Guest Author Paty Jager on The Nez Perce Indians

Nez Perce Camp

Today I'd like to welcome guest author Paty Jager to History Undressed! Paty is the author of riveting western tales set in numerous time periods. I'm excited to have her here today!

Eliza and Michelle, Thank you for having me here!


Spirit of the Lake is the second book of a trilogy set among the Nez Perce Indians of NE Oregon. The Lake Nimiipuu as they called themselves wintered and summered in the Wallowa Valley where I grew up.

To write this trilogy I had to study and research the Nez Perce Indians in the 17 and 1800's.

The children of Nez Perce families were taught by their grandparents. The grandfathers taught the boys how to make weapons, hunt, fish, track, and fight. Grandmothers taught the girls how to take care of their families, do the chores, and help their men. The elders passed down the stories of the trickster coyote and how "The People" came to be. By reading books of their legends I learned how the legends taught the children basic truths about life and how to conduct themselves to be good Nez Perce.

Grandmothers also taught the girls about the coming of age and were by their sides during marriages and the births. When a girl began her menstrual cycle she would stay in the menstrual lodge for the duration of her bleeding. It was believed the women carried strong powers during this time and were susceptible to getting pregnant. They also thought this strong power would overrule the man's power.

This isolation served a purpose. They held private discussions about personal problems and conditions of health, exchanged views on herbal medicine, and composed songs. They cooked their own meals in the lodge and didn't touch anything outside nor could they attend any ceremonies during this time.

They used buffalo hides with the fur still on for menstruation pads or buckskin and milkweed. The pads were put in a hole in the middle of the dwelling and buried.

After puberty girls were no longer allowed to play with boys and stayed in a lodge with their grandmothers and aunts and taught the ways of women.

In Spirit of the Lake, Dove, a young maiden who becomes pregnant from an attack by a Whiteman, is sent to live with the old woman to keep her from speaking of the incident and causing trouble. The story takes place after the treaty of 1863 that took away the Wallowa Nez Perce's land but wasn't signed by the Wallowa Nez Perce. Because they could be removed from their land at any time against their will, the leader's worked hard, sometimes too hard, to keep peace between their people and the Whitemen moving into the valley.


Here is the blurb and an excerpt.

Blurb

Two generations after his brother became mortal, Wewukiye, the lake spirit, prevents a Nimiipuu maiden from drowning and becomes caught up in her sorrow and her heart. Her tribe ignores Dove's shameful accusations—a White man took her body, leaving her pregnant, and he plans to take their land.Wewukiye vows to care for her until she gives birth, to help her prove the White man is deceitful and restore her place in her tribe.

As they travel on their quest for justice, Dove reveals spiritual abilities yet unknown in her people, ensnaring Wewukiye’s respect and awe. But can love between a mortal and a spirit grow without consequences?

Excerpt

Wewukiye tugged her hand, drawing her closer. His warm breath puffed against her ear.

"You need only think of me and you will have strength."

His soft silky voice floated through her body like a hot drink.

Dove swallowed the lump in her throat and asked, "When will I see you again?" The thought of sleeping on the hard ground next to the fire in Crazy One's dwelling didn't sound near as inviting as using his lap to rest her head.

The days and nights grew colder; to be wrapped in his arms would warm her through and through.

"You will find me at the meadow every day when the sun is directly overhead." He brushed his lips against her ear.

She closed her eyes, relishing the silky feel of his lips and the heat of his touch.

"Think of me," whispered through her head.

Dove opened her eyes. She stood alone. Her palm still warm from their clasped hands, her ear ringing with his whisper.

###

This post is part of a blog tour. Leave a comment on as many of my guest blogs at you can and the person who travels with me the most will receive an autographed copy of Spirit of the Lake, a sweatshirt, and cowboy chocolate. To find all the places I’m visiting go to my blog: www.patyjager.blogspot.com The contest runs from May 18th – May 29th covering thirteen blogs. I'll notify the winner on May 30th. In the event of a tie, I will draw a name.

To read more about the spirit trilogy or my other books visit my website: www.patyjager.net

Thank you for having me here today!

Guest Author Kris Kennedy on Undressing the Heroine: Medieval Girls

Today I'd like to welcome back guest author Kris Kennedy to History Undressed!  Some of you may have read the Medieval Cookery blog, which Kris did with me a couple years ago. Since it published on HU, its been the most popular blog to date, and still gets hundreds of readers a week.  She's the author of sizzling and intriguing medieval romance--which I recommend you read, her books are awesome! Today, Kris is back to tantalize us with one of my favorite topics: historical clothing! 

Undressing The Heroine: Medieval Girls

By Kris Kennedy

A few weeks ago, Mia Marlowe came by and chatted about women’s dress in the Victorian age. I, though, write sexy stories set in the middle ages.

It’s difficult to imagine two eras more dissimilar. But there were still find important commonalities. Trappings change, technology advances, but what was important to people in 1215 was important in 1857 and is still important today: food, friendship, family…sex.

You knew that was coming, right? Clearly, one of the most important similarities shared among all time periods is this: heroes still have to undress their heroines.

Today we’re going to chat about this pressing issue, and I’ll run through what, exactly, our intrepid medieval hero will encounter as he attempts to do what romance heroes do so well: undress their heroines.

As with Victorian era, there were many fashion changes over the era considered ‘medieval,’ from gowns to headgear to footwear, from eye loops to buttonholes. So let’s focus on . . . oh, say the early 13th century, around the year 1215, the year of Magna Carta and, why, look at that, coincidentally the year Defiant is set.

First, our medieval hero is going to have a much easier job getting to the object of his desire than the Victorian hero.



copy of image permitted
credit to: http://etc.usf.edu/clipart



Assuming he is dealing with a lady of some means, he’s going to first have to remove the girdle, the gilded belt. It hung off the hips, circling the waist, dipping to a V low, usually over the abdomen, and cascading in a decorative fall to the knees or below. Made of hammered metal and precious stones, it would be gorgeous and lush. Often, suspended from it would be the keys to the home or castle. Nothing would be coming off until that did.

This is where the hero is going to begin his assault.

After that, his job gets a lot easier. He has two layers of tunics to get through, starting with an outer tunic, originally called a bliant, which came simply to be the surcoat. By the mid-century, there was even the daring sideless surcoat for women, cut to be form-fitting. It was laced up the back or sides. A brightly colored chemise would be worn, sweeping to the ground, and would show through the places on the sides.

Our hero is so getting in that way.

Sleeves were long, often beyond the wrist, to the knuckles or covering the entire hand. They were stitched tight at the wrist so the hands could still be used. (Buttons and buttonholes made their appearance in the West from about 1200 on, but probably weren’t used on wrists in 1215.) The hero would have to battle his way past these. Let’s hope he’d be gentle.

The sleeves of the outer tunic, on the other hand, began to hang quite long and wide, falling almost to the ground as time went on, creating a billow, luxurious look. Much later, they became mere thin bands of fabric, called tippets.

Once he’s through these, the hero’s job is pretty much done. Women wore hose, generally to the knee, either woolen or silk, held up by garters. No need for a Victorian-style slit in the pantlets; the entire skirt could just be flipped up at need, should the occasion require, ahem, quicker action.

And don’t be fooled in thinking the hero is flinging aside drab layers of linen and burlap as he works his way in. Women were highly decorated. (So were men and walls and food and saddles and sword hilts and…well, you get the picture) Ornamentation was the rule, not the exception. Valuable stones, precious metals, embroidery, and above all, color.

Gems decorated anything to which they could be affixed, including girdles and hair, brooches and purses. Fabrics were dyed bright, rich hues. Metalwork was intricate and expensive. Soft wool and silk, silk gauze and satins were dyed brightly, tempting and beguiling the hero.

So, remember to admire the romance hero in every era who has the determination and persistence to work his way through all the layers required to finally achieve the object of his desire.

Kris Kennedy writes sexy medieval romances for Pocket Books. Her latest, DEFIANT received a starred Publishers Weekly choice, and is out now. Her previous release, THE IRISH WARRIOR (Kensington, 2010), won RWA’s 2008 Golden Heart Award for Best Unpublished Historical Romance. You can find exclusive excerpts, newsletter sign-up, and more at the website: http://kriskennedy.net

 

Guest Author Kate Dolan on Reenacting

Kate and her daughter at the Colonial Craftsman
Weekend at Jerusalem Mill Village

Today on History Undressed, I'd like to introduce you to our guest author Kate Dolan, who also happens to be a historical reenactor. I can not think of a more fun hobby! 

Reenacting

by Kate Dolan

My packing list includes a basketful of petticoats and a sugar axe—not what most people typically bring when they go camping, but this is not a typical camping trip. I’m headed to the Ft. Frederick Market Fair, an event which evokes the atmosphere of an 18th Century colonial village. I’m a reenactor without a gun.

We’re not attempting to recreate a past battle or specific historical event. Rather we’re trying to recreate, as much as possible, a bit of everyday life in the 18th Century. This includes cooking over an open fire, sleeping in shelters or barracks that were used during the time period, and avoiding modern conveniences as much as possible. And we do it all wearing 18th Century clothing, which isn’t that big of a problem unless you have to get somewhere in a hurry.

My family and I only camp at a couple of such events each year, so I’m not the most experienced “primitive” camper on the block, but we’ve been doing this for eight or nine years so I generally know what to expect at an event.

I know that if we’re cooking, we’ll need a lot of firewood. And that means I’ll need someone to collect it, replenish the supply, and most importantly, to split the big hunks into small chunks about the size of a small box of spaghetti. Those small chunks start to burn quickly and help keep a fire at an even temperature. This is really important when cooking things like pancakes and bacon. (The pancake recipe is period-correct; the modern bacon really isn’t but we like it too much to leave it off the menu!) By contrast, baking something like an apple pie requires a big, long-burning fire that produces lots of red-hot coals. Then even after cooking, you need to keep the fire going to heat water to wash the dishes. Over the course of a day, it’s a lot of wood.

The registration fee at most events includes firewood, and there’s usually enough for everyone, but there’s no guarantee that it’s dry or that it will stay that way, so some people will start to hoard wood as soon as they set up camp. Sometimes roving gangs of oversized children go around trying to sell firewood, but we try to steer them to more honorable pursuits like stealing laundry (more about that later).

My son learned to split wood pretty well when he was nine, so he’s a big help with that. My daughter spends a lot of time bringing water into camp, one pitcher at a time. In addition to water for drinking, cooking and doing dishes, we need it for washing hands, faces, and occasionally, hair. At one event, I thoroughly grossed out a visiting fifth grade class by washing my hair with lard-based soap and then rinsing it with vinegar. (The vinegar restores the ph balance which is left too alkaline from the soap. The first time I used soap I ended up with hair that felt greasy and dry at the same time. Pretty counter-productive!)

So did I notice my hair smelling like vinegar? Well, no, because it smelled too much like smoke to notice any other smell. Words cannot really describe how pervasive the smell of wood smoke is after a day of living right by the fire. Wool clothing in particular absorbs the scent like a sponge, but it seeps into everything. I imagine back in the colonial era that was quite a blessing, as the smoke could cover up a great many less pleasant aromas. But it can be quite a shock when we return home and bring things in the house. Sometimes we turn right back around and leave them outside again for a few days to air out.

Most of my colonial wardrobe doesn’t get washed much, if at all. My basic undergarment, a shift, is like a thin white nightgown and those do get washed. Over that I wear a pair of stays (like pants, this pair is actually just one garment). They lace up around my ribcage and force me to sit without slouching. If I lace them tightly, they can make it difficult to take in a deep breath, but usually if I’m working I don’t make them tight so they’re fairly comfortable. Stays are similar to a corset, but they’re shaped differently and don’t come down as far so they don’t cinch in the waist as much.

Over the stays, I wear two petticoats, which are not undergarments but outer skirts. Sometimes they are worn under a gown, but they are meant to show and be pretty full. Women who are trying to dress in a more fashionable manner will make their skirts even more bulky with padding (bum rolls) or cage-like devices called panniers.

Not me. I find using the porta-potty challenging enough with two simple petticoats.

Anyway, back to getting dressed because it does take about twenty times longer than it does on a regular camping trip. Over the shift, stays, and petticoats I wear a short gown or or jacket of some kind. That is held together with pins and tied closed with an apron. I use the apron as if it were a giant paper towel, so it’s pretty dirty by the end of the day.

Unless it’s really hot, I wear period stockings that come up past my knees and shoes like loafers with about a two-inch heel. If I’m lazy, I’ll wear modern clogs. If I’m trying to be more authentic, I’ll put on (briefly) a pair of straight-lasted reproduction colonial leather shoes. Apparently, the 18th Century fashion for symmetry even carried over to footwear for a time. All feet were considered equal. In other words, no right or left shoes. This has to have been one of the dumbest fashions of all time. The only dumber decision was the idea to recreate the ridiculous fashion two hundred years later for the sake of authenticity.

If the day is cool, I wear a neck kerchief and possibly a cloak. And then I put my hair up in a bun and cover it with a white cap. Again, the more fashionable women in camp may be wearing fancy decorated straw hats or silk bonnets but I hate wearing anything on my head so I usually wear the lightest cap I can find. And if I need to keep the sun or rain out of my face, I wear a man’s plain felt hat over my cap.

So after a couple of days, my hair is either dirty or pickled, everything I own smells like it’s been stored up a chimney, soot and grease from the fire have stained my hands black and my face is red from sun and wind. That means I had a good time.. It means the weather was nice enough for me to stay out all day. It means I had fun cooking outside where it’s a challenge. Or if my hands are clean, it means that I was probably doing laundry demonstrations and my kids got to take turns stealing the clothes laid out to dry. (One group of “bad” kids are the laundry thieves and the other “good” kids chase them through camp yelling at the top of their lungs. This is done ostensibly to show visitors how valuable clothing was in the past. But really I think my kids like to have an excuse to chase each other with weapons.)

When they’re not stealing laundry, chopping wood or carrying water, the kids can usually be found at one of the many tents offering goods for sale. Their favorite purchase is maple sugar, and they like to hack it to pieces with a sugar axe before eating it. Again, the use of weaponry undoubtedly figures heavily in the appeal.

At the end of the day, I don’t know how close we’ve come, if at all, to recreating the colonial atmosphere we sought. But it’s a great excuse to avoid email for a few days. And it’s one vacation when I don’t mind coming home, because then my ordinary house seems miraculous. Running water! Electric lights! A washing machine! And pizza delivered while we put away the 66 lb canvas tent, baskets full of smoky clothing and the sugar axe.

*****

Kate Dolan writes historical fiction and romance under her own name and contemporary mysteries and children’s books under the name K.D. Hays. Her most recent historical release, The Appearance of Impropriety, won the 2010 Written Art Award for humorous fiction. You can learn more about her misadventures with history by visiting www.katedolan.com.

Guest Author, Ann Lethbridge on Hot Houses in the Regency

Today on History Undressed I am pleased to introduce you to historical romance author, Ann Lethbridge, and the fascinating topic of hot houses! Before a couple years ago, I thought the concept of hot houses was relatively new--ie, hot house tomatoes. Did you know they existed a several hundred years ago? Get ready to be tantalized!

Hot Houses in the Regency

by Ann Lethbridge

Kensington Palace Orangery

Knowing I am a romance author who writes stories set in the Regency, I am sure it doesn’t surprise you to learn that I am always looking for interesting places for my couples to enjoy each other’s company.

A folly or a boathouse can be used to good effect as can a gamekeeper’s cottage as featured in The Gamekeeper’s Lady out this month.

One thing one always has to keep in mind is that England can be cool, in winter and in summer and in between. So if one wants to stray out of doors for a tete a tete, it might be wise to pick something warmer One thing that many country houses had in common during this period was the old hot-house for exotic plants.



Longleat Orangery

 These buildings became popular from the seventeenth century on. The Dutch invented them, but the British embraced them and anyone who was anyone had to have one. You can find them at many of the large country houses from that period. They go by several names, orangeries, for growing oranges and lemons, and the occasional pinery for growing pineapples. There were greenhouses or conservatories for growing everything else, including flowers.

A pinery was a separate part of the greenhouse or orangery, where special pinery stoves provided sufficient heat for the tropical plant to produce fruit. A luxury indeed. Architects had a field day making these buildings both functional and beautiful.

Margam Orangery near Port Talbot in Wales

These then are all nice warm places in the winter. Yes, they have glass but they probably get quite misty with the warm air inside and the cold air outside. Wouldn’t you think? And after all, the architects would have expected their noble employers to enjoy such exotic surroundings and must have provided seating and benches, and alcoves within.

No rake could be expected not to take advantage. What couple in love could resist. I have set at least two stories within the perfumed warmth of a conservatory. What other interesting nooks and crannies can you think of where our regency couple might find a few minutes alone?

********

Ann Lethbridge writes for Harlequin Historicals, her most recent books, The Gamekeeper’s Lady and More Than a Mistress are in stores in April and May 2011. She was also invited to write a story for the digital Royal Wedding Series put out by Harlequin in celebration of the Royal nuptials of Prince William and Kate Middleton, taking place today, April 29th. She chose to write about the Regency wedding of Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold in Princess Charlotte’s Choice.


If you would like to know more about Ann’s books you can go to her website at http://www.annlethbridge.com If you are interested in her travels though Britain and her Regency Research do drop in for a ramble at http://www.regencyramble.blogspot.com


The Gamekeepers Lady

Blurb: Frederica Bracewell grew up under a cloud of shame. As an illegitimate child, she was treated by her uncle like a servant. It wasn't until she encountered the new gamekeeper that shy, innocent Frederica started to feel like a true lady….

Lord Robert Mountford had been banished by his family. After a debauched existence, he reveled in the simplicity of a gamekeeper's lifestyle. Until temptation struck! Frederica's plain appearance and stuttering speech were a far cry from the ladies of the ton, but she might just be his undoing…and unmasking!




More than a Mistress

Blurb: Charles Mountford, Marquis of Tonbridge, has long felt the weight of responsibility. He knows he must do his duty and take a wife. But when he's left snowbound with the unconventional Miss Honor Meredith Draycott, he finds that his inner rogue wants to come out to play….

Merry doesn't need a man—no matter how handsome he is! Sadly, society takes a different view. Charlie is more than happy to make her socially acceptable, but only if she acts publicly as his betrothed and privately as his mistress!



Princess Charlotte’s Choice

Blurb: As Princess Charlotte prepares to marry Prince Leopold, her most trusted lady, Isabelle Fenwick, must remain chaste and beyond scandal. Yet she has never forgotten darkly handsome Count Nikkolae Grazinsky and the kiss he stole...

She later discovered the Russian had only used her for a wager, so why does he still seek her company? And why does the air tingle with anticipation when they are together? Surely this rake cannot be thinking of following Prince Leopold's example and making a love-match?



Historical Novel Review: The Tudor Secret, by C.W. Gortner

If you're looking for an action packed, Elizabethan book that encompasses everything there is to love about Tudor fiction: intrigue, scandal, betrayal, secrets, and those famous historical figures we all love, than you've got to check out, The Tudor Secret by C.W. Gortner!

This book is supposed to be the first in a new series, THE ELIZABETH I SPYMASTER CHRONICLES. I can't believe I have to wait until next year to read book two... I would like to read it now!

About the book: (from the author's website)

The era of the Tudors was one of spies, intrigue, conspiracy, and danger. . .

Summer, 1553: Brendan Prescott, an orphan reared in the household of the powerful Dudley family, is brought to court, where he finds himself sent on an illicit mission to King Edward VI’s brilliant, enigmatic sister, Princess Elizabeth.
But soon Brendan is compelled to work as a double agent by Elizabeth’s protector, William Cecil—who promises in exchange to help him unravel the secret of his own mysterious past.

A dark plot swirls around Elizabeth's quest to unravel the truth about the ominous disappearance of her seriously ill brother, King Edward VI. With only a bold stable boy and audacious lady-in-waiting at his side, Brendan plunges into a ruthless gambit of half-truths, lies, and murder.

Filled with the intrigue and pageantry of Tudor England, The Tudor Secret brings this world to life from a new perspective, telling the story of a spy who becomes the protector of England's future queen. (NOTE: The Tudor Secret is a new edition of The Secret Lion, with an additional new scene and some editorial polish.)

Griffen Trade Original, St Martin's Press (Trade paperback, 336 pages)

ISBN-10: 0-312-65850-8
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-65850-2

My Review:

From the beginning, the book hooks with the atmosphere of Elizabethan England, the horse ride, the entering of London, the people rioting. The author chose the perfect place to start the book.  The only thing I found confusing was the boy, Brendan, who is actually a man of twenty, I thought was much younger, but I think that is only because the steward kept referring to him as a boy and his thoughts came off as young. It soon becomes apparent that he is actually a grown man. This story had an underlying plot of a young man growing into manhood. Brendan starts out naive and young, and then with each ensuing event/action, he grows. We watch him blossom into a confident, strong, loyal man. And in the process he also discovers love, and to a woman who is independent and a warrior in her own right.


The book is action packed and never drags. Defeintiely a page-turner! Brendan is tossed into court and immediately dragged into the plots and intrigues of the Dudley's--his employers, and that of Cecil--who is simultaneously working for Elizabeth and Edward--and helping Mary on the side.

I feel like the author really did a good job of portraying the historical figures, and I could really see them the way I imagine them to have been.

This was a different sort of Tudor book than what I usually read, (books based on actual events/people) and I enjoyed it. Mr. Gortner, using a great deal of creativity, gave us a fictional hero and a fictional plot, but he weaved it so well into the history, that if I hadn't known it was fiction, I would have believed this story actually happened. Kudos to the author for that! Weaving fiction into history is no easy feat, and it takes a true artist to do it to seamlessly. I have not read any other Gortner books, but I will certainly be seeking them out now. I highly recommend The Tudor Secret!

Guest Author, Margaret Mallory on SCOTLAND, 1513: From the Golden Time To Chaos

I am super excited today to introduce you all to our guest author, Margaret Mallory. Margaret is a 2010 RITA Finalist for her book, Knight of Pleasure, the second book in her England-set medieval series ALL THE KING'S MEN. But today, she's here to tantalize us with a bit of Scottish history (and a girl after my own heart since her post also happens to be about the Tudors!) and her NEW Scottish romance series--which I CAN'T WAIT to read! I had the pleasure of meeting Margaret in person last year at the RWA National Conference, as well as enjoying membership with her through Celtic Hearts Romance Writers and Hearts Through History, she is sweet, funny and smart and I look forward to reading her work for many years to come! So, without further ado, I give you Margarget!

SCOTLAND, 1513: FROM GOLDEN TIME TO CHAOS

by Margaret Mallory

My new Scottish series, THE RETURN OF THE HIGHLANDERS, takes place during the chaotic aftermath of Scotland’s crushing defeat at the Battle of Flodden.

James IV

What a difference a day makes. In this case, that day was September 9, 1513, the day the Scots were defeated by the English at Flodden.

Before the Battle of Flodden, Scotland seemed to be on the verge of a golden age. King James IV fostered the growth of universities, supported musicians and poets, and built palaces that rivaled those on the continent.


The Great Hall at Stirling Castle


The king, who learned to speak Gaelic, even gained the allegiance of the usually rebellious Highland chieftains. For a time, he also achieved “Perpetual Peace” with England by his marriage to Margaret Tudor, Henry VII daughter, in a union hailed as the Thistle and the Rose. Peace, perpetual or otherwise, proved difficult to maintain with Margaret’s aggressive, younger brother, Henry VIII. When France called on Scotland’s help in fighting the English, James IV honored the Auld Alliance and marched into northern England with perhaps 30,000 men.



Margaret Tudor

Henry VIII - 1509

The king led the Scots to a crushing defeat at the Battle of Flodden in Northumberland. Thousands of Scots died in the battle. The king, who foolishly put himself in the thick of the battle as if he were an ordinary soldier, was among the many, many dead. His body was so mutilated that there rumors for years that the body was not his and that the king had escaped.

Unfortunately for Scotland, the king left a seventeen-month-old babe as heir to the throne. Pro-French and pro-English factions vied for power, and clan chieftains saw an opportunity to increase their lands and influence.

The young and handsome Douglas chieftain, the Earl of Angus, charmed his way into the queen’s bed almost before the king’s body was cold. The fact that Margaret Tudor was pregnant with the dead king’s child did not appear to give either of them much pause.

Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus

My hero and heroine in THE GUARDIAN, Book 1 of THE RETURN OF THE HIGHLANDERS, meet up with this dangerous pair of lovers on a trip to Stirling Castle.

Douglas overplayed his hand when he married Margaret. The Council was leery of having their enemy’s sister as regent and was glad for an excuse to replace her with the Duke of Albany, a Stewart who was raised in France. Margaret, however, refused to hand over the royal children until Albany laid siege to Stirling Castle.

Margaret Tudor Defying Parliament

A number of Highlander chieftains also died at Flodden, although there are conflicting stories as to how many and which ones were killed in the battle. This sudden change in the leadership of several clans added another layer of volatility, shifting alliances, and violence. In addition, the lack of a strong king led some of the Highland clans to rise up in rebellion again.

James IV was a Renaissance man, ahead of his time. In addition to supporting education, music, and new architecture, he unified his fractious country, skillfully negotiated European politics, and brought a period of relative peace to Scotland.

The four heroes of my RETURN OF THE HIGHLANDERS series left for France five years before the battle that changed everything. As soon as they hear the news of the Scot’s devastating loss to Henry VIII’s forces at Flodden, they hurry home to help their clan through the troubled times ahead.

And troubled times they were.

*****

Visit Margaret Mallory at http://www.margaretmallory.com/.  Leave a comment for your chance to win a signed copy of Ms. Mallory's new release: THE GUARDIAN!!!

THE RETURN OF THE HIGHLANDERS: BOOK I


Four fearless warriors return to the Highlands to claim their lands and legacies. But all their trials on the battlefield can't prepare them for their greatest challenge yet: winning the hearts of four willful Scottish beauties.

PASSION IGNITED

After years of fighting abroad, Ian MacDonald comes home to find his clan in peril. To save his kin, he must right the wrongs from his past . . . and claim the bride he's long resisted.

As a young lass, Sìleas depended on Ian to play her knight in shining armor. But when his rescue attempt compromised her virtue, Ian was forced to marry against his wishes. Five years later, Sìleas has grown from an awkward girl into an independent beauty who knows she deserves better than the reluctant husband who preferred war to his wife. Now this devilishly handsome Highlander is finally falling in love. He wants a second chance with Sìleas - and he won't take no for an answer.



__

Photos courtesy of Wikipedia, with the exception for the photo of The Great Hall, which was taken by the author, the author's photo, and the cover picture.



Guest Author Victoria Gray - PETTICOAT SPIES: Corsets, The Civil War, and Pauline Cushman

Welcome back to guest author, Victoria Gray, who is tantalizing us yet again with another post in her Petticoat Spies series. If you've missed her other posts, you'll want to check them out! Rose O'Neal Greenhow and Elizabeth Van Lew.  It amazes me how these women lived! Enjoy!

PETTICOAT SPIES: CORSETS, THE CIVIL WAR, AND PAULINE CUSHMAN]

By Victoria Gray

The Civil War and the adventurous ladies who broke past society’s restrictions (or used them to their advantage) and used their feminine wiles to gather information for their cause is a favorite subject of mine. One such petticoat spy, Elizabeth Van Lew, not-so-fondly known as Crazy Bet in her native Richmond, was the inspiration for the crazy-as-a-fox spymaster in my recent release Angel in My Arms. I visited History Undressed with her story in January…hope you’ll take a peek in the archives if this article stirs your interest in the brave women who risked it all to serve the North and the South. Today, I’d like to introduce you to a legendary Yankee petticoat spy, Pauline Cushman.

Born Harriet Wood on June 10, 1833, the New Orleans native moved to Michigan as a girl. Leaving home at age eighteen, she took off for New York, where her beauty and vibrant personality fostered a career as an actress. After changing her name to Pauline Cushman, she traveled the country in road shows. When the war broke out in the spring of 1861, she was performing in Kentucky, which was at that time under Union control. Confederate officers who viewed her performance offered her a substantial sum to toast Jefferson Davis during her show. Seizing her opportunity, Pauline parlayed the on-stage toast into espionage. Held by Union officers in a pre-planned “arrest”, she became an instant heroine to the Confederates. The Federal officials then threw her out of Union territory, providing her a reason to follow the Confederate Army. Claiming to look for a long-lost brother fighting in the Rebel army, she spent time with Confederate soldiers who shared information on their defenses and operations, gathered lists of Confederate spies and used her riding skills to serve as a Union messenger.

Her assignments grew more daring and more dangerous. Infiltrating the camps of Confederate General Braxton Bragg, Pauline used her beauty and charm to loosen the lips of Confederate officers and gather information. Confronted with more information on defenses, war strategies, and weapons than she could possibly remember, she violated a key rule: never carry documents that would reveal her activities. Feeling she had found the perfect place to hide her notes, she concealed the papers in the soles of her shoes. This came back to haunt her when she was betrayed by a Confederate scout. Arrested and tried by a military court, she narrowly escaped a death sentence by hanging when Union forces invaded the town where she was being held, Shelbyville, Tennessee. Awarded the rank of Brevet-Major by General James Garfield, she wrote a book about her adventures, appropriately titled The Thrilling Adventures of Pauline Cushman and toured the country regaling crowds with the tales of her exploits.

Pauline Cushman died in December 1893. She was buried with full military honors. Her gravestone lists only her name and a unique designation: Union Spy.

I’ll be back this summer with more tales of petticoat spies. My Civil War-era novels Destiny, Angel in My Arms, and my upcoming release, Surrender to Your Touch, were inspired by the espionage and intrigue that surrounded the Civil War. In my latest release, Angel in My Arms, Union spy Amanda Emerson must break her cousin, a notorious double agent, out of a Confederate prison before his imminent execution. She’s a skilled Union operative, but for this mission, she needs a man. Even a man who looks and acts like a Viking warrior. Caught with Rebel battle plans and set for a hanging, Union spy Steve Dunham isn’t about to refuse the assistance of the sable-haired beauty who shows up at the jail and slips him the keys to his cell. Of course, she’s there for a reason besides saving his neck—he’s the key to her plan. He may be trading one noose for another, but he won’t forsake her. The spoils of his victory will be her surrender. And the terms of surrender will be sweet.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Are you working for DuBois?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Amanda steadied her voice. If she didn’t keep her fear tightly leashed, she would fall apart. She had no time for that.

“I think you do. Why else would you break a man out of jail who smells and looks like the town drunk and ride off with him? Did you plan to charm me into revealing the details of my mission?”

“Betsy thought we could count on you. She’s been told—”

“I’m not the guard in that country jail.” His hand moved from her hair to the small of her back, pressing her to him. “Do you realize how easy it would be for me to hike up your skirts and savor some of the charms you flaunted?”

Amanda tasted bile as his words stabbed with the viciousness of a stiletto.

To hell with this man.

Her palm struck his bearded cheek with all the force Amanda could muster. His eyes widened as one broad hand rose to rub his face. She wrenched away and bolted to the horse as fast as her cumbersome skirts would allow.

She couldn’t escape him if he chose to pursue her. Amanda knew that. But she had to try.

Captain Dunham captured her in his arms before she could lift herself into the saddle. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Despite Amanda’s best efforts to deprive him of the satisfaction of seeing her weep, moisture brimmed in her eyes. “You were right. My source was entirely wrong about you.”

She shoved against his chest, but she might as well have been a mouse trying to open a barn door. He didn’t budge. His arms coiled around her and dragged her against his body.

He peered down to study her for several breaths. Then his hands moved higher, stroking Amanda’s back and shoulders with soothing pressure.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His gruff drawl had lost its angry edge. “Don’t you know how dangerous men can be?”

She swallowed hard. “We were desperate. Betsy thought you would help us.” Amanda wriggled away from his touch. “She was wrong.”

“Why did you come for me?”

“I’ve tried to tell you. But you won’t listen.”

He caught her in his arms again. “Tell me now.”

She twisted to free herself. “Take your hands off me. I’m going home. You can…you can find your way to your contact. You’re clever enough.”

He smiled but made no move to release her. “You’re not going anywhere without me. That would be like throwing you to the wolves.”

“This is coming from the man who spoke of hiking my skirts?” Amanda squirmed against him, brushing against undeniable proof he was not immune to her charms, as he’d described them. “I think I’ll take my chances with the wolves.”

“I thought you were working for…hell, it doesn’t matter what I thought.” He cast his gaze to the ground. “I would never hurt you. I don’t…I’ve never hurt a woman in my life. I was trying to make a point.”

She was tired. She was cold. And she needed to get away from him. It was bad enough when he frightened her. But now, the husky rasp in his voice stirred a warmth she couldn’t afford to feel.

“You’ve made your point very clear.” She veiled her eyes with her lashes. “You’ve also convinced me that seeking your assistance was a fool’s errand.”

“You sure are stubborn when you get riled.” He tipped her chin with one finger, keeping one hand planted firmly at her waist. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pretty girl get so angry with me.”

“I doubt there are many girls, pretty or otherwise, who’ve had as much justification.”

“In my defense, I thought you were leading me into a trap.”

“You don’t think that’s the case now?”

He shook his head. “If it was, I’d be dead by now. DuBois isn’t a patient man.”

Amanda trembled when he drew his fingertips very lightly along the curve of her face. Her top teeth grazed her bottom lip. His touch should repel her. But it didn’t. The sensations rippling through her body were not shudders of revulsion. To her horror, the sweep of his skin against her flesh was pleasant. Too pleasant.

Her teeth sank into her lip as she twisted against his restraint. “You shouldn’t touch me like this. Your behavior is most improper.”

“I suppose it is,” he agreed, his husky voice deepening.

“You need to let me go.” She held herself rigid and prayed he couldn’t feel the tiny quivers coursing through her body.

“I will.” The pad of his thumb swept over her bottom lip. “But you’re too damned pretty to resist.”

And then he kissed her.

Amanda’s knees went from weak to jelly. To her horror, she made no attempt to fight him. She stood transfixed, savoring the taste of his lips, the gentleness of his possession. This brute of a man claimed her with a tenderness she’d never felt in her twenty-four years. She could only remain a captive in his embrace, savoring his heat and his caress.

He released her slowly. Reluctantly. His hard body pressed to hers, stirring needs she’d buried on the brutal day she became a widow.

If his breath and the tension in his body were any indication, he’d been as affected by the kiss as she had. His fingertips traced over her cheeks. He watched her in the moonlight as though he’d discovered something rare and precious.

“Christ, tell me you weren’t acting,” he murmured against her lips.

*****

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