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Historical adventure and passionate romance unfold against the heather-strewn hills of a divided Scotland. A land of majestic castles and bitterly warring clans becomes the towering backdrop for the story of a man and a woman whose love cannot be denied - not by a centuries-old feud nor by a betrayal so shocking it is remembered still whenever bagpipes play their mournful songs of the Campbells and the MacDonalds...

Lady of the Glen tells of a time and a place like no other-when political treachery and royal intrigue ruled the day . . . a time when countrymen battled for their freedom and usurpers sought crowns. At the novel's center is a love story of breathtaking scope: a man and a woman-enemies from birth-know from the moment they meet that they will lie in each other's arms someday. But their love, for centuries forbidden, comes at the most dangerous of times.

Lady of the Glen tells of Catriona Campbell's enduring love for Aiasdair Og MacDonald, the second-born son of her clan's most powerful enemy, the Laird of Glencoe. It is MacDonald who alone shows the young Catriona kindness in a harsh and violent world.

As the years pass, the heart proves stronger than the sword, and they boldly pledge their love. . to handfast forever. While the Dutch King William conspires against the Scottish rebels who seek to return the exiled James Stuart to the throne, Catriona and Alasdair share a passion that joins them forever - although the lovers become pawns of war .... and of history.

Bestselling author Jennifer Roberson once again captures our hearts and imaginations in this haunting, lyrical tale of an era of savagery and splendor that continues to inspire legend and lore.

The massacre at Glencoe comes alive in this book as the following excerpt illustrates:

"Cat knew not to take the track. Instead she went through the trees, relying on memory to find her way. It was to Carnoch she meant to go first, then on to Inverrigan. Maclain was at Carnoch, and Lady Glencoe, and all the strength of the glen. Maclain could tell her where Dair was, what there was to do; she was a stranger in the glen and knew naught of its defenses, the habits of its people when danger came upon them.

The wound was stiff and sore, rubbed raw by the bandaging despite her care. There was naught she could do for it save ignore the discomfort; it was not a hole, and there was no musket ball hiding within her flesh. She would do well to recall there were others in worse straits. She had heard the dull crack of musketry, the shouts, and the screaming. She did not doubt there were MacDonalds dead; what profit in it to waste time on a powder burn and scrape?

In good weather, Carnoch was close. In bad, the distance trebled. Cold snooved into her lungs and took residence there, shortening her breath, until Cat had to stop and spit out the ache and phlegm. Coughing tore through her body and set her side aflame.

In the cold she sweated, and tears ran from her face to freeze against her cheeks. Cursing, Cat pulled herself upright again and went on, setting one fist over the stag-horn handle of the dirk. At the edge of the wood she halted. Carnoch bulked before her, an indistinct mass in the swirling snow and smoke. Soldiers had set the house afire, but as yet it merely smoldered sullenly, unable to burn unfettered. If the snow died it would catch; in the wind it would become a Beltaine fire in the hollow of the valley.

Cat cursed the storm. The haphazardness of the snowfall, eddied by the wind, hampered visibility. One moment she saw clearly, the next she was blind.

If the house is on fire, everyone must be dead - She cut off the thought at once. Not Maclain. Not Lady Glencoe. A few of their retainers, perhaps, but not those who counted, who could deter her father's madness.

Her thoughts bent in another direction. She knew where the house was. The snow could shield her. What she could not see others might not also; the storm could serve her if she used it wisely.

There was no shooting here, no shouts of fear and fury, no triumphant Campbell war cries. What had been done was done, and no one remained behind. Cat drew in a deep breath rudely shortened by the stabbing of her side, and began to run.

She ran until she tripped over an obstacle just before the door. Pain stole her breath; until she found it again she lay where she had fallen, unmindful of her sprawl. It wasn't until her senses, less startled than her thoughts, identified the obstacle as a body did she make any attempt to get up - and then it was in a lurching scramble that flung her back from the body.

Her fall had disturbed the snow. She saw the trews around his ankles, the bloodied nightshirt, the white hair dyed crimson. She knew him by his size, by the hugeness of his body; there was no face to see. Nothing remained of his features save the dull white splinter of jaw bone. It was MacIain.

The wail came up in her throat, was snatched away on the wind."

Scottish Radiance is an Associate of Amazon.com Books and you can order this book from them by going to Lady of the Glen.