to the masque?” His hands dropped from her waist.

A strange sense of loss washed over her. She steeled her resolve to go home and stepped away from him. “I am leaving.”

“Through the gardens?” The harshness in his tone startled her. “It is more likely you fled the festivities to meet someone. The blue domino, perhaps?”

Caroline stiffened. “Anyone attending the masque is well aware of the frolicking taking place in these gardens.”

“Frolicking?” he repeated.

“You are here, sir. Need I feel recrimination because I am a woman? Bah,” she added in a mutter. “I have no time for this foolishness.”

She meant to head towards the mansion, but he blocked the way, so she turned deeper into the maze.

“My lady.” He grasped her arm.

She dropped her gaze to his long, dark fingers. His hold, though light, held her firm. An unexpected vision of those strong fingers gripping her hips while he pumped into her from behind caused her to snap her head up.

“No time for this foolishness?” He lifted his free hand and drew a thumb along her bottom lip.

Heat coursed through her veins. There was no misreading the invitation. Had he read her mind? He offered what she so desperately desired, a night of passion in the arms of a man who hungered for her. This man would demand more than she could afford—but suddenly wanted with every fiber of her being to give.

He pulled her an inch closer. She took the step haltingly. Amusement showed in the upturn of his mouth and he tugged her so near that her nipples came into contact with his warm chest. A tremor radiated through her. In all her planning, she hadn’t considered a man might steal her breath as well as rational thought. Heat crept into her face. She disengaged her arm from his grasp.

“Forgive me. I—” She faltered, unable to trust her ability to resist should he twitch even a muscle. “I fear I may have grossly misrepresented my position.”

He gave a low chuckle. “Most who attend these events misrepresent their position. That is the brilliance of the masque, Aphrodite, the night is ours.”

A jolt to her pussy drenched her folds. She took a step back only to find the awareness intensified when he countered by stalking closer. The prickle of the hedge against her back halted her retreat. He stopped a hair’s breadth from her. Scents of peony and juniper mingled with the dizzying scent of him, assailing her senses. Caroline tilted her head up. Moonlight glinted in the eye slits of his mask.

She drew a sharp breath when he bent and whispered a kiss on her neck. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You are beautiful.” He flicked his tongue against her beating pulse point. “I want to steal you away, but I will settle for having you here.” He cupped the back of her head, angling her mouth for a kiss. She parted her lips and his tongue glided along hers. A low groan rolled from his chest as he pressed the hard length of his cock against her abdomen.

“Having me?” Clutching fistfuls of his shirt, Caroline allowed her head to fall back.

“Yes,” he murmured, and blazed a trail of kisses along her jaw, down her neck, to the curve of her shoulder. He traced the swell of her breast, then found and pinched a beaded nipple.

She cried out. He tugged down her bodice, exposing a taut tip, then plucked the bud between his lips and gently bit.

“So sweet.”

“My lord,” she breathed.

He threaded his fingers through her wig. The wig shifted. Caroline jerked to shove it back into place, brushing her hip against his erection. He sucked in a breath and yanked up his kilt. She froze at sight of the full erection jutting towards her, as if begging her to take what she wanted. His warm fingers closed over hers and guided her hand downward, where he firmly wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

She startled at the velvety smoothness. He was so…she squeezed. Not rough or calloused—her heart raced—what had she expected? Caroline realized with a horrified start that she had no idea what to expect, and released him as if he were a snake. She flattened her palms on his chest in an effort to distance them and met the warmth of his sculpted torso.

“Good Lord.” She snatched her hands back.

He cupped her derriere, lifted her more intimately against his arousal, and rested his forehead against hers, their masks touching. “Let me touch you.”

Her pulse jumped. They were alone. Margaret believed she had fled the masque. What could a little touch hurt?

“Yes,” she whispered before she could change her mind.

He set her feet back on the ground, then slipped a finger beneath the dress and shoulder. Gooseflesh raced along her arms where his warm fingers touched her. She shivered. His gaze remained on her as he slipped the dress off her arms. The fabric dropped to her elbows, exposing both breasts.

Silence drew out between them. She trembled, but knew her reaction was fear and not the damp air that crept across her flesh. What had happened? Had he changed his mind? Caroline stiffened. Was she not beautiful enough? She lifted her gaze to find obsidian eyes staring from within the slits of the mask. He watched for another long moment, then lifted a hand and cupped a breast. She shuddered.

His mouth curved into a slight smile. “Do I please you, Aphrodite?”

Caroline was unable to utter a sound. He gave a low laugh, then bent and traced a circle around her nipple with his tongue. Cool night air chilled the places his hot mouth and tongue touched. She grasped his shirt. A woman’s moan of pleasure abruptly intruded on their solitude.

He straightened. Caroline yanked her bodice over her breasts. He pulled her close, sheltering her from view. Whispered words drifted towards them from the maze entrance.

“Bloody hell,” Caroline cursed.

He looked down at her. “Interesting vocabulary, my lady.”

She scowled. “Not nearly as interesting as our present position.”


There was no mistaking the laughter in his voice and Caroline narrowed her eyes with the intent to chastise him when the woman giggled.

Caroline jerked her gaze in the direction of the voices. “They are searching for a private nook.”

“I shall inform them that this particular nook is occupied.”

He started to turn and she seized his arm. “No!” The voices drew closer. “Good God.”

Caroline released him, and rearranged the sash. The bodice didn’t fit as snugly as it had earlier. She blew out a frustrated breath. “Do you think we will be discovered?”

“There is always a chance.”

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KyAnn Waters is a multi-published, award winning author of erotic romance. She lives in Utah with her husband and two children. Never believing she was a pet lover, she still has made a home for a menagerie of animals. She spends her days writing and her evenings with her family. She enjoys sporting events on the television, thrillers on the big screen, and hot scenes between the pages of her books.

Visit with KyAnn on Facebook at her website www.Facebook.com/kyannwaters and Twitter at www.twitter.com/kyannwaters. And share your boards with her on Pinterest at www.pinterest.com/kyannwaters

Find all of her books on www.amazon.com/author/kyannwaters

Thank you, KyAnn, for visiting and sharing. Sounds very good, and HOT!


stanalei said…
Whoa! What a great excerpt, KyAnn! Thanks for sharing it today.

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