Excerpt: 'Mad, Bad and Dangerous in Plaid' by Suzanne Enoch

Suzanne Enoch shares a favorite scene from her new release, Mad, Bad and Dangerous in Plaid.

Suzanne: You know the story: Little girl grows up traipsing after the neighbor boy, her head full of imaginings about their first kiss, their marriage, their entire life together. But when she turns 18 the girl realizes that the boy has always seen her as a kid with pigtails and skinned knees, and he always will. So she moves on. But this is a romance, and it has Highlanders, so when the girl returns to Scotland after a Season in London, she brings admirers with her. That's the moment the boy finally begins to see that the girl with pigtails isn't a child, any longer, and that he might have made a huge mistake. And if correcting that mistake takes some kissing, a couple of brawls, some groveling, and thrashing his rivals in a version of the Highlands games, well, he is a Highlander — one falling in love with a Highlands lass he's known his entire life.

EXCERPT

Before she could pull her hand away he grabbed her wrist, holding her against him. "I know ye still like me, Rowena, and I know ye're only trying to make me jealous by kissing that dainty fop."

"He's not a fop. He's just fashionable. Something about which you know nothing." She tugged, but his grip was like iron. Other people said Lachlan had a temper, but she'd honestly never seen it. Not directed at her. "I'm not trying to do anything to you," she continued, finally looking up to meet his lush green gaze. "Eighteen years of being ignored and laughed at is long enough. Now let me go."

"I'll nae have ye looking at me like I'm nae a man," he said in a lower tone, unmoving. "Like ye can blink yer pretty eyes and I become invisible. Ye can decide ye dunnae want me, but it'll nae be because ye've decided I dunnae exist." He glanced past her, where she'd been perched watching him flirting with Jane. "Because ye're only pretending ye dunnae like me, Rowena. And I know it."

With a twist of his hand he yanked her up against him. She gasped, and his hard, warm mouth closed over hers. He wasn't gentle at all, but then he was a Highlander born and bred. He wasn't gentlemanly or shiny like any of the men who'd followed her north to Glengask. Power, passion, anger – Rowena closed her eyes at the sheer force of him. Lachlan MacTier, kissing her. Devouring her. And just for that moment, she wanted to be devoured.

Abruptly he pushed her away, setting her on her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. "Now pretend I'm invisible," he murmured, straightening. Rowena stood there in the ruins of castle Muldoon and stared at him. If this had been a year ago – three months ago, even – she would have been… Well, it wasn't three months ago, was it? It was today, and she had other plans.

"I see you just fine," she stated, and slapped him as hard as she could. "No, you're not invisible. And you're not nearly as charming as you think you are. Go away, Lachlan MacTier."

A red mark shaped like her hand began to appear on Lachlan's tightly-clenched jaw, though he hadn't bothered acknowledging the hit. "Very well," he drawled. "But this isnae over with, Rowena." He flashed a surprising grin. "Now ye've made it interesting."

He turned on his heel, and after a moment the sounds of Lachlan and his horse faded into the mist. Around her the trees whispered, and she could almost believe the broken grounds and tragic Lady Teàrlag were speaking to her. And from what she knew of Lady Teàrlag, they were in complete agreement about the deserved fate of flirts and philanderers.

She was not about to fall into the same trap again. Not when she'd finally escaped it – him. Not when she had a half dozen handsome young men of title and wealth all pursuing her, and not when her oldest brother had asked her to choose wisely, and for both herself and the clan's benefit. Lachlan was likely playing, anyway, angry that the puppy who'd tagged after him for so long had decided she preferred being elsewhere.

But he was correct about one thing; she was not going to be able to continue pretending that he was invisible. Not after that kiss. Not when for a bare second she'd remembered how much she'd once longed to be kissed just like that, and by him. "Damn ye, Lachlan MacTier," she muttered, letting her own brogue loose for a moment. "It is over. It is."

Find out more about Suzanne and her books at www.suzanneenoch.com.