Highlander’s Moon (Children of the Moon #8) Read Online Lucy Monroe

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Historical Fiction, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Children of the Moon Series by Lucy Monroe

Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 135139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 676(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)

This marriage of convenience is anything but…

A Scottish earl, Éamon MacLeod is also a Highlander shifter pack alpha. He has no interest in love, marriage or true mates, but his stepfather’s will leaves him little choice. Marry and Englishwoman within the year or forfeit the fortune he needs to improve his estates and help his pack. The wolf shifter attends the Season with a list of requirements for his wife: she must be plain, moderately dowered and above all, practical. He finds the perfect candidate in Lady Catherine, and his wolf approves.
Labeled The Ordinary in her first season, Lady Catherine is a suffragette who abhors the loss of a woman’s few legal rights to marriage. Nevertheless, she finds Éamon intriguing. Irresistible even. Until he makes his insulting proposal.
He’s determined to have her for his wife and his mate. She’s determined to keep her freedom unless he loves her. It’s a contest of wills that even an alpha wolf shifter isn’t guaranteed to win.

Note from author: Highlander’s Moon was previously published as Annabelle’s Courtship, but has been rewritten for the Children of the Moon world, with a different ending and other significant changes. Long time readers of that series will be happy to hear that characters from previous COTM books will be making an appearance.




Highlands, Scotland

He could not throttle a dead man.

Nevertheless, Laird Éamon MacLeod’s fingers itched to close around his deceased stepfather’s throat. No matter that he had loved and respected the man in life. "Ye're telling me the earl left me a bloody fortune, but I canna get it unless I marry?"

Éamon’s fury called forth the beast in him and a warning growl issued from low in his chest. Thankfully, the elderly solicitor’s ears were too dull to hear it. Humans frightened much too easily, especially English ones.

Robinson removed his spectacles and carefully cleaned them with a cloth. Then, replacing the eyeglasses on his face, he shuffled the papers in front of him.

He cleared his throat. "Precisely speaking, milord, if you marry within six months."

"Bloody hell." Éamon clenched his hands and pivoted away from the other man.

The tenants on Clachavaddie's farms needed seed and farming implements, had done so for years. Those who shared their spirit with the wolf had more stamina and strength than their fully human brethren, but even werewolves couldn’t work the land without tools and seed to plant.

Regardless, not all his tenants were members of his small pack. Many of their homes would not last another winter without new thatch on the roofs. According to legend, the pack had left living in caves behind centuries ago and he wasna going to see them return to it.

Not while he was laird.

His stepfather’s will offered a solution: money in plentiful supply if Éamon wed within six months. But he wasna ready to mate.

And marriage meant doing just that.

Impotent fury clawed at Éamon's insides. His stepfather had been unaware of his dual nature. He had not known that once Éamon wed, he lost the chance to find his true mate among the females of his kind, that his honor would demand he remain with his wife even if he did meet his mate at some later date.

The urge to slam his fist into the gray stone wall of his study pounded through him while his chest tightened with an entirely unfamiliar sense of helplessness. His stepfather had been a stubborn man, stronger willed than any other human Éamon had ever met, but he'd never thought the man would put such a codicil in his will.

"Did my stepfather tell you why he placed this restriction in his will?"

Again the white head bent as the solicitor went through the ritual of cleaning his spectacles. Éamon wanted to tear the wire frame from Robinson's hands. Werena the man's eyeglasses clean enough?

"The late Earl believed that after the unfortunate incident with your broken betrothal you might hesitate to marry. He wanted you to secure your line, so to speak."

Had he but known it, the Earl had not needed to take such measures. Éamon was pack leader and laird. He would mate one day, regardless of whether he found the one meant to be his. Hadn't he been engaged once already?

He had no need to rush into marriage though, and after that failed engagement, he wanted to at least try to find his true mate. However, at present, he was too busy rebuilding the estate. An estate that had been in near ruin when he'd taken control of it on his twenty-fifth birthday.

His father had died young, and his mother had never wanted Éamon to return to the Highlands. She'd insisted her second husband leave the estate entirely in the hands of an English caretaker, someone her own father had recommended. An incompetent and corrupt man who had run the estate into the ground.