Kilgannon

Setting: Scottish Highlands, 1712
Sensuality: 7

Mary Lowell is enjoying the social whirl of a London season when Alex MacGannon, Earl of Kilgannon, walks into her aunt's ballroom. It's love at first sight but their courtship isn't an easy one; instead, it's fraught with misunderstandings, the intervention of another jealous suitor, and an attack on Mary's life. Despite her aunt's warnings about the danger and hardships of life in the Highlands, Mary is determined and marries her handsome Scotsman. She quickly learns that marriage to a Scottish laird involves complications that she's never considered, while Alex finds that having a beautiful, intelligent wife can sometimes make life difficult. And as if settling into marriage and sharing their life isn't challenging enough, the threat of betrayal and war swirls over Kilgannon, threatening their happiness and the lives of the clan.

The world of well-to-do Londoners and Highland clansmen comes alive in this memorable historical, immersing the reader in the sights and sounds of the early 1700s. The characters are well drawn, while the tightly woven plot keeps one turning the pages without pause. The sequel to this story,
The Wild Rose of Kilgannon
, is soon to follow, bringing us the further adventures of Mary and Alec.
--Lois Faye Dyer

Givens's debut romanceAset in England and Scotland in the early 1700s, when tensions ran high during Queen Anne's reignAsubtly weaves a tale of personal and historical conflict. Mary Lowell, a sheltered young Englishwoman, is shocked by her strong feelings when she meets barbaric Scottish chieftain Alex MacGannon, Earl of Kilgannon, at a ball in London. After a rocky courtship, MacGannon whisks Mary back to his clan in the Scottish Highlands, where they face danger amid tumultuous rebellion. Alex displays both a sense of humor and unshakable integrity, and Mary's quiet strength is revealed through her first-person narration. The only serious flaw in this well-researched historical is that, in her effort to set up a sequel, Givens fails to resolve major conflicts, a tactic that may leave readers dissatisfied. (Oct.)
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Kathleen Givens

A Dell Book

For my husband, Russ,

who taught me how to live and love;

For my daughters, Kerry and Patty, who caught me the joys of mo
therhood and who keep me young;

For my mother, Violet Rose,

who caught me to know and love our heritage;

And for the memory of my father, who caught me to
plan my work and work my plan.

NO NOVEL IS PUBLISHED WITHOUT ASSISTANCE AND this one had considerable. I would like to thank Maureen Walters and Maria Angelico of Curtis Brown, Ltd., for their unfailing enthusiasm, kindness, and encouragement; Maggie Crawford of Dell, who shared a vision and helped shape it; Russ, for being the kind of man a woman wants to write about and for his insight into the male mind; Kerry and Patty, for reading every word, for laughing and crying in the right places, and for never complaining when their mother was in the eighteenth century; my mother, Violet, for all the family stories and for her unwavering belief; Peggy Gregerson, for gently reading every draft and keeping me writing; my brother Rich and the whole family for their optimism; my sister, Nicole, for her speed-editing; Georgene Fairbanks, Mary Lewis, and Rick Capaldi, the Lunch Bunch, and the Go Ask Alice Writing Group for their encouragement and support; the staff of the Westminster Abbey Library for their patience; and the countless historians, librarians, and museum staff members who guided me back to Mary and Alex's world. Any inaccuracies are mine alone.

O my Luve's like a Red, Red Rose, That's newly sprung in June

O
my Luve's like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune.

As pair art thou, my
bonne lass, So deep in luve am I
; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a the seas gang dry.

Till a the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi 'the sun:

I will live thee still, my dear. While the sands o 'life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve. And are thee weel awhile I And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.

A RED, RED ROSE. ROBERT BURNS

June, 1712

I YAWNED FOR THE FOURTH TIME, DRAWING A GLARE FROM the seamstress. "Miss Lowell," she said with asperity. "You must stand straight and please pay attention. Your aunt wishes this dress to be ready for the Duchess's party tomorrow night, and I cannot finish it if you fall asleep." She rose from the hem she had been working on and watched me with narrowed eyes and stiff posture, her hands clasped before her.

"I am sorry, Miss Benton," I answered, "truly I am, but you have made me closets full of beautiful dresses and I cannot help but think that one more will make no difference." Her expression did not vary, and I sighed. "I will stand straight, I promise, and we shall finish this afternoon."

Mollified somewhat, she nodded. "This particular shade of deep blue looks marvelous on you, Miss Lowell. It compliments your eyes very well, and the rose we'll work on next brings out the blush in your cheeks."

"You said this was the last one, Miss Benton." I tried to keep the note of despair out of my tone as I looked out the window at a beautiful summer day. The only fair day we'd had in weeks and I was in my sitting room trying on yet another dress.

"You do have many dresses, Miss Lowell," Miss Benton agreed, concentrating on her work once again, "but your fashionable gowns are all black and you are no longer in mourning for your mother. Your aunt has asked me to help get you ready for these last parties. The Season is almost over."

I nodded. And high time, I thought. When I'd first come to London I'd loved the Season, enjoying the parties and the flirtations and the endless rounds of socializing. I'd grown proficient at discussing affairs of both the state and the heart. But when my mother grew ill and I retired with her to our home in Warkwickshire, I'd had a great deal of time to reflect on the shallow nature of London society. I'd found I didn't miss it greatly. Since her death I'd been traveling with Aunt Louisa in Europe, avoiding France, of course, with which England was currently at war. We had returned for Christmas, in time for the liveliest part of the Season.

It was early June now and most of London would be leaving town soon, heading for country estates and the summer visits of friends and family. I turned as Miss Benton gestured, and sighed again. My aunt was paying for these dresses in the hope of a brilliant marriage for me, and since I had no means of my own beyond the small share of the rents on the lands my brother now owned, I could not dictate to the woman Louisa had hired. But it was so boring. Still, I reflected, the days when I was mistress of my time were over. My mother's illness and death had postponed the inevitable. I was to be married. Oh, the groom had not yet been selected and my personal wishes had not been considered, but Robert Campbell was the current front-runner. The freedoms I'd had in my upbringing were long gone now. Even at home at Mountgarden I could no longer do those things I had taken for granted. I smiled to think of the reaction if I were to take my shoes off and help with the haying as I had done as a girl. How I missed my parents. My father, unlike so many men, had considered education important for a girl. "Educate a woman and you educate a family" was a favorite saying of his, and he'd lived it as well, but I'd not had any need lately of my Latin and French nor of my ability to do sums. My brother had recently married Betty Southall and handled the accounts at Mountgarden himself now, badly, but the estate was his and so was the responsibility. I visited less frequently, although when I did I still straightened the accounts out with Will's blessing, taking great joy in their order.

Miss Benton asked me to stand straight again and I did, wondering if I dared send a runner to the library for a book. Perhaps if I could read while she worked I might survive the afternoon. I lifted my head as she requested and stared at my reflection. And frowned. Properly dressed I might pass for fashionable, but I would never be the beauty my Aunt Louisa and my sister-in-law Betty were, both small and dainty women, Louisa with dark curls and Betty with the fair hair of the true Saxon. I was neither small nor dainty, nor beautiful, despite Louisa's kind comments. I knew I needed this dress finished, for without the requisite wardrobe I might never land a husband. But I detested the process. "Do you know what I've done today, Miss Benton?"

"No, Miss Lowell," she murmured, her mouth full of pins.

"I dressed for breakfast, then changed my clothes to accompany Aunt Louisa to the Duchess's to discuss the party. Then I returned home and changed my clothes for luncheon with my brother, Will, and his wife, Betty. Now I am changing my clothes so that you may finish these dresses. And then I will change my clothes to go to the Mayfair
Bartlett’s
for dinner."

"A lovely day, Miss Lowell."

"You do not think I should accomplish something more than changing my clothes?" The seamstress did not answer, and I turned as she'd gestured. A woman who made her living dressing people would not be sympathetic to someone who did not want to change her clothes all day long, I told myself, and looked out the window again, resolving to be compliant and let her complete her task. My mind wandered while I tried to keep my back straight. Robert would be home soon and that would start the gossips buzzing again. All of London society assumed that an announcement of our engagement was imminent. Perhaps he'll be delayed, I thought, wincing at my disloyalty. It wasn't that I did not want to see him again, for I was genuinely fond of Robert Campbell, but I was in no hurry to marry him, or anyone for that matter, and he seemed to be of the same opinion. In the last two years Robert and I had grown accustomed to each other's company and London had grown accustomed to seeing us together. Louisa, my mother's sister, had been pleased, sure that a marriage with the Campbell family would be a good alliance for me. She thought I was at a marriageable age, that Robert was a prime catch, and that I was not trying hard enough to catch him, but despite our constant companionship there had been no commitment or declaration of love on either side. Robert was in France with his cousin John, the Duke of Argyll. While I wasn't sure what it was he'd been doing, I knew it concerned the war, though he'd not been in the field lately. When I'd asked Robert what his duties were, I'd been told not to bother about it, as though my understanding what he did would confuse or distress me. Louisa's husband, my uncle Randolph, in France with so many of the other men, had given no direction on the matter and I was content to float along in this limbo, knowing that when the war was over we would have to come to a decision. Until then, Louisa and her friend the Duchess would continue to try to find me a suitable husband and I would resist. I knew Robert was a good man, but I wanted. ... well, more. I looked out the window and tried not to mope.

I was rewarded for my good behavior by the announcement of Rebecca Washburton's arrival and her appearance in the doorway a few moments later. Becca, my dearest friend, and I had known each other since we were babies. Our mothers had been friends as girls, my aunt Louisa with them, and I could not remember a time when Becca and I had not been as sisters. We even looked alike, with dark hair and blue eyes, and although I was much taller we were often confused by strangers. But that would be changing soon. In November she would be marrying Lawrence Pearson, a cousin of the Mayfair
Bartlett’s
, and moving with him to his home in the Carolinas. I would miss her terribly.

"Miss Benton." Rebecca nodded to the seamstress. "And Mary, dear." Miss Benton stood stiffly to one side as we embraced. Becca stood back with a smile. "Please continue, Miss Benton. I'll sit out of the way and talk while you finish." Miss Benton returned to her work while I met Becca's merry eyes over the seamstress's bent head. "That dress suits you, Mary," Becca said. "You're tall enough to wear hoops and not have them look silly."

Miss Benton answered. "I'm glad you like it, Miss Washburton."

I must be invisible, I thought, and Rebecca smiled. She knew how I detested these fittings and teased me by telling of her long ride with Lawrence. I made a face at her.

"My dear Mary," she said breezily as she settled herself into a chair by the window, "you must be properly dressed so that the Duchess can find you a husband." With a glance at Miss Benton she continued in the same tone. "Lord Campbell should be home any day." I glared at my friend, knowing that she knew I could not respond freely in front of Miss Benton, for everything I said would be repeated to all who would listen, and in London many were willing to listen. And she knew that Robert was not my favorite topic. "It's a shame," Becca continued, smiling wildly now, "that Lord Campbell won't be home for the Duchess's party, but he may be here for your aunt's evening next week or Lady Wilmington's the following week."

"Yes." I glared at her over Miss Benton's head.

Becca refused to be intimidated. "Actually," she said, glancing out the window, "I've come with my mother to give our apologies to Louisa. We are going with Lawrence's family to Bath on Tuesday, and we'll miss her party." "Becca!" I cried. "Can you not postpone your trip? Just a day or so? How will I get through the evening without you?"

Miss Benton raised her head before Becca could answer. "Your mother is here with Countess Randolph, Miss Washburton?" She rose, firmly pushing pins into the cushion she wore on her wrist.

"They are in the parlor, Miss Benton," Rebecca said. "Do you wish to speak with her?"

Miss Benton nodded. "I must discuss the fittings for your wedding gown with her, and if you will be away next week we need to schedule them for some other time." She gave me a cursory glance, already moving toward the door. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Lowell, I will return in just a few moments." I nodded, with what Rebecca called my "regal" look, but Miss Benton was already gone and I turned to my friend.

"How horrid you are!" I said, lifting the dress high so that I could stalk over to her. "Why did you mention Robert? Did you see her reaction? She stopped working to hear what we would say. She'll repeat every word!"

Rebecca laughed. "Mary, you act as though she isn't always listening to everything. Give them something to talk about."

"Why not you instead of me?" I flounced into a chair.

"I'm old news," she said, arching her eyebrows, "already engaged and the wedding day set. The only thing of interest about me before my marriage would be if Lawrence was found in some dreadful woman's company or if I suddenly started gaining weight."

"Easy for you to say," I answered. 'The vigilance has been relaxed. I'm still watched every minute. Really, Becca, I do envy you. Once you are married you will enjoy much more freedom than we do now." It was true. My every moment was observed for signs of appropriateness and propriety. If Robert and I were together we must be under the watchful gaze of a relative or my maid, and the door of the room we were in must be left ajar. I often wondered just what exactly my maid could prevent if Robert chose to misbehave. But, I reflected, Robert would never misbehave.

"Poor Mary," Rebecca teased. "Life is so very difficult."

"You don't have to dine with the Mayfair
Bartlett’s
tonight."

"We did last night and survived."

"Let me guess. You discussed politics."