Legend Of The Mist
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by Vicki Hinze
"…an amazing achievement. This book wrenches the heart, uplifts the soul, and fills the reader with a sense of wonder."— Susan Wiggs, bestselling author"Captures the reader's imagination. Scottish history as rich and heady as a robust wine." — Rendezvous Magazine
Catie Morgan's fallen in love with Jamie Cameron, a modern-day Scottish laird. Did she once love his lookalike twelfth-century ancestor? According to the diary that she may have written nine centuries ago, she disappeared into the Highland mists on the night of their wedding. In the present day, a murderer is determined to make certain history repeats itself.
She ran from the mist to the clear air near the fire and threw herself at him, planting kiss upon kiss to his jaw, his cheeks, his eyes, his neck. "Oh, Jamie. Jamie."
He lifted her to him. "Ye wear my colors," he said.
She laughed deeper. Because he was emotional and his Gaelic burr so thick she could barely understand him, she kissed him again and squeezed his broad shoulders. Her poor darling had probably worried himself sick after telling her to stay close to him—then her dozing off for a nap. "I'm all right. Really, I am. You can stop your worrying."
But truthfully, he didn't look worried. He looked dazed. "Ye wear my colors," he repeated.
"Aye, Jamie," she agreed, impatient to tell him she knew who had committed the murders.
"What is yer name, lass?"
"This is no time for humor. I'm trying to tell you that I know who killed—"
"I canna understand ye, lass. Is that English you're speaking?"
"It's me—Catherine. Don't you know me?"
"Cameron, I challenge."
Catie glared at the men walking toward them. "Excuse me, but I need to talk to Jamie in private."
"Who are ye, lass?" an old man asked.
"Catherine," she said. Why was everyone talking in Gaelic? Why couldn't Jamie understand English?
Jamie set her down to the ground. "Catherine, ye willna be rude to yer king. Apologize."
She frowned her confusion. A ribbon of fear wound up her spine, through her stomach and chest. "My—my king?"
Vicki Hinze is the award-winning author of 30 novels, 4 nonfiction books and hundreds of articles, published in as many as sixty-three countries. She is recognized by Who's Who in the World as an author and as an educator. For more information, please visit her website at vickihinze.com.
Buy on Amazon | Buy on Kobo | Buy on Barnes & Noble |Buy on Google | Buy on Apple
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by Vicki Hinze
"…an amazing achievement. This book wrenches the heart, uplifts the soul, and fills the reader with a sense of wonder."— Susan Wiggs, bestselling author"Captures the reader's imagination. Scottish history as rich and heady as a robust wine." — Rendezvous Magazine
Catie Morgan's fallen in love with Jamie Cameron, a modern-day Scottish laird. Did she once love his lookalike twelfth-century ancestor? According to the diary that she may have written nine centuries ago, she disappeared into the Highland mists on the night of their wedding. In the present day, a murderer is determined to make certain history repeats itself.
She ran from the mist to the clear air near the fire and threw herself at him, planting kiss upon kiss to his jaw, his cheeks, his eyes, his neck. "Oh, Jamie. Jamie."
He lifted her to him. "Ye wear my colors," he said.
She laughed deeper. Because he was emotional and his Gaelic burr so thick she could barely understand him, she kissed him again and squeezed his broad shoulders. Her poor darling had probably worried himself sick after telling her to stay close to him—then her dozing off for a nap. "I'm all right. Really, I am. You can stop your worrying."
But truthfully, he didn't look worried. He looked dazed. "Ye wear my colors," he repeated.
"Aye, Jamie," she agreed, impatient to tell him she knew who had committed the murders.
"What is yer name, lass?"
"This is no time for humor. I'm trying to tell you that I know who killed—"
"I canna understand ye, lass. Is that English you're speaking?"
"It's me—Catherine. Don't you know me?"
"Cameron, I challenge."
Catie glared at the men walking toward them. "Excuse me, but I need to talk to Jamie in private."
"Who are ye, lass?" an old man asked.
"Catherine," she said. Why was everyone talking in Gaelic? Why couldn't Jamie understand English?
Jamie set her down to the ground. "Catherine, ye willna be rude to yer king. Apologize."
She frowned her confusion. A ribbon of fear wound up her spine, through her stomach and chest. "My—my king?"
Vicki Hinze is the award-winning author of 30 novels, 4 nonfiction books and hundreds of articles, published in as many as sixty-three countries. She is recognized by Who's Who in the World as an author and as an educator. For more information, please visit her website at vickihinze.com.
Buy on Amazon | Buy on Kobo | Buy on Barnes & Noble |Buy on Google | Buy on Apple
by Vicki Hinze
"…an amazing achievement. This book wrenches the heart, uplifts the soul, and fills the reader with a sense of wonder."— Susan Wiggs, bestselling author"Captures the reader's imagination. Scottish history as rich and heady as a robust wine." — Rendezvous Magazine
Catie Morgan's fallen in love with Jamie Cameron, a modern-day Scottish laird. Did she once love his lookalike twelfth-century ancestor? According to the diary that she may have written nine centuries ago, she disappeared into the Highland mists on the night of their wedding. In the present day, a murderer is determined to make certain history repeats itself.
She ran from the mist to the clear air near the fire and threw herself at him, planting kiss upon kiss to his jaw, his cheeks, his eyes, his neck. "Oh, Jamie. Jamie."
He lifted her to him. "Ye wear my colors," he said.
She laughed deeper. Because he was emotional and his Gaelic burr so thick she could barely understand him, she kissed him again and squeezed his broad shoulders. Her poor darling had probably worried himself sick after telling her to stay close to him—then her dozing off for a nap. "I'm all right. Really, I am. You can stop your worrying."
But truthfully, he didn't look worried. He looked dazed. "Ye wear my colors," he repeated.
"Aye, Jamie," she agreed, impatient to tell him she knew who had committed the murders.
"What is yer name, lass?"
"This is no time for humor. I'm trying to tell you that I know who killed—"
"I canna understand ye, lass. Is that English you're speaking?"
"It's me—Catherine. Don't you know me?"
"Cameron, I challenge."
Catie glared at the men walking toward them. "Excuse me, but I need to talk to Jamie in private."
"Who are ye, lass?" an old man asked.
"Catherine," she said. Why was everyone talking in Gaelic? Why couldn't Jamie understand English?
Jamie set her down to the ground. "Catherine, ye willna be rude to yer king. Apologize."
She frowned her confusion. A ribbon of fear wound up her spine, through her stomach and chest. "My—my king?"
Vicki Hinze is the award-winning author of 30 novels, 4 nonfiction books and hundreds of articles, published in as many as sixty-three countries. She is recognized by Who's Who in the World as an author and as an educator. For more information, please visit her website at vickihinze.com.
Buy on Amazon | Buy on Kobo | Buy on Barnes & Noble |Buy on Google | Buy on Apple
