Page 91 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

“Aye, but I’m yer strange man, Evina soon-to-be Buchanan,” he assured her.

“Aye, ye are,” she agreed softly as he carried her out of the keep, heading for the chapel where the priest waited to marry them.

An Excerpt from The Trouble With Vampires

Keep reading for a sneak peek of

Lynsay Sands’ latest paranormal romance

The Trouble With Vampires

Coming May 2019 from Avon Books

The Trouble With Vampires

“You shot me!”

“Yeahhh,” Pet drew out the word on a wince. “Sorry about that, kiddo. It was an accident. I was shooting at the mutants and your big butt got in my way.”

“Yeah? Well this is an accident too,” Parker snapped, turning his gun on her character.

“Oh, come on!” Pet squawked, quickly moving her character behind the cover of some trees to avoid the rapid-fire spray of bullets. “It was an accident,” she protested. “Gees. I thought we were on the same side.”

“You shot me first,” Parker pointed out, making his character rush after hers.

“Friendly fire. You’ll never make it out of the next level without me, Parker. Just—” A shriek from downstairs caught her ear, and Pet lowered her game controller and glanced toward the bedroom door.

“Is Oksana watching TV or some—?” she began, but stopped when the shriek ended and the housekeeper began shouting, “Home invasion! Home Invasion!”

“Crap!” Dropping her game controller, Pet jumped up from the floor and rushed to the door. Once there, she hesitated though, and then cracked it open to listen. A frown claimed her lips when she heard the deep rumble of an unfamiliar male voice below and then silence.

Reaching for her cell phone, Pet glanced around for Parker and scowled when she saw that her nephew hadn’t moved. The eight-year-old was busily shooting her video game character while she was distracted.

“Parker!” she hissed punching in 911. “Stop that! We have a situation here. Didn’t you hear Oksana yelling home invasion?”

“She always yells home invasion,” Parker said with a shrug. “Oksana forgets to close the front door after checking the mail, grabbing the newspaper, or sweeping the front porch. Everyone from neighbors to delivery guys have come in afraid something was wrong ’cause the door is open. When they do, she shrieks home invasion every time. She even yelled home invasion when Mr. Purdy’s cat came in yesterday. It’s her thing.”

“Oh,” Pet breathed, relaxing a little. She didn’t hit the call button on her phone, but she didn’t delete the numbers she’d entered on the keypad either. Oksana still hadn’t spoken again. Pet was debating whether she should call out and ask if everything was okay, or keep their presence in the house a secret and tiptoe to the end of the hall to get a look at who was in the entry, when she heard a soft whisper and then a deep male voice boomed, “Hello? Neighbor!”

“That’s not a neighbor.”

Pet jumped a good foot in the air when Parker spoke those solemn words right next to her. Clutching her chest, she briefly closed her eyes before letting out a slow breath and asking, “How do you know?”

“Because no one in the neighborhood has an accent like that. At least I don’t think anyone does,” he added with a frown.

Pet hadn’t noticed an accent. It had only been two words for heaven’s sake. How had he picked up an accent in two words? She gave her head a slight shake. The kid was just . . . different. Super smart and different. Letting her hand drop from her chest she said, “Well, could it be a new neighbor then?”

“I guess,” Parker agreed dubiously.

“But,” Pet added, debating the matter aloud, “it’s hard to imagine Oksana mistaking a neighbor for someone committing a home invasion.”

Parker arched his eyebrows. “You heard the part about Mr. Purdy’s cat, right?”

Pet merely scowled and shifted her feet as she listened anxiously for Oksana to say something. When there was nothing but silence, she glanced to her phone and then hesitated. She didn’t want to call the police only to find out that it really was a new neighbor just checking on them. Sighing, she asked, “Do you have a phone in here?”

“Yeah. I got a cell phone for Christmas.”

“A cell phone?” she squawked. “You’re like eight. Who the hell buys an eight-year-old a cell phone?”

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