When the infamous King Richard dagger is stolen from Highland chief, Dugald MacKerrick, he will do whatever it takes to reclaim it, even abduct the wife of the aristocratic thief, but what if his beautiful French hostage isn't who he thinks she is? Deep in the rugged Scottish Highlands, Dugald discovers not only is his captive, Camille Bouchard, more than he expected, so is the passion raging between them, threatening everything he thought mattered to him.

Excerpt
Morning was just starting to dawn as he slipped around the inn and into the side servants' entrance. Though 'twas difficult for a man of his tall size, he moved stealthily up the stone staircase and along the corridor where the guest rooms were. 'Haps he was daft to kidnap his own sister, but if Alec would not return his treasure, he would take Alec's. 'Twas the only leverage he had. Aye, his sister would be angry, but if Alec was truly a whoreson and thief, why would his sister wish to marry him?
When a door opened, he hid in the window alcove behind the drapery.
"The chief wishes you to hurry, Lady Lindsay," the soft female voice urged. "He sent me to fetch you."
Lady Lindsay? Dugald frowned and peered from behind the plaid material and down the corridor. All he could see was a drab-clothed maid waiting before an open door, then she disappeared inside. More maids rushed out of the room, carrying various small trunks. He drew back and watched them trot down the stairwell. Aye, obviously the whole of the Lindsay party was in an unnatural rush, all because Alec and Angus wished to escape with Dugald's dagger. Thieves and cowards, the lot of them.
He peered out from behind the curtain again. Though the corridor was dim in the dawn light, he could easily see the short, blond woman, wearing a dark cloak with the cowl over her silk gown. Lady Lindsay, herself. Saints, she would be even better leverage than Mairiana! Of a certainty, the chief would want her back, and he would find the thief with all haste in order to return the dagger. Dugald's muscles tensed as she walked past his hiding place. Now was his chance.
Silently approaching Lady Lindsay from behind, Dugald gently but firmly clamped his hand over her mouth, lifted her and carried her quickly down the narrow servants' stairs toward the side exit. Amid muffled screams, she kicked and elbowed him. What a fiery hellion! Though he hated to terrify her and use her for leverage, he had little choice.
"Stay calm," he whispered in her ear, anticipation rampaging through him. "I won't hurt you." He glanced behind himself. Thank the saints no one was about.
Once outside, he ran with her, along the side of the inn and across the street to the livery stables where his clan's horses were saddled and waiting. She was a wee, light thing but she struggled hard, her elbows jabbing into him.
"Come." He motioned some of his men behind the tavern next door.
"Chief?" Owen asked, wide-eyed as he took in Dugald's captive. "What the devil?"
"Help me with her. Tie a gag in her mouth," Dugald demanded, his heartrate and breathing elevated. "But don't hurt her."
"Are you certain this is wise?"
"I don't need you acting like Tòmas," he snapped. "This is the only way to get the dagger back."