Surrender To The Highlander
Lairig Dubh, Scotland 1356
His sword sang its death song and the sound pulsed through his soul, giving him strength and resolve. Swinging it over his head and aiming its sharpened tip down, Rurik Erengislsson allowed the Viking buried deep within him to rise as he became one, in that instant, with the messenger of death in his grip. Only his control, exerted at the last moment, kept the deathblow from being delivered to the man lying at his feet in the dirt. Raising his face to the sun, he screamed out his battle cry like a berserker of old, loud and long, until it echoed out past the buildings of the yard and even over the walls surrounding the keep of Lairig Dubh.
His opponent judiciously allowed him the moment of triumph and did not move. The sharp tip of the sword held at Connor's neck was, no doubt, part of what held him motionless, waiting for Rurik ... read full excerpt from Surrender To the Highlander ebook
