When eighteen-year-old Elizabeth Wilson is forced into an arranged marriage by her ruthless father, escape seems impossible.

Her only hope lies with Alexander Mackintosh, a young Scottish law student willing to risk everything to rescue her. Pursued across the winter countryside, Alex and Elizabeth must rely on one another to survive, as a desperate flight becomes a journey of trust, courage, and unexpected love.

Set in England and the Scottish Highlands in the winter of 1695–1696, The Price of Elizabeth Wilson is the first novel in The Rosethorne and Highlands Saga.

Elizabeth Wilson thought reaching the Highlands would mean the end of the danger. Instead, it is only the beginning.

Now married to Alexander Mackintosh and welcomed into his lively Highland family, Elizabeth begins to discover what it truly means to belong. But the shadows of Rosethorne have followed them north, and a young boy left behind is still in danger.

As Alex and his family risk everything to bring Milton to safety, Elizabeth must find her own courage and build a new life among people who are quickly becoming her own.

Set in the Scottish Highlands in 1696, The House of Mackintosh continues The Rosethorne and Highlands Saga, a story of love, family, courage, and finding a place to call home.

The Price of Elizabeth Wilson

Before she could try to stand, his hand was under her arm, bracing her.

“Look at me.”

“I'm fine,” she insisted, but her voice cracked on the words.

“Aye,” he muttered. “Clearly.”

Heat rose painfully into her face as she realised she stood in wet stockings with one foot buried in mud while her boot sat several feet away near the roadside. She had scarcely been half a day upon the road before falling clean off the horse.

Alex followed her gaze, crossed back without another word, and yanked the boot free. By the time he returned, her knees had begun shaking badly enough that she could no longer hide it. His expression tightened slightly as he slipped a hand beneath her arm to steady her.

“Easy now.”

Before she could object, he lifted her back onto the horse. The movement startled her more than it should have. One moment she stood beside him in the mud, and the next she was settled in the saddle again while he gathered the reins into one gloved hand.

“You’re walking?” she asked.

“For a bit.”

“You’ll soak through.”

“Aye. I’ll survive it.”

His coat went dark with rain and mud as he led the horse into a stand of bare trees. It wasn't much, but the branches offered a break from the wind. He stopped them near a dense tangle of brush, sinking into a crouch to scrape the heavy mud off her boot. Elizabeth watched him in silence while rain whispered steadily through the branches overhead and the horse shifted nearby.

“You needn’t do that yourself.”

“Aye,” he replied, scraping mud from the leather with his thumb. “I do.”

Nothing in his tone suggested kindness offered for praise. He spoke as though the matter were obvious, and that unsettled her more than she cared to admit. When the worst of the mud had been cleared away, he rose and stepped closer.

“Give me your foot.”

The simple words brought unexpected warmth to her face. As she lifted her foot towards him, she became aware of how improper the moment might seem anywhere else, with her stocking damp from the rain and Alex's gloved hand closed carefully around her ankle as he guided the boot back into place.

His touch remained steady and practical, yet her pulse betrayed her all the same. If he noticed, he gave no sign of it, and when he finished his hand lingered for the briefest moment, his thumb resting against the leather before he finally let go.

“There.”

The House of Mackintosh

The house rarely stayed quiet for long. Florence talked through nearly every task, while Franny and Zane argued over everything from who got to sit nearest the fire to whether Fergus belonged more to one of them than the other. By midday the kitchen windows had steamed with heat from the cooking. Elizabeth stood beside Jane at the table, flour dusting her sleeves as they shaped bread rolls.

“No quite so tight,” Jane said. “Use a lighter touch or ye'll squash the air out of it.”

Elizabeth tried again. “Like this?”

“Aye. That's it.”

Near the hearth, Franny brushed Fergus despite his obvious lack of enthusiasm, while Zane balanced a spoon on the end of his nose.

“It's no possible,” Franny declared.

“It is.”

“It isna.”

The spoon wobbled and fell.

“It nearly was.”

Florence laughed. The door opened, letting in a rush of cold air as Alex stepped inside, snow clinging to his shoulders as he stamped the frost from his boots. Flour dusted Elizabeth's sleeve and wrist, while loose strands of dark hair had escaped around her face. Jane noticed Alex staring before Elizabeth did.

“Ye can stand there staring or ye can help.”

Alex blinked. “I was considering helping.”

“No, ye were no.”

Franny laughed while Elizabeth lowered her head, smiling. Alex stole a piece of dough.

“That's for supper,” Jane said.

“It's quality testing.”

“It's theft.”

He ate it anyway. When the rolls were finished, Jane waved them towards the door.

“Off wi' the pair o' ye. Ye're only getting under my feet.”

“We're helping,” Alex protested.

“She's helping. You're eating.”

Florence laughed. “She's right.”

Alex took Elizabeth's hand and led her outside. They wandered around the side of the cottage until they were hidden from the windows. Alex slowed. Elizabeth looked at him. “What?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her.

She smiled when he drew back. “What was that for?”

“Because I wanted tae.”

“Is that reason enough?”

“Aye.”

She smiled. “Good.”

Alex squeezed her hand. “Ye've settled in well.”