Lachlan, Dougal admitted, looked mild and harmless, the bonny sort of man with whom the lassies might get up to dance at the parties to which Dougal himself no longer received invitations. Lachlan raised thoughtful eyes to meet Dougal’s. And who are ‘they,’ who speak so ill of me? And he has been far more active in my life than any God.ĭougal drank deep from his cup of raw whisky, savored the bite as the liquor went down his throat, and shrugged.

Where is He, then? Busy playing chess with the Devil, no doubt. God? Dougal repeated the word in a harsh tone, and snorted. They are saying, Lachlan went on in a tone halfway between enjoyment and condemnation, your soul is damned and even God has washed His hands of you.

Aye, well, the clansmen still stood with him. Heedlessly and persistently, he had banished whatever good feeling anyone in his world harbored for him: his sister, his raggedy slew of cousins, his father’s men at arms, and the other companions of his childhood. Lachy had been Dougal’s closest friend-his one friend, would Dougal admit it-for as long as either of them could remember, and the sole person Dougal had not succeeded in driving away. He had no desire for his companion’s wild opinions, smiting his ears.īut no one had ever convinced Lachlan MacElwain to keep his opinions to himself. The wet night, foul and chill, had cast a pall upon the hour and unsettled him. Dougal MacRae-the Black Devil-narrowed his eyes and propped one booted foot on the hob, reaching for comfort he did not expect to find. The words hissed through the hush of midnight, competing with the voice of the wind rising outside. They call you the Devil Black: Diabhal Dubh.' The King has decreed he must settle and take a wife.'Do you know what they call you? The monster without conscience the destroyer he who ruins whatever he touches. They call him “Diabhal Dubh” – Devil Black – and he spends his days terrorizing the countryside, trying to outdistance the memories that torture him.

But when her coach is held up and she is abducted by a dangerous highwayman, she faces an unexpected choice: suffer the loveless union to which she has resigned herself, or marry this ruthless, Scottish outlaw who can ignite her desire with a single touch. A pretty, tartan skirt.ĭisgraced in her father’s eyes, Isobel Maitland travels to Scotland, determined to purchase her sister’s happiness at the cost of her own. Let’s talk about the fact that the Highland Devil is wearing a skirt. Shall we talk about his hang-dog expression (is that meant to be sultry? Are I-Don’t-Want-To-Be-Here-Eyes the new come-hither?)? Shall we talk about the fact that his left nipple is lovingly embraced by the “L” in the title? Shall we discuss the fact that he’s clearly standing in front of a teeny tiny black coach and horses? No.

Devil Black by Laura Strickland