It’s a pleasure to be participating in the blog
tour for author Lecia Cornwall’s latest novel, BEAUTY AND THE HIGHLAND BEAST,
which officially went on sale Tuesday (June 21) from St. Martin’s Press,
Swerve.
BEAUTY AND THE HIGHLAND BEAST is the first book in Lecia's Highland Fairy Tale series and a
retelling of Beauty and the Beast with a balance of humor, Scottish charm,
historical detail, and deep emotion. You can join in on the fun conversation on
Facebook and Twitter @SMPRomance.
Dair Sinclair was once the
favored son of his powerful Scottish clan, the Sinclairs of Carraig Brigh. With
Dair at the helm, Sinclair ships circled the globe, outwitting the British Navy
and bringing home a king’s fortune with every cargo. But after a thwarted
mission ends with Dair tortured by English marauders and forced to witness the
murder of his beloved cousin, Dair returns home a broken man, and becomes known
as the Madman of Carraig Brigh.
When a pagan healer predicts that only
a virgin can heal his son’s body and mind, Dair’s father ventures out to seek a
wife for him. At the castle of the Fearsome MacLeods, he meets Fia MacLeod. One
of twelve lovely MacLeod daughters, quiet Fia has always been overprotected by
her family due to a childhood accident that left her with a limp.
But Dair’s father quickly discerns Fia’s talent for healing
wild creatures. While she is certainly not the kind of bride he wants for his
son, he asks Fia to come to Carraig Brigh to heal his son. Although Fia fears
Dair at first, she soon discovers that beneath his rage and his scars, Dair is
a strong, kind man – and as she begins to heal his soul, she finds her own
strength as well.
BEAUTY AND THE HIGHLAND
BEAST
A Highland Fairy Tale
By: Lecia Cornwall
Pub Date: June 21, 2016
ISBN: 9781250111616
Price: $3.99
Now here’s an excerpt from BEAUTY AND THE HIGHLAND BEAST
for your reading pleasure.
How had the
Sinclairs heard of Moire? She was a humble soul. She kept to herself, tended
the ancient spring of the goddess, and helped only those who came to her. Fear
numbed the icy blast of the wind as she stared up at Carraig Brigh’s bony
tower, a crooked black finger rising from a solid fist of rock.
“Ye’ve made a
mistake,” she whined as they rode under the iron teeth of the gate. “I’m naught
but a simple midwife.” No one listened, and the wind carried her pleas over the
edge of the cliff and drowned them in the bay below.
In the bailey,
men stood in the light of gale-thrashed torches. There wasn’t a friendly face
among them, or a word of welcome.
Someone hauled
her off the garron, kept hold of her arm as he propelled her across the bailey.
The portcullis fell with a metallic squall that ended on a human note, a wail
of pure agony that floated down from the tower and made Moire’s innards curl
against her backbone. The clansmen shifted uneasily, crossed themselves, and
turned their eyes up to the narrow window high above them. Moire’s escort
grabbed a torch from the nearest man as he opened an iron-studded door and
pushed her up the steps inside.
“Do you truly
have magic, old woman?” he asked. “You’d best hope you can conjure a cure.”
She stumbled. A
witch. They thought they’d summoned a witch.
“A midwife, just
a midwife,” she protested again, panting. The curving stone steps were steep,
but he gave her no time to catch her breath. Her old legs were no match for his
long, muscular ones. She scrabbled at his sleeve. “Please, there’s been a
mistake.”
“There’s no
mistake, Moire o’ the Spring. ’Tis you and no other we were sent to fetch. The
chief would summon the devil himself if he thought it could save his son.”
“What’s wrong
with him?” she found the courage to ask.
He grunted.
“Have ye heard of Jean Sinclair?”
“Aye, of course.
The lass they called the Holy Maid of Carraig Brigh,” Moire replied.
“That’s her. She was Alasdair Og’s cousin, the
chief’s niece. Padraig wasn’t pleased when she decided to take holy orders and
shut herself away in a French convent.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “’Tis a
sad tale. They set sail from Sinclair Bay and put in at Berwick for the night,
only to be ambushed by English soldiers. Alasdair Og thought there’d been a
mistake, that they’d been taken for pirates, perhaps, or kidnapped for ransom.
He imagined it would be a matter of a few days’ delay, an exchange of coin, and
they’d be on their way again. But they didn’t bother themselves about ransom.
They took the gold Alasdair Og was carrying right enough, and the goods, and
the ship, and they murdered his crew. Then they beat Alasdair Og half to death,
and threw him and Jean into the dungeon of Coldburn Keep.”
Moire put a hand
to her throat, a shiver racing up her spine.
“Worst of all
was what they did to poor wee Jean. They raped her, tortured her, then murdered
her in front of Alasdair Og. He was chained to the wall, could do nothing to
help her. She pleaded with God for help. She was just a slip of a girl. They
said if she was Catholic and a Highlander, then she was no better than an
idolatrous witch. ’Twas hatred—not just for the Scots, but for Alasdair Og in
particular. They called him a pirate, blamed him for things that had nothing at
all to do with the Sinclairs. It wasn’t wee Jeannie’s fight—Alasdair told them
that, but they wouldn’t listen. He lay in his own filth for a fortnight,
chained, wounded, and listened while they beat her, broke her bones, tormented
her. They kept him alive to hear her screams.”
“And then?”
Moire asked.
The man
grimaced. “They hanged her as a heretic in the courtyard, forced Alasdair to
his feet, made him stand at the window and watch.” He stared down at her from
the step above. “He can’t forget any of it. That’s why they call him mad—he has
nightmares, feels constant pain, and starts at shadows. Can you help him?”
She blinked. Did
the holy maid haunt Alasdair Og Sinclair? Perhaps it was the devil’s work after
all. Moire knew little of the Christian God, either Catholic or Covenanter. She
followed the ancient goddess, tended her sacred spring . . .
Another guttural
scream came from the top of the tower. Moire shrank against the cold stones of
the wall and made a sign against evil.
Her companion took
hold of her arm again. “Come on.” He opened a door at the top of the steps,
dragged her through it. The room was nearly dark, lit by a single
candle—expensive beeswax—and the dull glow of a brazier in the corner. The
sweet scent of the candle mixed with the dark stink of old blood, corruption,
and sweat. It was a smell Moire knew. It meant illness far beyond her ability
to heal, and death.
If
you’d like to find out more about this fascinating new novel, visit the
following blogs participating in the BEAUTY AND THE HIGHLAND BEAST blog
tour.
Tuesday,
June 21
Deanna
Drey's Library - http://dreyslibrary.com
The Jeep Diva - www.thejeepdiva.com
The Romance Studio - http://theromancestudio.info
Wednesday,
June 22
Babbling
about Books and More - www.kbgabbles.com
Smitten by Books - http://smittenbybooks.com/blog
Reading Lark After Dark - www.readinglarkafterdark.blogspot.com
Thursday,
June 23
Hott
Books - www.hottbooks.com
Book Reviews & More by Kathy - www.bookreviewsandmorebykathy.com
The Book Cellar - www.thebookcellarx.com
Friday,
June 24
Polished
Bookworm - http://polishedbookworm.com
The Romance Dish - http://theromancedish.com
Saturday,
June 25
SOS
Aloha - http://sosaloha.blogspot.com
Mary Gramlich (The Reading Reviewer) -
marygramlich.blogspot.com
RebeccaBookReview - rebeccabookreview.wordpress.com
Sunday,
June 26
From
the TBR Pile - http://fromthetbrpile.blogspot.com
Monday,
June 27
I
am, Indeed - http://iam-indeed.com
Romancing the Readers - http://romancingthereaders.blogspot.com
Buried Under Romance - http://buriedunderromance.com
Tuesday,
June 28
Ramblings
From This Chick - ww.ramblingsfromthischick.com
 |
| Author Lecia Cornwall |
Thanks
so much for stopping by today. I hope this excerpt has enticed you to check out
Lecia’s latest release. Do you like having new twists added to classic fairy
tales?
now does not that cover look nom!
ReplyDeleteUnique twist on an old tale.
ReplyDeleteThe Scottish Highlands setting is really appealing here, Mason! And it is interesting to see how that old fairy tale is woven in. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteWitnessing that kind of torture would make anyone mad.
ReplyDeleteSometimes a reworked classic with a few extra twists thrown in make the best stories!
ReplyDelete