By Nicole North
Have you heard the saying, “a man in a kilt is a man and a half?” Well, that’s the first reason I’m drawn to these unusually clothed guys. This statement also makes you wonder what exactly is a man and a half. Hmm. Lots of possibilities. Another question on a lot of people’s minds is what do they wear under those kilts? Nothing, if they consider themselves true Scots. I think that intrigues most women… the guy is “going commando" or "regimental” and what if a fierce wind blows through? We get a treat!
But there is far more to a hero who wears a kilt than just his clothing. If the story takes place hundreds of years ago in Scotland, he’s a tall, strong warrior who fights for what he believes in and what he loves. His duty is to defend his clan, his lands, his country, and protect the woman he loves. Honor and loyalty are of primary importance to him. He is noble but at times playful. That delicious Scottish accent rolls off his tongue, seducing both the heroine and the reader. He can handle a sword or a woman’s pleasure with equal proficiency. He has passion in spades. Sometimes that famous Scots temper might escape his control and have him spouting Gaelic curses or chasing after the enemy with a sword. The land of myth and legend is his home. He has experienced the harsh realities of life--the feuds, battles and oppression--but chances are he also believes in fairies and magic. Perhaps his soul and body are battered and damaged from the battles he’s chosen to fight, and maybe he has lost all faith in love. But when he finds it, we enjoy watching him touch and accept love like something fragile and precious. Love can heal wounds of the soul and break curses.
Excerpt from Devil in a Kilt, Secrets Volume 27 Untamed Pleasures
Copyright © Nicole North, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Red Sage Publishing
Gavin glanced out the window at the Highlands and the first faint trace of dawn peeking over the eastern mountains.
It won’t be long.
A yell echoed from down the corridor, the ravings of a madman. His father. One day that would be Gavin, talking to ghosts and shadows. But likely when he sank to that level, he would have no roof over his head. Or else his sparse clan would lock him in the dungeon to die alone. Since he had no heir, his greedy, grasping cousin would become laird. His clan would rejoice when their devil laird was dead.
"Damnation! Alpin willna unseat me. The craven whoreson." Draping his plaid around his waist and holding it in place, Gavin strode from the bedchamber and down the corridor toward his father’s room.
"There ye are, lad," Crocker said, his sparse gray hair sticking out in all directions. "Thanks be to God. He’s a right lunatic this morn. Asking for ye, he is."
"What the devil is wrong with him?" Gavin stepped inside the chamber.
"I dinna ken."
"Gavin! Gavin!" his father screeched from the four-poster bed as his body writhed, his long gray hair tangled. "The lass. Ye must look for the lass. Ye must marry. For the sake of the clan. For the sake of yer very soul."
"What lass?" No lass for miles around would so much as glance in his direction. He used to have to drag them from his bed and send them on their way. Now, he couldn’t pay one to give him an hour’s pleasure.
He would like as not turn them to stone, or they would end up possessed by the devil, as he was thought to be.
Gavin waited for his father to tell him which lass he referred to, but the older man now lay still with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. Mayhap he’d meant the lass from Gavin’s arousing dreams. But she wasn’t real, and he’d never seen her face.
Fingers of dawn light gleamed over the mountains and Gavin’s animal nature surged forth, beyond his control.
"Damnation! When will it end?"
He moved toward the open window, helpless to resist the call. Just as he reached it, a moment of pain sliced through him. His body transformed, and great glossy-black wings appeared where once he had arms, and talons on his feet. Taking flight from the window, he became one with the wind, the Highlands and the bright colors of dawn.
Book trailer video for the anthology.
Available for preorder from Barnes and Noble and Amazon!
Have you heard the saying, “a man in a kilt is a man and a half?” Well, that’s the first reason I’m drawn to these unusually clothed guys. This statement also makes you wonder what exactly is a man and a half. Hmm. Lots of possibilities. Another question on a lot of people’s minds is what do they wear under those kilts? Nothing, if they consider themselves true Scots. I think that intrigues most women… the guy is “going commando" or "regimental” and what if a fierce wind blows through? We get a treat!
But there is far more to a hero who wears a kilt than just his clothing. If the story takes place hundreds of years ago in Scotland, he’s a tall, strong warrior who fights for what he believes in and what he loves. His duty is to defend his clan, his lands, his country, and protect the woman he loves. Honor and loyalty are of primary importance to him. He is noble but at times playful. That delicious Scottish accent rolls off his tongue, seducing both the heroine and the reader. He can handle a sword or a woman’s pleasure with equal proficiency. He has passion in spades. Sometimes that famous Scots temper might escape his control and have him spouting Gaelic curses or chasing after the enemy with a sword. The land of myth and legend is his home. He has experienced the harsh realities of life--the feuds, battles and oppression--but chances are he also believes in fairies and magic. Perhaps his soul and body are battered and damaged from the battles he’s chosen to fight, and maybe he has lost all faith in love. But when he finds it, we enjoy watching him touch and accept love like something fragile and precious. Love can heal wounds of the soul and break curses.
Excerpt from Devil in a Kilt, Secrets Volume 27 Untamed Pleasures
Copyright © Nicole North, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Red Sage Publishing
Gavin glanced out the window at the Highlands and the first faint trace of dawn peeking over the eastern mountains.
It won’t be long.
A yell echoed from down the corridor, the ravings of a madman. His father. One day that would be Gavin, talking to ghosts and shadows. But likely when he sank to that level, he would have no roof over his head. Or else his sparse clan would lock him in the dungeon to die alone. Since he had no heir, his greedy, grasping cousin would become laird. His clan would rejoice when their devil laird was dead.
"Damnation! Alpin willna unseat me. The craven whoreson." Draping his plaid around his waist and holding it in place, Gavin strode from the bedchamber and down the corridor toward his father’s room.
"There ye are, lad," Crocker said, his sparse gray hair sticking out in all directions. "Thanks be to God. He’s a right lunatic this morn. Asking for ye, he is."
"What the devil is wrong with him?" Gavin stepped inside the chamber.
"I dinna ken."
"Gavin! Gavin!" his father screeched from the four-poster bed as his body writhed, his long gray hair tangled. "The lass. Ye must look for the lass. Ye must marry. For the sake of the clan. For the sake of yer very soul."
"What lass?" No lass for miles around would so much as glance in his direction. He used to have to drag them from his bed and send them on their way. Now, he couldn’t pay one to give him an hour’s pleasure.
He would like as not turn them to stone, or they would end up possessed by the devil, as he was thought to be.
Gavin waited for his father to tell him which lass he referred to, but the older man now lay still with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. Mayhap he’d meant the lass from Gavin’s arousing dreams. But she wasn’t real, and he’d never seen her face.
Fingers of dawn light gleamed over the mountains and Gavin’s animal nature surged forth, beyond his control.
"Damnation! When will it end?"
He moved toward the open window, helpless to resist the call. Just as he reached it, a moment of pain sliced through him. His body transformed, and great glossy-black wings appeared where once he had arms, and talons on his feet. Taking flight from the window, he became one with the wind, the Highlands and the bright colors of dawn.
Book trailer video for the anthology.
Available for preorder from Barnes and Noble and Amazon!
14 comments:
Hey Nicole,
Nice post! I think what you said, "The land of myth and legend is his home," is why historicals in general hold such power for us. We get to imagine, and project, and keep all the fun stuff of the past, while losing all the negatives of the modern-day.
And the brogue. Ahh, the brogue.
:-)
I agree, Kris! And that Scottish brogue is a seductive sound! :)
I guess I'm in the right place. Most don't understand why my Celtic roots call to me, but they do. My dh is born of highland stock and feels the call as well. I can only believe it's the magic calling us home.
Gwynlyn, yes, there is magic in the Highlands that calls to some people. It is strong and emotional but difficult to explain.
Excellent post Nicole! Very well said. I can't wait to read your book!!!!
Thanks tons, Eliza!!
Hugs!!
Loved the excerpt, Nicole!
I will admit to a certain fondness for men in kilts, and for all the reasons you listed - Strong, honorable, noble, and what hottie doesn't look even hotter in a kilt? *sigh* And of course, there's the commando aspect. Just knowing they don't have anything on under that kilt... ;)
Thanks, Evangeline!!! I agree, a hot man looks even hotter in a kilt. Indeed, knowing everything is accessable holds a certain appeal. ;)
Nicole, I am so looking forward to attending The Tattoo in Edinburgh this summer and seeing some of these "commandos" in the kilted flesh! Good luck with the release of your "Devil" and his friends.
Pat, Thanks!! And I'm SO jealous!!! You will see literally thousands of kilted men going commando and playing the pipes. :) I love Edinburgh! Take lots of pics!! :)
I love a man in a Kilt, so keep writing about them.
lead[at]hotsheet[dot]com
Thanks Virginia!! I very much look forward to bringing to life more hot men in kilts. :)
Yes, men in kilts are hot. BUT
It would be NICE if "historical fiction" had at least a hint of history in it and if people from Scotland weren't shown as total cliches.
Just one person's opinion.
Thank you for dropping in, Jeanne, and giving a different perspective. I don't write historical fiction. I write paranormal historical erotic romance with shapeshifters, magic and time-travel. My stories are not like text books which teach people about history. My stories are for entertainment and escape. I do very thorough research, but the history and setting are the backdrop or stage, so to speak. Not the focus. Since I write romance, the characters and their relationship remains the focus.
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