From the glittering courts of Elizabethan England to the storm-tossed cliffs of the Scottish Highlands comes a dazzling tale of seduction, danger, and desire by one of America's bestselling and beloved authors, Iris Johansen. She was a beautiful pawn in a game of love and death.  When Princess Kathryn Kentyre is snatched from a life of captivity by the mysterious Black Robert of Craighdu, she is torn between absolute terror and soaring hope, He had been chosen to protect her from the dangers surrounding her, yet the moment he swept her away she knew this rogue of a Scottish laird would prove a greater threat than any she faced from her enemies. He was a warrior-chief torn between duty and desire.  Sensuous as sin itself and wild as his native Scottish Highlands, Robert MacDarren had no intention of settling down with one woman. Yet the agreement he'd struck to keep the peace required he marry the orphaned beauty and bring her back to his castle at Craigdhu for safekeeping. It was to be a marriage in name only—and only for one year. He never suspected that the meek hostage he had been promised would prove to be this firebrand of a woman who would challenge his mind, around his passion, and lay siege to his heart. nd a warrior-chief are swept from the glittering courts of Elizabethan England to the storm-tossed cliffs of the Scottish Highlands, in an engrossing tale of peril and desire. A princess and a warrior-chief are swept from the glittering courts of Elizabethan England to the storm-tossed cliffs of the Scottish Highlands, in an engrossing tale of peril and desire. Iris Johansen  is the  New York Times  bestselling author of many novels, including  Killer Dreams, On the Run, Countdown, Firestorm, Fatal Tide, Dead Aim,  and  No One to Trust.  She lives near Atlanta, Georgia. January 29, 1587 Sheffield, England   Mermaid!   Kate bolted upright in bed, chest rising and falling as she tried to still the panic tearing through her.   Had she screamed out the word? Dear God, let it not have happened. Yet her throat felt so raw, she knew she had betrayed herself.   She scrambled back against the headboard, wiping the tears from her cheeks as her gaze fixed fearfully on the door.   If she had screamed, they would soon come. She would hear the footsteps, and then the door would open.…   No sound yet. Perhaps she had not cried out, and if she had, maybe she had not awakened them. Perhaps God would be merciful, and she would be allowed to—   Footsteps.   Her eyes shut as terror closed around her. She braced herself, trying to smother the fear. She would not let them see her weakness, she thought fiercely. They would deny it, but she knew they liked to see her afraid. It was a weapon in the battle they waged against her. She was not usually so lacking in strength, but after the dream she always felt so frightened and lost that—   “Ah, my child. The dream again?”   Her lids flicked open, and she saw Sebastian Landfield standing in the doorway, illuminated by the single candle in the pewter holder he carried. His nightshirt and frayed gray robe clung to his thin body, making it appear frail. His rumpled white hair formed a shining halo about his lined face, and his gray eyes glittered with moisture as he looked at her. “I prayed it would not come. How it hurts me to see you suffer.”   “I’m not suffering.” She couldn’t resist the small defiance, though she knew she would pay for it.   He came forward to stand beside her bed and put the candle on the nightstand. “How can you say that when you woke us from deep sleep with your torment?” He reached out and gently touched a lock of hair on her forehead. “And, look, your thrashing about has loosened your hair from your nightcap.”   Blast it, she should have remembered to put on the cap. She carefully avoided darting a guilty glance at the despised night bonnet she had tossed impatiently on the bedside table before she went to sleep.   Sebastian’s glance shifted to the cap. “It appears suspiciously tidy for having undergone such punishment, doesn’t it?” He looked back at her. “But I know you would not have disobeyed me and left your hair unconfined. You have been so good of late.”   She quickly changed the subject. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, sir. I would not have—”   “It is no disturbance to be called to my duty,” he interrupted. “It is God’s will. His fingers traced the path of tears down her cheek. “Though Martha was not overpleased to have her rest broken.”   She wished he would not caress her cheek with those long, cold fingers. It seemed he was touching her more of late. She turned her head to avoid it. “I will give her my apologies. Where is she?”   “She will be here soon.” He smiled sadly. “And I think you know where I had to send her.”   To the top drawer of the cabinet in the scullery downstairs.   Kate shivered as she visualized Sebastian’s stocky wife moving down the steps, a grim smile of pleasure on her face.   “M