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Should he choose love, or survival?
Seaton Bannerman is a dark-hearted bastard, a reiver and a savage, or so decent folk say. He lives a loveless existence at Darkcliffe Manor, in the Scottish Marches. When his father offers sanctuary to a desperate orphan, his world is turned upside down. Brenna Curwen is everything he should not want, soft, gentle, unsuited to life at the edge of lawlessness. He doesn't need another mouth to feed or soul to protect for he has a future of duty and misery to face. Seaton shuns her until he notices that Brenna has hair like spun gold and amber eyes that see into his soul. But he is not alone in noticing her, and a rival, every bit as ruthless as he is, aims to seduce Brenna.
Meanwhile, King James begins to stamp his authority on the Marches, once and for all. Amidst the turmoil of a way of life under siege, Seaton must confront a terrible choice between his heart and his head. If he gets it wrong, he will lose everything.
Orphaned Brenna Curwen, with nowhere else to turn, is given shelter by an old admirer of her mother's - Machar Bannerman, Laird of Darkcliffe Manor. But her protector is not what he seems, and if she is to survive in his crumbling tower house on the edge of the moors, she must find a way to deal not just with him, but also his three bastard sons. The worst of them is Seaton, more a savage than a gentleman, who makes it clear from the start that he resents her presence. As danger comes calling, so does a ruthless suitor, and Brenna has no one to turn to for protection save mistrustful, surly, beast of a man - Seaton Bannerman.
Immerse yourself in the desolate beauty of the Scottish moors, as Seaton's Choice takes you on a journey of savage passions, of old rivalries curdling into fresh violence, of evil plotting and power-hungry clans. Can love blossom in a mire of murder, mayhem and destruction?
Extract from Seaton's Choice
The young man reached a door and thrust it open without knocking. He held it for her to enter. Brenna walked into a surprisingly bright room with large windows, a study from the looks of all the books lined along the walls. There were curios of all kinds, crowded in - stuffed animals in bell jars, metal implements, swords and guns mounted on the walls. It had the feel of an educated mind behind it, one quite different from the brute of a man standing beside her.
The dark lout persisted in staring at her without saying anything, and it was unnerving. The room was stuffy from a blazing fire in the hearth, and her face grew hot under his gaze.
'What do you stare at, Sir,' she said, tremulously, not quite catching his eye.
'You,' he spat.
'Please do not, for I do not like it.'
'But I do, so I will keep doing it,' he said, bringing his face closer to hers.
Footsteps sounded, coming closer.
The man took hold of her arm in a tight grip. 'Whoever you are and whatever you are after, take this advice. Watch yourself around Laird Bannerman. He has the cunning of a thousand foxes, and a black heart to boot, and I fear you do not have the guile to manage him.'
His eyes held hers, and for an instant, there was almost a hint of concern in his gaze. Brenna could feel his breath on her face, the tang of whisky carried with it. She glanced at his mouth, closer now, and held her breath.
'Seaton, unhand her, now.'
Brenna turned to see an older man staring at them with a livid look on his face. The man let go of her arm, and it felt as though the flesh still burned where he had touched her.
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