Eliza Knight's Blog, page 40

Happy 4th of July!

From all of us at History Undressed, we wish you a Happy 4th of July!!!

Some fireworks for you... (this video is from YouTube, but we did see them in person for the 4th about 4 years ago--Ah-mazing!)




And for a bit of history... If you have more time, here is about a 46 minutes worth of history!

Scotland Trip -- Day Two (Part 1)

Its been a long time since I posted about my first day in Scotland this past March... and I do apologize! Moving and deadlines took away from my "fun" time! I've missed History Undressed, and now that we're all moved in and mostly unpacked, I couldn't wait to get back and share with you the rest of my trip to Scotland! In case you missed it, or just want a refresher, I posted about my first day here.
After sleeping half the day away, we woke up to this... The view from our little cottage window in Inverness. Amazing! Picturesque! 
Another view...

More lovely landscape. Just below those mountains is water.

I love nature and the of it in simplicity. I took a lot of pictures of trees, landscapes, etc... because they help me to get the details right in books, but also provide me with a feel for the land, so when I'm writing, I can actually picture myself there. Plus, I just think its beautiful. Below are some pictures of woods near Kilvarock Castle, which we couldn't find!! We drove up and down the road and I think it must have been gated off. In early March a lot of the castles were closed. But it was still a win for me. We pulled over so I could take some shots of the woods.
Looks dark and mysterious. I could totally imagine one of my  Highlanders suddenly appearing from within the depths of shadows, or perhaps one of my heroines slipping unseen behind a tree trunk.
Love the lychen and moss on trees, so rustic and beautiful.
Brambles over a small hump in the ground that led into the woods.
Look at that! Isn't it just gorgeous and majestic?
Our car parked beside the woods :)
I stepped into the woods to get a better look around.
Me in the woods!After our trip to the woods, we wend to Brodie Castle -- we weren't able to go in because they were closed for the season, but we were allowed to walk the grounds--gorgeous!!!

Sign out front :)

A look at the castle from the main drive.
A pictish stone just outside the castle.
View of the castle. Isn't it beautiful? 
An arrow slit window. I could imagine a warrior standing behind the wall, his bow notched and ready to fire.
This is me beside a tree in the gardens. I couldn't get over how huge it was!
A closer look at the top of the castle. I love all the stone work, see the little  fleur-de-lis at the top of each window?
Loved this! And so many one-liners came to mind...
A view from the side of the castle.
More stone work. It always amazes me how well castles and buildings were built, and  that they still stand strong hundreds of years later.
A building behind the castle. It wasn't labeled, so we imagined at one time it could have been a stables or servants quarters.
A  pretty windmill on top of  the castle -- it was situated on a tiny stone tower.I hope you enjoyed this post on part of my second day in Scotland! I'll be posting the second part of day two on Friday!
Cheers,Eliza
Like Scottish romance? Check out my latest release: THE HIGHLANDER'S TRIUMPH
He was a warrior fighting for Scottish freedom... She was his enemy’s mistress.
Laird Brandon Sinclair has given his life to the Scottish cause. Swearing fealty to Robert the Bruce, he will stop at nothing to see oppression end.

Lady Mariana wants nothing more than to break free of the tyrannical hold the English king has on her. When he sends her to Scotland with a message for the rebels, instead of obeying his orders, she finds herself submitting to her desires. After one sizzling, life-altering night, Brandon and Mariana must part ways. But Mariana has no intention of betraying her heart again.

And Brandon is determined to get her back. Stealing Longshank’s secrets felt like victory, but taking his woman will be this Highlander’s ultimate triumph.
Amazon / Barnes and Noble

This is the fifth book in the Stolen Bride series. If you haven't already, check out the other books in the series!

Book One: The Highlander's Reward
Book Two: The Highlander's Conquest
Book Three: The Highlander's Lady
Book Four: The Highlander's Warrior Bride

How to Dance the Gay Gordons by Robert Bayley

Welcome to History Undressed, guest blogger, Robert Bayley, who's written an awesome post today on Scottish dancing! Enjoy and seriously, practice these moves! 
How to Dance the Gay Gordons Like a Professionalby Robert Bayley

So you want to dance the Gay Gordons? Right, laddies don your kilts. For lassies long skirts and flat shoes will see you through (heels are a no-no for Scottish country dancing – many a nasty injury has been had that way on the dance floor). If you don't have a kilt then dinnie worry you'll still have a great time dancing this old-time Scottish dance.
Let's get startedFirst off let's see how the professionals do it, dancing along to the Scottish Fiddle Orchestra.The key to this dance is getting the starting pose right with your partner. Ladies slightly to the front, right arm up holding your partner's hand that he rests on your shoulder. Left arm reaches across the front of the man to hold his right hand.
Then it's as simple as four steps forward, turn, and four steps back. Once again and then ladies, twirl under your man's arm using the pas de basque dance step for four bars. Or just hop around a little (no one will notice).  Finally polka for four bars, and repeat. Don't forget to call out 'whoop' to help whip the dancers into a frenzy of twirling tartan until you are all exhausted.
Put your dancing shoes on
The best place to dance the Gay Gordons is of course Scotland. There are plenty of ceilidhs in Edinburgh for visitors keen to try out their moves. There are also Scottish dancing societies all over the world, in fact where ever the Scottish diaspora has settled you'll find their music and dance. The Royal Scottish Country Dance Society has been going strong since 1923 teaching dance and keeping Scotland's rich cultural heritage alive. They have branches on every continent – so what are you waiting for? Get searching for your nearest shindig.
Once you've mastered the Gay Gordons, the only way is up. Luckily most ceilidhs will have a caller who will explain each dance before you get started and include a short walk through. Some of the most popular dances include Strip the Willow, the Dashing White Sergeant and the Eightsome Reel. As you can see not all of these are partner dances so you don't have to worry about finding someone to dance with. The best thing to do is just wander out onto the floor at the beginning and you're bound to find your way into a friendly group. Ceilidhs are for the most part very relaxed and welcoming and an invitation to dance is usually just that and nothing more - the more people on the floor the better after all. A small dram of whisky can help warm you up for a waltz but don’t worry if you don't drink. In fact if you're going to go the distance at a ceilidh the best thing you can do is keep well hydrated with water.
Who is this Gordon chap anyway?
The title of this dance actually refers to the Gordon Highlanders, a Scottish regiment famous for their hard won battles in India, Egypt and South Africa. It's no surprise that this band of brothers have a dance named in their honour. Since the regiment was raised in 1794 the role of music, especially the pipes and drums, has been central to their identity. The Gordon Highlanders are famous for bravely playing their comrades into battle, rousing their courage as well as creating fear in the hearts of their enemies.

What's your favorite Scottish dance? 

THE HIGHLANDER'S TRIUMPH! Out Now!

Happy Saturday! I can't believe it is June 15th already! Where did this year go???

I'm happy to announce that, THE HIGHLANDER'S TRIUMPH, the 5th book in the Stolen Bride series has released today on Kindle and Nook. Look for it soon in other ebook formats, print and audio!

Here's a peek inside...

He was a warrior fighting for Scottish freedom.She was his enemy’s mistress.
Laird Brandon Sinclair has given his life to the Scottish cause. Swearing fealty to Robert the Bruce, he will stop at nothing to see oppression end.
Lady Mariana wants nothing more than to break free of the tyrannical hold the English king has on her. When he sends her to Scotland with a message for the rebels, instead of obeying his orders, she finds herself submitting to her desires. After one sizzling, life-altering night, Brandon and Mariana must part ways. But Mariana has no intention of betraying her heart again.

And Brandon is determined to get her back. Stealing Longshank’s secrets felt like victory, but taking his woman will be this Highlander’s ultimate triumph.
Chapter One
Nearing spring, 1298Highlands, Scotland
Smoke filled Laird Brandon Sinclair’s lungs as he rode on horseback with his men toward the north of Kinterloch Village.High above the wooden wall, flames burst in hungry orange licks. A vengeful fire that would turn everything in its path to ash. The late afternoon sky was already overcast, but the smoke of the blaze made it nearly black.No villagers ran from the fire. No animals screamed. The chaos that should be erupting with the flames was non-existent—as if deserted. But he knew it couldn’t be. The people, the animals, were either trapped or had managed to get out from a different gate.The Scottish troops’ fearless leader, William Wallace, had already charged through the front gates into the inferno as if he were a man with a death wish. He’d ordered Brandon and his men to check the north side for survivors. Brandon’s cousin, Ronan Sutherland, had taken his warriors to the west side near the loch.Far from his castle and lands in the north of the Highlands, Brandon had traveled to Eilean Donan the month prior to help his cousins Daniel Murray and Ronan along with William Wallace and Robert the Bruce in the war against the English. But it seemed now it wasn’t only the English they were fighting—but traitor Scots too.A loud crash reverberated through the air as another building collapsed behind the wall. A rush of heat surged his way, and a cloud of dark smoke billowed into the sky, in stark contrast to the world around them, a peaceful, beautiful place with lush pine trees and gorse bushes, even in winter. Hell set in the middle of heaven.Doubt darkened his mood. There would be no survivors. Not in a raging inferno like this—one that rivaled Hades. He shook his head and spurred his horse forward. His chestnut colored warhorse, Checkmate, pounded the earth with his massive hooves.If only they’d been able to get to the village before Laird Ross—traitor to all Scots and their ancestors. The damned bastard had defected to the English, and since doing so, had laid a path of destruction across the Highlands. There wasn’t a man Brandon knew that hadn’t been affected by Ross’ treachery. Hell, it seemed like the man was on a mission to make enemies with everyone of true Scottish heart.Brandon’s thoughts were cut midway when they rounded the burning wall on the north side.“Halt!” he shouted to his men, reining in Checkmate.A woman burst through the wooden gate, exposing the interior angry flaming village. Hair black as a midnight sky, skin covered in soot. Her dark green gown was covered by a singed, once high-quality, wool cloak. She tripped, falling onto her hands and knees, coughing, yet she did not stop. The lass crawled forward, every move beleaguered in her attempt to escape the flaming village.Without a thought, Brandon jumped from Checkmate, and ran toward her.“Lass, are ye all right?”He knelt before her and she practically fell into his arms, her breath coming out in a rush against his face. Her eyes closed, then fluttered open. She grasped onto him with weak, trembling fingers.“Oh, monsieur…”French. Brandon quirked a brow, trying not to be completely infatuated with the way her words rolled seductively off her tongue. What was a woman of French descent doing in Kinterloch? The lass clutched at the front of his cloak and glanced up, hair falling onto her soot covered face. He swiped the strands away and was startled by a pair of lovely, sparkling blue eyes. The color of the sky on a cloudless summer day. Like blue diamonds. But they were filled with fear, pain.Brandon’s hands skimmed over hers—soft and small—then up her arms as he pulled her to standing. She wavered on her feet, and glanced around as if she expected the devil to burst from the earth and drag her down into the depths of his hellish domain.“Lass, ye’re safe now. Tell me, are ye hurt?”She shook her head, licked at her cracked, red lips. “No. I’m not hurt, other than my lungs—they burn with each breath.” Her voice was hoarse, as though just a tiny hint of air passed through her delicate throat.“Dinna speak then, if it pains ye.” Brandon’s hands slipped to her shoulders, automatically massaging the tense muscles there.The woman sagged against him, a few tears spilling from her eyes. “Thank ye.”Brandon wiped at her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Shh… I will ask ye a few questions, simply nod or shake your head. But first, tell me your name.”“Lady Mariana.”A name as pretty as a ballad. And she was a lady. He’d known that, and he suspected, though covered in soot, she was well off. Her cloak spoke of a high-quality fabric. He expected when she washed the grime from her hair it would shine, proof that it had been well kept. As it was the silken locks teased his skin and he longed to entwine his fingers within it. Where that desire came from, he didn’t bloody well know.“Lady Mariana, are ye alone?”She nodded, her eyes locking on his with what looked to be a suspicious glance, and a peek behind him at his men had her paling.“We’ll nay harm ye, lass. We’ve come to help.”She shuddered in his arms. “I promise no harm will come to ye.” Brandon made his assurance loud enough for all his men to hear. “Ye are under my protection. I’ll see ye to safety.”Mariana chewed her lower lip.Turning to a few of his men, he ordered, “Check to see if there are others.”The men nodded and urged their horses forward, checking the north gate, then moving beyond it and out of sight.“Were ye a guest?”Her eyes crinkled up as she studied his face. Having plenty of experience judging people’s expressions, he guessed she was trying to figure out how to answer.“I know ye’ve no cause to trust me, but I assure ye, I’d never see ye harmed. I am Laird Brandon Sinclair and I am one of Robert the Bruce’s men.”Her eyes lit up at that. “I trust ye.”Brandon didn’t expect the sudden constriction in his chest upon hearing those words. He was a little taken aback by it. In fact, he was a little taken aback by this entire encounter. Lady Mariana was eliciting a reaction that no other woman ever had. Unable to quite describe it, Brandon could only call it awe. He was attracted to her; she was beautiful, delicate, exotic. But beyond that, he had a fierce need to protect her. And he didn’t know why. He’d wanted to protect his cousins’ wives, women in his village, his mother, but never had he felt the fierce need to pull a woman close so that no other could get near her.It was almost possessive. And he needed to dismiss it with haste. His men made themselves still as statues behind him. Mayhap he should pass her on to one of the remaining retainers, just so he could get a breath of air without her scent—for indeed he could smell the sweet aroma of flowers beneath the smell of smoke. It was embedded in her hair, on her skin.He cleared his throat. “Well, good. I shall take ye to safety.”Brandon took a step, intent on leading her toward his horse, however, Lady Mariana’s legs were so shaky the simple task became labored. He swiftly pulled her into his arms, his muscles tightening at the feel of her supple curves.“Will ye allow me to take ye to Eilean Donan?”Mariana lowered her lashes, long black curly lashes that showed off the curve of her cheekbones. She nodded.“Verra well.” Brandon wanted to say something more charming, more comforting to a lass in such distress, but he could think of neither. Only that he never wanted to put her down—and how that made him want to toss her and run.A woman would only slow him down. He’d seen that very thing happen to his cousins—Magnus, Blane, Daniel, Ronan—all tied to a woman. Brandon didn’t ever want to deal with the fears that came with loving someone. He’d seen enough strife where love was concerned. His mother had not been a happy woman—save for when his own father passed.Brandon grunted, pushing those unhappy thoughts aside. He lifted Mariana onto the horse and then climbed up behind her, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her securely against him. Her body melded to his, warm and lithe. Her head fell back and she breathed out a ragged sigh. Brandon ground his teeth, willing his body not to react to the soft curves pressed to his—the full derriere that if he allowed himself, he could fully imagine sliding his hands over as passion gripped him.God’s teeth, it was going to be a long ride back to the castle. Even still, he pulled her closer, feeling the brush of her breasts on his arm. Blood rushed through his veins, ignoring his warnings, and centered in his groin. A long ride indeed.The heat of the flames washed over them in blistering waves. Sweat beaded on his brow and trickled down the sides of his face. How on earth was Wallace faring inside the blaze? Brandon blew out a breath and scanned the surrounding area. Beside the firs and pines, the trees were still winter bare, moss covering some of their trunks. He didn’t see a glint of metal or out of place movement. Part of him suspected that Ross sat in the shadows watching, waiting, probably even stroking himself with glee at the destruction he’d caused, but Brandon knew better. The bastard wouldn’t stick around. He’d hightail it to the next place he could barrel into and force a bed from.But beyond Ross and his minions having disappeared, the lack of villagers was beyond disturbing. He hoped that did not mean they’d all perished, yet another crime against his own countrymen Ross could add to his long offensive list. Brandon wasn’t the first in line to land a blow if the man were ever to be captured, but damn if he didn’t want to be.Despite the heat, Lady Mariana shivered. Brandon tightened his hold, wishing he could take away the fear that filled her. What a horror it must have been for her to be surrounded by fire within the village, to see one’s life threatened. A near daily occurrence for him, but he was a warrior, trained for such, she was a lady, used to soft, fine, nice things.Brandon tugged an extra plaid rolled behind his saddle and wrapped it around her shoulders, making sure to cover her legs.“I thank you, my laird.” Her voice was shaky, and he suspected she was on the verge of hysterics.“Who were ye staying with? Have they…” He trailed off not wanting to ask if they’d indeed succumbed to the flames.“I was staying with Sir Teirnan Barclay.”“Ross’ cousin,” Brandon growled. What the devil was she doing with him? Suspicion grew ripe in his mind.Mariana nodded, her head bumping his chin. She turned up to him, her eyes red-rimmed, but fierce. “Is he your enemy?”“Aye, Ross is my enemy.” A sudden thought occurred to him—was Mariana going to pull a hidden dagger from beneath her skirts and attempt to strike him? “I’ve no quarrel with Barclay, yet.”After having witnessed Lady Julianna’s fighting skills, he wouldn’t put it past a woman again to be fully equipped with a blade. Julianna was the Bruce’s half-sister and guardian—and his cousin Ronan’s love.Mariana nodded. “Ross is a bad man.”He didn’t know whether or not to be surprised by her words. “Why do ye say that, lass?”She gestured toward the fire. “All this.”“And Barclay?”She shook her head, folded her hands in her lap. Long slim fingers, pale skin. She wore a beautiful ruby and gold ring on her right finger, but none on the left. Brandon hoped that meant she didn’t have a husband waiting for her back in France—and he wasn’t sure what difference it would make. He had no intentions of…Of what?Dammit, he was supposed to be worried over the blaze, over the safety of the townspeople, the Scots. Not whether the woman in his arms was spoken for.“Tell me, lass. Does Barclay still live? I’ve need to hear who we’re fighting.”“Barclay is alive. He’s not a bad man in his own way. He’s a follower. Caved when Ross first raised his fist.”Just as the Bruce suspected. Barclay was afraid of Ross. Not many weren’t. Brandon and his cousins weren’t. The Bruce wasn’t. But that was because they’d already seen through the man. Knew they could beat him. Had been fighting against him for months. Others weren’t as willing to put their necks out when a man, half-crazed, showed up on their doorsteps and demanded cooperation or death. Brandon was fairly certain that was the stipulation. While Ross was gaining much from his alliance with Longshanks, the English king, he wasn’t one to pass it on to anyone else. Nay, Ross would hand out punishments if his wishes weren’t followed.“How long were ye here?”Mariana shook her head. “Not long.” Her voice was soft, but scratchy, a reminder of what she’d been through and Brandon’s previous promise that she didn’t have to talk.His own throat was starting to feel scratchy from the smoke blowing on the wind. The fire had already conquered at least half the village, and the spots where it still blazed showed no sign of relenting.Mariana coughed delicately, her shoulders quivering against Brandon’s chest. He resisted the urge to stroke his hands over the gentle curve of her shoulders. Instead, he managed to do the gentlemanly thing and pulled his waterskin from its place attached to his saddle.“Take a sip, lass.”Mariana turned her glorious blue eyes up to him, and gave a grateful smile. “My thanks, my laird.”Brandon gave a stiff nod. Wanted to tell her to call him by his name, but knew that would only seem odd to a lady he’d just met. She took hold of the waterskin, her cold fingers brushing his.“Ye’re cold,” he muttered.Mariana shook her head. “Just thirsty.” She drew the waterskin to her lips, wrapping their pink, plushness around the rim and taking a deep pull.Brandon’s mouth fell open and his eyes were riveted to the sight—a number of sinful thoughts running wickedly through his mind.“Thank you.” She handed him back the skin, her eyes starting to droop.“Are ye tired?” he asked, feeling as though he stated the obvious. Her lids were heavy, her face pale. The lass was completely worn out.Mariana nodded. “I feel so weak.”“’Tis from the smoke. Rest, lass. I will wake ye when we make camp.”Mariana wiggled in his lap—driving him crazy with the way her bottom hit his thighs and groin—until she found a comfortable position. She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes. How easily she found her ease in his arms. Brandon was stunned.Before he could think more on it, his men returned from their search, no villagers with them. Brandon frowned, his anger growing.“We saw no survivors, my laird.”Brandon gave a jerky nod, then turned his horse back in the direction they’d come. “Let us find the others.” If Wallace wasn’t back with Ronan and Julianna, then they might very well need to ride through the blazing village.Ronan and Julianna met them halfway. No signs of their enemy and no signs of survivors either.“Who is this?” Julianna asked Brandon.Brandon opened his mouth to speak, but Mariana roused and lifted her head. She stiffened, her back becoming straighter.“I am Lady Mariana,” she said with her silky accent.Odd how the sound of her tongue made Brandon want to pull her closer, touch her sensitive spots and hear her speak his name.Julianna frowned. “What are ye doing here?”“I was sent by His Majesty, King Edward.”Fire flashed in his cousins’ woman’s eyes, just as shock at her statement made his blood run cold. Longshanks had sent her? What in blazing ballocks was she talking about?“Put her down. ’Tis a trick! We just left several others. The fire was a trap to lure us in. There are archers and warriors hidden in the woods to the west—most likely all around us.” Julianna pulled her sword from her saddle.Brandon pressed his lips firmly down in a frown and glanced at Ronan with question. Julianna acted as though Mariana might attack them. The lass stiffened further in his lap and again he wondered if she had a hidden dagger. Despite her omission, his gut told him she was not his enemy and he tended to trust his instincts. They weren’t going to leave her out in the cold, or lynch her.If Ronan didn’t rein Julianna in, Brandon wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold his tongue. Normally, Julianna was more cautious, gave no signs of her true feelings, but now she was acting completely different. “Laird Sinclair, on behalf of my brother, your leader and future King of Scotland, I order ye to put the woman down. She is our enemy.”Mariana clutched her hands to Brandon’s chest, her cupid lips forming a bow full of fear. “My laird, please dinna let her hurt me,” she whispered.Ronan reached out a hand and laid it lightly on Julianna’s arm. The man certainly had patience when it came to his woman—and some sort of magical power. Julianna seemed to stand down.“What is your purpose, Lady Mariana?” Ronan asked, the voice of calm and reason.Brandon couldn’t help feeling like they were interrogating the poor lass. Couldn’t they see that she was struggling to breathe, to stay awake? Whatever her purpose, she wasn’t a danger to them now.Mariana shuddered. “I…I…” And the woman lost consciousness. Anger surged within Brandon. They’d scared her half to death.Julianna bristled.“We’ll take her with us. She can give us the information we seek,” Ronan said sternly. “Any sign of Wallace?” Brandon shook his head, his grip tight on Mariana. He’d vowed to keep her safe, and damn if he wasn’t going to see that vow through—even if he had to fight every man or woman to see it done.

Read the rest on Kindle!Read the rest on Nook!Looking for another eformat? 

How Highland Wolves Differ from Others at Highland Weddings By Terry Spear

Welcome back to History Undressed, guest author, Terry Spear! She writes hot Highlanders with a bite! Enjoy :)


How Highland Wolves Differ from Others at Highland WeddingsByTerry Spear
In medieval times, brides stood on the groom’s left so that he could easily get to his sword if anyone should attempt to steal his bonny bride. Some churches allow swords during ceremonies—saluting the couple as in military weddings, cutting the cake at the reception, but most grooms don’t wear swords to their own wedding. Unless maybe the party dresses up for a themed wedding.
That said, Highland wolves do things differently. They come armed. Sgian Dubh in stocking and sword at their belt. It’s a matter of pride and their heritage. Not only that, but some of the Highland wolf clans are still fighting. So it’s also a necessity.
Bride stealing? Sure, it even goes on today. It’s also known as marriage by abduction, marriage by capture, and bride kidnapping.
So if you want to protect your bride, better be prepared to fight for her!
At a traditional Highland wolf wedding in contemporary times, the men and boys all wear kilts. But the lassies are free to wear whatever they wish. Now, not all Highland wolves marry in a church. Wolves mate for life and they don’t feel the need to prove to anyone that they are bound to each for life. Unless the groom holds a title, or one of his brothers is first in line if he doesn’t have an heir. Then a marriage for the humans’ sake is necessary as in A Highland Werewolf Wedding.
Then again, sometimes a wolf gets mixed up with a human and then if the woman insists on having to be married—unable to see that wolves don’t need that human condition—a wedding will take place like in Dreaming of the Wolf. You never know when one wolf’s wedding will start a trend though, and others will want to follow suit.
So whether you're at a Highland wolf wedding, or slipping back to medieval times where marriage could be had by consent—no church ceremony necessary—by civil law—you were married.
The church considered them clandestine or irregular marriages if they were not done on the porch of the church no matter how publicly announced they were.
Wolves don't care about all that. Their matings are binding for life.
Just in case you needed to know. So if you mix it up with a wolfish guy, if you say I do to him, you'd better be prepared to make it forever.
With that said, who all is ready for A Highland Werewolf Wedding, some more of those hunky Highland werewolves, and a chance at a win of A Howl for a Highlander?
Tomorrow is the release day for A Highland Werewolf Wedding!!!
One lucky commenter has the chance to win a copy of A Howl for a Highlander, US or Canada address only.
ABOUT THE AUTHORBestselling and award-winning author Terry Spear has written over fifty paranormal romance novels and four medieval Highland historical romances. Her first werewolf romance, Heart of the Wolf, was named a 2008 Publishers Weekly’s Best Book of the Year, and her subsequent titles have garnered high praise and hit the USA Todaybestseller list. A retired officer of the U.S. Army Reserves, Terry lives in Crawford, Texas, where she is working on her next werewolf romance and continuing her new series about shapeshifting jaguars. For more information, please visit www.terryspear.com, or follow her on Twitter, @TerrySpear. She is also on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/terry.spear .
A Highland Werewolf WeddingElaine Hawthorn is a gray American werewolf, currently out of work, and on a mission to share in a family treasure. When she arrives in Scotland, she nearly has a head-on collision with one hot, kilt-garbed Highlander, and runs him off the road.
Werewolf laird Cearnach MacNeill isn't happy Elaine ruined his car, but he quickly becomes her protector after a misunderstanding lands her right in the middle of two feuding clans. Now he's out to ensure that this sexy female wolf gets her fair share of her clan's treasure. He knows he should leave well enough alone, but it's too late to leave his heart out of it.
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Amanda Scott on Highland Romance

Please join us in welcoming historical romance author, Amanda Scott to History Undressed today! She's sharing a bit about her books. Enjoy!


How do you get the idea for a novel? What is your writing process like? Could you give us an example of you got the idea for any or all of these three books: Dangerous Illusions, Highland Fling, Border Bride. My writing process varies from book to book, depending on what strikes chords in my imagination. Sometimes, I begin with a character. Other times, it's a particular setting that I want to use, like the Borders or the Highlands, or a castle with an interesting history. I think of the process itself as a sort of jigsaw puzzle. That's the same for every book. I find a piece here and another one there, and pretty soon they begin to add up to the outline for a story. Border Bride began with the idea of a lass from the Highlands marrying a powerful Border lord, simply because men's attitudes toward women were very different in the two areas. In the Borders, on both sides of the line, traditions and attitudes were similar. Not that Scotsmen could not generally insist on doing things their way all over Scotland, mind you, but few men in the rest of country felt as if they had a God-given right to order their women around. In sixteenth-century England, a woman had no legal standing except as her father's daughter or her husband's wife. Only widows who did not remarry had standing of their own. In Scotland, a woman had as much right as a man did to plead her case before a clan chief or laird, or the King for that matter. The King of Scots was just the chief of chiefs. Women could inherit wealth and titles in Scotland. They had many, many rights that Englishwomen did not have until the 19th or 20th centuries.So, I asked myself, what if a Highland lass accustomed to offering her opinions and receiving generally respectful hearing marries a Border lord accustomed to instant obedience of his every command, who will dismiss most of her opinions and react badly to defiance? And what if her father orchestrates the marriage to suit an agenda of his own and arranges things in such a way that she has little choice but to comply, despite the Scottish law protecting women from unwanted marriages? What if both main characters have fiery tempers? What if he has a secret and she knows what it is? What if revealing it could get him hanged for treason? What if it concerns Mary Queen of Scots? The "what-ifs" are always the fun part of the process. With Dangerous Illusions , the primary pieces were the Regency period and English versus Scottish laws pertaining to marriage, to women, and to children. In the case of children, there were literally no differences except that they were possessions of their fathers in England, just as wives were. In Scotland, wives had more rights, but children belonged to their parents, which generally amounted to the same thing as it did in England. The biggest difference was in what happened in cases of divorce, and that's what I chose to focus on for at least the first two books of the four-book series. But, having decided that much, I began to collect the pieces, and for Dangerous Illusions, I began at the Battle of Waterloo and the hero's 'meeting' with the heroine. After the battle, he finds a gilt-framed miniature of her near a dead soldier's body and decides to inform her himself of the man's death. Her family lives near his in Cornwall, and since his father and hers have not spoken for decades, the two of them have not met. What follows is a combination of mistaken identities, a bit of Romeo and Juliet, with a more sinister subplot that will lead to the second book and beyond.Of course, research always provides numerous pieces for my books, and Dangerous Illusions was no exception. The heroine's niece, Charlotte (Charley) is horse-mad, and it occurred to me that at the time I knew almost nothing about training horses or how women learned to ride sidesaddle. So, when the local libraries failed me (no Google yet), I called the Smithsonian, told them my problem, and an expert talked to me for about twenty minutes after having recommended two excellent books on the subject. I've used details from that conversation and those books in many other stories, too. As a result, I was able to make both Charley and her aunt sound as if they knew what they were doing and what they were talking about. The heroine of Dangerous Illusions is Daintry Tarrant. Tarrant is a Cornish name, and when I traveled to England and Wales Highland Fling actually began with a serendipitous, chance finding of three items at nearly the same time: a coffee-table size picture book at the University of California (Davis) library, detailing the River Thames through London in 1750 right down to shops on London Bridge, the steps from river to street level; a copy I bought of a fold-out, detailed drawing of London in 1750, showing the river and skyline behind it and including such details as individual houses (with their names) and garden layouts; and last but hardly least, the simple fact that Bonnie Prince Charlie had returned to London secretly in 1750 (having fled Britain after the '45) to persuade English supporters to stir up the whole conflict over the 'rightful' king again.That gave me one setting for the book, so it was a simple matter to decide that the heroine should be another Highland lass but one whose father had lost his land when the English surged into Scotland. The hero, naturally, would be the English lord who had acquired their land for his own service in defeating the Scots. Add a father who is making illegal whisky, mix with wonderful stories of how such men smuggled their product past English officers wanting to seize it, send the heroine to London to meet her hero Bonnie Prince Charlie to offer Highland support and get herself arrested in the process…Then, when the only name she knows in London is the beast who stole her father's land… =and there you are.In the process for any book, I do a detailed outline before I begin writing. I also, however, sketch out and write the first few scenes as soon as I know what they will be, and then I figure out what the other big scenes will be. I try always to write the big scenes as soon as I get a handle on them, because I find it easier to connect the dots, so to speak, if I know exactly where I'm going. The more road signs I can create for myself and my characters, the better and faster the work goes.
Leave a comment with your email address for your chance to win! One winner--ebook of your choice: Highland Fling, Dangerous Illusions or Border Bride!  About the Author
A fourth-generation Californian of Scottish descent, Amanda Scott is the author of more than fifty romantic novels, many of which appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Her Scottish heritage and love of history (she received undergraduate and graduate degrees in history at Mills College and California State University, San Jose, respectively) inspired her to write historical fiction. Credited by Library Journal with starting the Scottish romance subgenre, Scott has also won acclaim for her sparkling Regency romances. She is the recipient of the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award (for Lord Abberley’s Nemesis, 1986) and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in central California with her husband.

For more information on Amanda Scott’s novels, please visit the official website.

Macbeth: a smear campaign? by Thursa Wilde

Welcome back to History Undressed, Thursa Wilde! Today she's written another fun post for us--a bit of Shakespeare and a bit of history! Enjoy!
Macbeth: a smear campaign? by Thursa Wilde
We all know the story of the murderer with the ambitious wife, Shakespeare’s eponymous King in Macbeth.  But how much of the true tale can we extract from that misty history? Mac Bethad Mac Findlaích (anglicised as Macbeth, son of Finlaech) was born around 1005, grandson of Malcolm II of Scotland. He and Duncan were cousins, and Duncan, like the Shakespearian character, had two sons - Malcolm, who later became Malcolm III and Donalbane, later Donald III.
The Scottish Play calls him Thane of Cawdor, but the real Macbeth was Mormaer of Moray.  (Thane and Mormaer were both Scottish titles). It was from Holinshed’s Chronicles of England, Scotland and Ireland, published in 1577, that Shakespeare lifted the incorrect title. These chronicles are an ambitious account of history from earliest times, but aren’t always based on historical fact. They took earlier references from books like John Fordun’s Chronica Gentis Scotorum, (Chronicles of the Scottish People), written 1363-85, which contained accounts of angels, prophecies and Merlin among other ‘facts’. So either Holinshed’s invented the story of Macbeth and the witches, or a folk-myth developed in the years after Macbeth’s death which Holinshed’s picked up on, and Shakespeare later borrowed. Or maybe there is another reason.
The original decision was that succession to the Scottish throne would alternate between the male issue of the two sons of Kenneth MacAlpin, because of this unwise gambit the line of MacAlpin is littered with poisoned and stabbed bodies. However Malcolm II had been on the throne for 29 years when he decided on his heir, a long time for a Scottish monarch! He was a shrewd leader, and although he only had daughters he married them off to the heirs of families that might otherwise have caused him trouble. So his grandsons, Duncan and Macbeth, were next in line.  Malcolm chose Duncan, the elder of the two, as his heir.
Macbeth had in the meantime married the real Lady Macbeth, Gruach, the widow of his deceased cousin, Gillacomgain and granddaughter of Kenneth III; and Macbeth’s own distant cousin, as she was also Gillacomgain’s niece!  This family tree makes your head spin.
Gillacomgain is implicated in the killing of Macbeth’s father when Macbeth was around 15 years old and he had stolen the Mormaer title. About 12 years later Gillacomgain burned to death in a hall with fifty of his men, and Macbeth became Mormaer of Moray. We don’t know whether Macbeth, or his grandfather, Malcolm II, did the burning.  But you could say Gillacomgain had it coming.
With marriage Macbeth was now related to both branches of the MacAlpin line. This strengthened his position as heir to the Scottish throne. Make of that what you will!
King Malcolm died at Glamis Castle in 1034, allegedly of old age, though some annals say he was killed by his nephews. Duncan then became Duncan I of Scotland. Although his 5 year reign seems mostly peaceful, his nickname was An t-Ilgarach, meaning ‘the diseased’ or ‘the sick’. It is recorded that Macbeth was Duncan’s Dux, or Duke, a highly influential position near the king.
In 1039 the Northumbrians attacked Strathclyde and Duncan retaliated against Durham, but this apparently went badly and he retreated north to find himself in another battle in Moray against his own Macbeth, who must have been plotting an overthrow in his absence, and seemed to have much support. Duncan was not killed in his bed at Glamis Castle as the play suggests, but on a battlefield by Macbeth and an army of Scotsmen. Duncan’s wife and young sons fled into exile.
Macbeth ruled from 1040-1057. According to the Prophecy of Berchan Macbeth is described as ‘a generous king’. In a historical narrative poem, Duan Albanach (Song of the Scots) he is referred to as ‘Mac Bethad the renowned’. So there is no evidence to suggest that he is unpopular, and a seventeen-year rule is good innings. Around 1050 he undertook a pilgrimage to Rome. No one tried to overthrow him in his absence so we can presume his reign was a peaceful one. That is until Malcolm, son of Duncan showed up. 
In 1052 Macbeth must have annoyed Edward the Confessor, King of England, when he gave shelter to some Norman noblemen, because Edward began a long war with Scotland which resulted in Malcolm meeting Macbeth in 1057 on a battlefield in Lumphanan and fatally wounding him. (There’s a pub there now called the Macbeth Arms!) Some historians think that England was behind a plan to re-instate Malcolm on the throne, which might explain why negative propaganda about Macbeth grew up. A popular monarch would need sullying to justify the takeover.

Although old texts do differ about events, there is no supporting evidence that Macbeth and his wife were serial killers. So where did Holinshed’s get their information? Did the English King do a deal with Malcolm, exiled at his court, and was Macbeth’s reputation destroyed as a result? You know what those scheming English are like.
Thursa Wilde is a writer and member of the support team at Highland Titles. Highland Titles sells plots of Scottish land to people all over the world, many of whom have an affinity with Scotland and Great Britain.

A ‘Biased’ View of 1930s Fashions by Afton Locke

Today on History Undressed, I'd like to welcome guest author Afton Locke! She's written a fun post on 1930's fashion. Enjoy!
Rose, Exposed - A ‘Biased’ View of 1930s Fashions
Thank you for hosting me today. I’m excited to discuss 1930s fashions and my recent release, Rose, Exposed, a multicultural historical erotic romance set in the 1930s.
This post is part of the official Rose, Exposed Blog Tour (3/26 - 4/09).         
The grand prize for the tour is vintage-style rose earrings for pierced ears (U.S. shipping address only). To be eligible, COMMENT on this post. Comment should include the historical time period and geographical setting (when and where) you’d most like to see in a romance.
The tour winner will be announced at http://www.aftonlocke.com/RoseExposedTour.html on April 11th.



A ‘Biased’ View of 1930s Fashions
When I wrote Rose, Exposed, clothing was a big part of my research. I don’t pay a lot of attention to clothes in the first draft. I’m too busy getting down the plot, dialog, and love story. My characters are so eager to get the clothes off they don’t want to be slowed down. During the polishing stage, however, I consider a lot of factors when dressing my characters -- time period, setting, climate, socioeconomic status, personality, plot, and color symbolism.
For my current release, I dressed my hero in simple work clothes because he does physical labor for a living. I emphasized his earthiness with tan homespun and green fabrics. My heroine is in a higher social class but her parents are strict and old-fashioned. Accordingly, I dressed her in nicer fabrics with conservative styles. Because her name is Rose, I made the first dress she appears in a rose print.
Undergarments and hosiery go hand-in-hand with clothing because some can’t be worn without the other. The fact that Rose hates stockings and rarely wears them added to her character. Underwear was a struggle for her too. She went from wearing old-fashioned bloomers to sometimes none at all, enhancing the theme of having her secret exposed.
When I research clothing, I consult a reference book on my bookshelf, which has fashion illustrations for various time periods for men and women. I also use Google’s Images feature a lot. Finding just the right look gives me ideas and helps me visualize what I want. I look at several old sewing patterns and vintage clothes on eBay.
Of all the garments in this book, I had the most fun with evening gowns. While women’s fashions in the 1920s and 1940s tended to form straight lines, dresses and skirts in the 1930s flared from and draped around the body, created beautiful feminine curves. When a woman spins around, the dress cascades around her in a beautiful swirl. The secret to this is cutting fabric on the bias. If I weren’t a life-long seamstress, that research fact might have sounded Greek to me, so I’ll illustrate it for everyone.
Fabric is woven, so it has both vertical and horizontal grains (warp and weft) at right angles to each other. In clothing, the vertical grain goes straight down your body, from collar or waistband to hem. Go to your closet and select a shirt. Try grabbing a piece of the fabric and another piece a couple of inches below it. No give, right? It’s as strong as steel. Try it horizontally and you get the same thing. Now try it with diagonal points and the fabric magically stretches. This is the bias.
Today, sewing patterns with ruffles specify cutting the piece on the bias. The stretch makes the fabric more elastic, allowing a narrow hem to be formed along the curved edge of the ruffle. Even then, sewing a perfect ruffle hem is tedious.
In the 1930s, especially, entire skirts or dresses were cut on the bias. Pattern pieces are printed with lines on them that you match to the grain of the fabric. For a straight skirt, picture the line going straight from top to bottom. For bias skirts, put that line on a 45 degree angle. The following illustration shows a pattern piece on a piece of fabric for each. Solid arrows represent the grain line, and the dashed line is the center line of the garment. The crosshatch shows the weave of the fabric.


Fabrics suited for these fluid evening gowns, as shown in the illustration below from left to right, include: chiffon, crepe-de-chine, silk, and satin.


To read more about the bias cut and 1930s fashions, see:http://www.fashion-era.com/stylish_thirties.htm

Rose, Exposed


Publisher:  Ellora's Cave PublishingRelease Date:  27 March 2013eBook ISBN #:  978-14199-45205Buy eBook:  http://www.ellorascave.com/rose-exposed.htmlStay tuned for reviews and more: http://www.aftonlocke.com/Rose.html
Video/trailer :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bT9x9-Hlhw&feature=youtu.be(I love creating trailers for all my books!)
Blurb When Leroy Johnson gets promoted at the new oyster plant on Pearl Point, all he cares about is working hard. When he meets the flirtatious artist Rose Wainwright, however, nothing matters except getting her to the altar and into bed. Healing from a recent loss, he’s not about to let her go too.
Because Rose’s strict, social-climbing father doesn’t approve of dark-skinned Leroy, they court in secret anyplace they can find. Although Leroy’s raw passion can convince her to do almost anything, why can’t he understand she needs freedom, not marriage?Her father wants her to be white, but Leroy wants her to be black. Playing both sides of the fence leaves this young biracial beauty exposed in more ways than one.
Excerpt (modified) Rose, Exposed - Copyright © AFTON LOCKE, 2013 - All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
“You’re so…dark,” she exclaimed. Instead of the disdain he expected, he heard fascination.
Come on, lady. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a colored man before.
“Yes, I’m dark,” he agreed as he politely removed her hand, “which is why it’s not a good idea for us to sit alone together in this car. Someone might come along and jump to the wrong conclusion.”
A conclusion that could get him beat up or worse with the Klan close by on Oyster Island.
But before he could stop her, she clasped both sides of his face and pressed her sweet mouth to his. Aw, hell. A man only had so much self-control, and she’d just shattered his. Unable to stop himself, he plundered her delicate mouth. Her lips reminded him of rose petals, and he sucked the sweetness out of them as if he were a bee. The more he tasted, the more he wanted.
She opened, giving him access to her even sweeter tongue. Taking a big breath, he pulled away from her.
“We can’t do this. You’re white.”
She looked down at her upturned palms. “Then I really do look white?”
Leroy frowned. “Aren’t you?”
For the first time, her smile disappeared, making him shiver in his wet clothes. “The truth is, I don’t know what I am. I suppose that’s why I took this foolish drive.”
She must be biracial then, he realized, and not forbidden after all. The thought made him want to dance on the hood of the car. She still looked white, though. If he didn’t have the time to court a girl his own color, he sure didn’t have any for a complicated one like this.
“Kiss me again,” she demanded.
Without waiting for him to answer, she locked her hot, damp mouth on his again and tugged hard on his shoulders. Before he knew it, he was on top of her on the front seat. He wished her dress weren’t so thin when long, slender legs shifted restlessly under his. Dizzy with the scent of rain and her, he froze.
At that moment, nothing mattered except having her. He didn’t care if the entire Klan showed up, knocked on the window and caught him making love to her. It had been too damn long since he’d had a woman. He needed to stop this while he still could.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?” Lust had turned his voice into a husky croak.
She laughed and touched his face again. “I don’t know. What am I asking for?”
This girl was crazier than he’d first thought. What if someone less honorable than himself had stopped instead? She could’ve been raped.
“A whole lot of trouble.” He sat up. “Look, this is not the time or the place. Now let’s get you home.”
The sooner he could be rid of her—before she derailed him from his job, family, and everything else that mattered—the better.

WIPs Coming Soon
Rose, Exposed is the sequel to Plucking the Pearl , an interracial historical erotic romance.http://www.aftonlocke.com/pearl.html
I have two more books planned for the Oyster Harbor series. Next up for romance are Sadie and Henry.
In addition to interracial/multicultural historicals, I also plan to keep writing erotic contemporaries. Can an older woman find love with a hot male stripper? My current WIP, Two Hours to Entice , will answer that question.

Where readers can find me
I will be attending EC’s RomantiCon Oct 10-13, 2013 in Canton, Ohio - http://ecromanticon.com/:Don’t miss the book signing on Oct 13th. I’m also hosting a Fabulous Fusion workshop with Koko Brown and Eve Vaughn to celebrate interracial erotic romance for EC’s Fusion line.
Web site: http://www.aftonlocke.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/afton.locke
Twitter: http://twitter.com/aftonlocke
Newsletter - The Love Chronicle: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thelovechronicle/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3159922.Afton_Locke
Café au Lait Book Club: https://www.facebook.com/groups/cafeaulaitbookclub/

Video of the Week: The Borgia Family Song

I've been under the weather... caught whatever horrid stomach flu my princesses had... Promise to post more of my Scotland trip when I recover! In the meantime, here is a video from one of my fav shows, Horrible Histories...

Scotland Trip -- Day 1 in Edinburgh

Well, I've been home not quite a week, but its taken me this long to get back into some semblance of normalcy after being away for about 9 days.

My dear friend, Andrea and I, went on a lovely voyage to Scotland! It was a fun, adventurous experience, and I'm going to share with you all my pics from each day we were there!

We took an overnight flight, landing in Edinburgh Saturday morning. Having slept a few hours, and being pumped full of tea and adrenaline, we grabbed our rental car and hit the road. (Forgot to add this--when I got into the car, I totally freaked! There was no D for Drive!!! Had to have the guy come over to show me that A was the slot to put the gear in. A for Automatic! LOL, it was looking pretty precarious before that!) After nearly going into a round-about the wrong direction, and making a 36-point turn after turning into a parking lot on the wrong side, we finally made it to our first stop--Edinburgh Castle.

Here is a pic I took near the parking area looking up at the castle. At this point adrenaline was still pumping, but the thought of climbing up made our legs a little weak...
The walkway from the parking lot to the castle is called--Castle Terrace.
Another view of the castle from the walking path.
See the whole in the wall? I zoomed in on this. This could have two uses--a toilet, or a spot to drop boiling water or oil on enemies. I was certainly glad to be a visitor in this era.
A view of the castle from below. Can you imagine warriors climbing these rocks? It was incredibly steep. If they fell, they would most likely not survive. We were amazed by this, because in truth, men did climb this mountain and take possession of the castle during the War for Scottish Independence.
We finally made it to the top. This is a view of the town below, mountains and water in the distance. Just a beautiful, amazing sight. My breath was taken away (not just from the climb).
This is me outside the gate to the castle. I'm looking a little worse for wear after traveling over twelve hours, but I'm still super excited to be there!
A statue of William Wallace outside the castle gate.
A statue of Robert the Bruce outside the gate. We studied the for several minutes before realizing the one with the crown was the Bruce.
I love doors and this one was nearly twice as tall as me!
Through the gate, I had to take a pic of the portcullis, but you can barely see it. Lots of visitors that day!
This is the Scottish National War Museum. It had beautiful stained glass and looked like a castle himself.
The great hall. Look at that amazing ceiling.
A closer look at the hearth, some suits of armor, and a doorway that would have led the king or noble away from the great hall.
Queen Mary's chair
Figures of Robert the Bruce being crowned.
In addition to loving doors, I also love stairs :)
The front figures are Queen Mary being prepared to be crowned at 9 months of age. The figure in the back is Mary grown up--it said she was nearly six feet tall as an adult! An imposing woman, no wonder her cousin Elizabeth was afraid of her.
Yes, we did have to climb into the boxes to take pics, lol

This fascinated me! A cemetery for soldier dogs.
After leaving Edinburgh, I didn't take any more pictures... We had a three hour drive north to Inverness where we'd rented a flat, and believe me delirium was starting to set in as well as darkness. We took a tour through the Blair Castle area at night in search of a bathroom--no rest stops or gas stations to be found. However, we did discover a 20-pence toilet! And we were lucky to have a 20-pence coin! The town was eerily quiet and empty. Not a soul in sight. A little creepy.

We arrived at our rented flat around 8:30 that night, and then drove for another hour -- passing the same Chinese take-out 6 times--before we found a Tesco to buy some food. We were too exhausted to eat out as we'd been awake for over 24 hours with just a little nap. I was so excited they had a ready-made Moroccan cous-cous and vegetable samosas. Yum! Not exactly Scottish, but food music to this vegetarian's ears. Oh, and we met a very handsome young lad who topped-up our UK cell minutes, and then asked us why on earth we'd ever travel to Scotland on holiday. He thought we should be somewhere warm. But honestly, the weather was better than where we'd come from.  Both of us passed out on the big cushy chairs in our living room, and we slept until 11:30 the following day, lol! I haven't slept in that late since college!

Will post more pics of our second day of adventuring, tomorrow!

Cheers!
Eliza