His Judas Bride

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 ‘So much of her life had revolved around fear and shock, little paths of darkness she had managed to find her way along, to places where she’d always managed to survive, after all. It hadn’t  broken her. Because the thing she had to care about was always there for her to see. No matter how dark the night. To tell herself it was all gone, lost at Maisie’s croft door, and she should now do as she was told, would be an act of unparalleled folly. She’d no intentions.

Yet it was hard when she also saw clearly as the silver moon above her head that she hadn’t lost Arland at the croft door. She had lost him a long time ago.

Until this moment she just hadn’t wanted to see she had.’

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If he knew how to stop this he would

Desiring her could be murder.

To love, honor, and betray…

To get back her son, she will stop at nothing…

Dire circumstances have forced Kara McGurkie to forget she’s a woman. Dire circumstances force her to swear to love and honor, to help destroy a clan, when it means getting back her son. But when dire circumstances force her to seduce her fiancé’s brother on the eve of the wedding, will the dark secrets she holds and her greatest desire be enough to save her from his powerful allure?

To save his people, neither will he…

Since his wife’s murder, Callm McDunnagh, the Black Wolf of Lochalpin, ruthlessly guards heart and glen from dangerous intruders. But from the moment he first sees Kara he knows he must possess her, even though surrendering to his passion may prove the most dangerous risk of all.

 She has nothing left to fear except love itself…

Now only Kara can decide what passion can save or destroy, and who will finally learn the truth of the words… Till death do us part.

                     

”Callm would sooner cut off your head, than ask politely that you get the hell out of his glen. Their relationship, a brilliant play of slippery silk against a roughly forged sword.

Kara plumbs her inner depths for ice and stone. She must. But then there is the fire, ignited by Callm, which frazzles the both of them. The sex is raw, the sex is scorching, it is never gratuitous, it is always real.’ Incy Black Entangled author.

‘The plight of Kara and Callm is dire, the world they live in bleak, but the strength and humor they show, as well as the tender way their fledgling hopes and dreams of happiness are written, kept me glued to the pages, turning them one after another and never wanting the story to end. ‘ Book Lover Amazon.Ca.

‘I read this heart stopping book feeling every bit of strain of the choices she’s forced to make, the way she has to survive.
And Callm, with a dead heart and a soul he assumed he’d long since sold to the devil, is as terrifying as he is intriguing. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill, but also a man with a level of tenderness he had no idea he could even possess, quickly burrowed into my heart. The author dragged me into a world where life isn’t lived, it’s a fight just to breathe for another day. ‘ Aimee Duffy Harper Impulse author. Amazon UK. Amazon US.

‘This story is as rugged, beautiful and cruel as the landscape in which it’s set. Shehanne has another winner in His Judas Bride. This is not your typical historical romance. Ms Moore specialises in thrawn , feisty, troubled characters who refuse to bow down to what life throws at them. There are no
easy choices here.’  Booklin. Amazon UK.

‘With ‘His Judas Bride’, Shehanne Moore has done it again. She serves up a rich, red, full bodied Burgundy of a novel, where murder, intrigue, lies and deceit keep your attention firmly
glued to every page. This is a novel you won’t want to finish. Loved it!’ Antonia Van Zandt, author Seducing Amanda, Vienna Valentine, Etopia Press, Amazon US.

‘Scarred by deep wound and fighters to the bitter end. A
book I couldn’t put down! Historical Romance at its best.’ Sharon Struth, author The Hourglass, Etopia Press.

‘Callm is a tortured and twisted alpha male, yet underneath is a big marshmallow. Their passion for each other pits their minds against their bodies, I believe Ms. Moore is a native of Scotland, and that comes through in her language and knowledge of clan warfare.  No simple additions of “ye ken” at the end of sentences here.’ Author Erin Moore, The Shaman’s Temptation. Etopia Press. Amazon. US.

“I loved this book.” LAH. Amazon.US.

‘This is a book that draws the reader in from the very first page. Although written in the third person, the reader could almost believe the central characters are each in turn being written in the first person, such is the depth of characterisation the author achieves.’

‘Echoes of the Pen.’ Amazon UK

‘Her words were powerful and moving in a way I haven’t witnessed in historical romance in ages.‘

S.E.Roddy Novels.

His Judas Bride-5*Review @ShehanneMoore

 

My Thoughts…

‘Dark, deep and devastating aptly describes this historical romance, set in the beautiful but often brutal highlands of Scotland. 

Kara and Callm are both damaged by life and forced on a path of avenge and revenge, even though it is often at odds with the people they once were before tragedy struck.  Their meeting is unconventional and neither want to surrender to their passions, it’s too dangerous.

Kara needs to keep to her plan to save her son, Callm has already lost too much, his people are everything, and he can never put his personal pleasure above their safety. Love becomes a weapon rather than a balm and the resultant passion reflects this with vivid imagery.

If you want to relive history with all the rough edges and raw emotion, this story with its complex, challenged characters will consume you.

I received an ARC of the second edition from the author in return for an honest review. 

Jane Hunt First Steps Book Reviews.

His Judas Bride – by: Shehanne Moore https://artgowns.com/2021/07/27/his-judas-bride-by-shehanne-moore/ via @resalis

Chapter one

Scotland, long ago and far away

 Never look at the moon as you reach for the stars…

 Displaying herself half naked had never been part of the plan. Especially not in a see-through scarlet dress, in the middle of a raging snowstorm. But Lord Ewen McDunnagh was handsome so a plan could change.

It was unfortunate it should change so soon when he was also a drunk with a reputation for hiking the skirts of all women between the ages of fifteen and fifty and she’d still to gain entry to Lochalpin, but then again a knife jabbed her throat–his. So why not?

Show herself fully naked either? Well? Wasn’t she meant to be alluring, despite the fact it killed  her to the fossilized back ends of her chattering teeth?

“Lady McGurkie.”

Behind her, Kendrick—who else?—sounded as if he was hunched in abject despair over his palfrey.

When it later came to him describing her behavior, slut and she has learned nothing weren’t words her bastarding, old father would exactly want to hear.  But the stars could only be reached in Lochalpin. That place no stranger had set foot in in five years. Alive anyway. Here she was on the doorstep.

So the first thing wasn’t to ignore the way the snowflakes glistening in Lord Ewen’s umber colored hair, had just caused her jaw to drop when he first rode through the curtain of snow, the fact he was hard strength in worn leather and his voice when he’d told her to stop in his name, was richer than winter blackberries, too. The first thing was to get over it at all costs. The doorstep that was. That she’d been told to expect a troll and this wasn’t a troll wasn’t even secondary.

What exactly was Lord Ewen going to do if she didn’t shut her cloak which, actually, it had killed her to open? Send her back down the pass with her father’s men? Hardly. If it was his brother, the terror of her glen, perhaps. But it had been agreed he wouldn’t be here today.

Fisting the reins to control her nickering mount, she raised her chin.

“Thank you, Kendrick but I do think I’m capable of handling this. Lord Ewen, sir. I’m your bride, here at last after an arduous journey through the storm. So … so if you would just be so kind, so good …” Good was not something he looked like he was much accustomed to being. Except perhaps in bed? So maybe being good was something she should skip over, “as to remove … “

“My bride?”

“Yes. To be, that is, sir. Because of course, we are not wed … yet.”

“Hmm …”

His sea-green glare said yet would be a long time coming–if at all–that he found her left nostril more appealing. Thankfully him wanting her was optional. In fact, if five years in her father’s dungeon had destroyed her allegedly famous allure, think of the hassle it saved her if he didn’t when she’d been expecting a troll and this wasn’t a troll.

There were shores she’d once danced on. This wasn’t one.

“Lady Kara—” Kendrick muttered again.

“Yes. Lady Kara McGurkie, my lord. Will you please stop interrupting me Kendrick, thank you? Chief … Chief Ian Dhub’s oldest daughter, in case you’ve somehow forgotten.”

Lord Ewen lowered his gaze, edged his lip with his tongue. The faintly rueful smile was the first, tiniest crack in his veneer.

Good. It would be a disaster if every piece of tittle-tattle ever to slip past his brother, Callm the Black Wolf, was just that and he’d changed his mind about this wedding.

Or he thought there was something untoward about her, sitting here dressed like this. But she could relax. Finally the glen beckoned.

“The tinker chief bastard’s daughter, my bride?” He thrust the dagger back in his belt, displaying an inch of hardened stomach muscle. “Don’t you just love learning something new in life every day, Princess?”

Yes, she did. Particularly that she was not going to have to fight him off until that ring sat on her finger. Obviously his brother wasn’t the only one who didn’t like strangers in his precious glen. It made her even more generously disposed towards him.

“Already my lord likes his little joke, I see.”

“Damn right I do.”

“Then I shall be sure to see—“

He leaned closer. It was only the brush of breath against her cheek. Yet the shock of the contact travelled the length of her body, the one she’d been dead inside of for five years. “Because where you’re concerned, you can count on it splitting my sides.” Before she could open her mouth he turned to the mob surrounding him, on foot and horseback. “Well, can’t she, lads?”

Lads? Do pardon her for thinking she’d seen better-looking corpses. But to a man they whistled, catcalled and stuck out their tongues, so obviously they were as alive as her, for the time being anyway.

This wasn’t going quite as well as she’d like and if Kendrick complained again it might go even less. What exactly was Lord Ewen going to do if she didn’t shut her cloak? Send her back—remember? At least she hoped she did. Because that would not be a good choice for her.

“Oh, I think you’ll find when we’re wed, sir, I shall count on anything.”

“My lips are wet already.” He curved them in a deep grin. “With what you’re showing me here.”

“Good.”

Because frankly—damn him–the time had come to stop sitting here showing him it in the perishing cold, the snow piling up in her hood and do what she’d come to do. She removed her gloved hand from the reins. “Because you agreed to put an end to the war between our clans by wedding Chief Ian Dhub’s daughter, Lady Kara McGurkie, did you not? And I am Lady Kara McGurkie. Yes. My credentials are right here should you wish to see them.”

An armory clinked. Claymores, dirks, and axes. All glinting in the snow-lit dusk. All leveled at her. His men were good all right. Far better than her father’s stretched on horseback along the narrow pass behind her. Imagine the wedding night if they did that around the bed.

“Jesus.” The sloping, three-legged, shaggy beast at his side—what it was she’d no idea, except that it had fangs and it yowled, as his boot hit its backside. “Hell, Dug. Shut up, will you?”

Dug? She swallowed. He called the dog, Dug? How basic. What would he call his children when he had them? Child? Bairn? You? Son …

Her ribs tightened.

God, her mind whispered, don’t waylay me on the road to perdition. You can’t win. But there it was in that same moment. A vision, a boy, sitting right there on Lord Ewen’s shoulder, pale as the snowflakes dusting it, ethereal as the roiling mist. The eyes blue as the sky on a sunny day. The same soft hair. Her boy, her son, Arland.

Children’s names?

Wedding nights?

Was she completely, ragingly insane?

There weren’t going to be any children. And there wasn’t going to be any wedding night.

Because, after the wedding feast, there wasn’t going to be any groom.

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