My Lord Monleigh

by Jan Cox Speas

Scotland was a land divided. The rightful Stuart had been driven into exile in France, his country ruled by the dour Presbyterians who had ridden into power on the coattails of Oliver Cromwell's rise to power in England. All who opposed them were rebels and outlaws,to be hunted down and branded as traitors. And the man with the highest price on his head was Monleigh.

Genres: Historical Romance, Romance, Historical Fiction, Scotland, Historical, 17th Century, Dark

297 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1956

About the author

From here:
Jan Cox Speas was born November 5, 1925 in Raleigh, North Carolina. She attended the Women’s College of the University of North Carolina (women could not go to UNC-Chapel Hill until junior year) from1942-46, where she studied creative writing under Hiram Hayden. UNC had a special association with Jan's family: her mother, Francis Howard Cox, who had studied as a high schooler at home in tiny Richlands, NC, was the first in the family to come to the college, taking the train in 1914 to Greensboro to study to be a teacher, and years later Jan’s daughter, Cindy, attended UNC-Chapel Hill in the first year freshmen women were allowed to enroll.

Near the end of the war Jan met and married John Speas on his return from the European theater. Their first child, Cindy, was born in 1948, right after John graduated from Colorado State University.

After several years of traveling, the Speas family settled back in Greensboro in 1954 to be near Jan’s mother, who suffered from chronic ill health. During that time Jan wrote multiple short stories for the widely read “slick” magazine market, including The Post, Ladies Home Journal, McCall’s, Cosmopolitan, and others.

Cindy Speas recalls, “Mom learned to write from reading--and that's what we did as a family every night.” Jan's favorite authors included Daphne DuMaurier, Mary Stewart, Nevil Shute, Elswyth Thane, Inglis Fletcher, Helen MacInnis, Elisabeth Ogilvie, Elizabeth Goudge, Dorothy Sayer and Josephine Tey. “But the most fun Mom and I had,” Cindy confesses, “was with Georgette Heyer's Regency romances--we collected all of the original hardbacks.”

Jan's own first novel, Bride of the McHugh, was published the same month her second child, Greg, was born, in 1954. The Indiana firm Bobbs-Merrill, where her UNC mentor Hiram Hayden was an editor, was the publisher. She published two more historical novels, My Lord Monleigh in 1956, and My Love, My Enemy in 1961, before going back to graduate school in 1962, where she received her Master of Fine Arts under southern poet Randall Jarrell at UNC-Greensboro, writing The Growing Season as her thesis. The Growing Season, published in 1963, was the first thesis accepted in non-standard thesis form for the university library, and is still on their shelves as the actual published book. (UNC-Greensboro also holds the original manuscript of Bride of the MacHugh)

Jan went on to teach English and creative writing as well as American literature and poetry at Guilford College in Greensboro . Her favorite poets were T.S. Elliott and Robert Frost. Sadly, she died of a heart attack in late October 1971 while on the west coast visiting her brother who was dying from a brain tumor, a double tragedy for their mother. “None of us expected it,” says Cindy. “It was a huge personal loss, but also a loss to all her fans.”

At the time of her death, Jan was working on a novel that remains unfinished.

Reviews

[mark monday · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh the misty moors of the Highland, they conceal many things. Troops of men, both English and Highland Scots, preying upon each other, spilling blood and stealing horses. Stealing the hearts of Lowland women as well, visitors to this place far from Edinburgh and its dour world of stifling Presbyterians. And so it is with our heroine, a Lowland orphan now trapped in servitude, suddenly finding herself coming alive, enraptured by this new land and surprised by her own vitality, surprised even more by the infamous Lord Monleigh. This rogue lord, hero to some and horror to others, believes in the freedom of all humans, man and woman alike. He insists upon it, much to the heroine's delight, and then much to her sorrow, she who would prefer to be taken. But insist upon freedom he will: she must make a demand of him, in the end, if she wishes to be taken. He is the beau of this Highland ball, apple of every Highland woman's eye; he is not one who needs to take or to ravish. But she is not the demanding kind, despite her secret pride. She must learn to leave the servitude of the mind and body behind her, if she is to join her life to his, to a revolutionary who prizes freedom above all things.

Jan Cox Speas wrote a slow and dreamy story suffused with melancholy and loss, full of memories of lives ended brutally and far too soon, of dark histories rewritten as tales of triumph, of dark secrets hidden behind stoic faces, of memories buried that yet still live on in the hearts of heroes and villains alike. An atmospheric tale, steeped in the splendor and wildness of nature, of castles nearly emptied of people but full of tragedies past, of bandit raids at midnight, of love made in the cabin of a ship secretly docked. The book is a slow-moving swoon, the heroine falling fast yet as if sinking slowly in water, a mere month in time that feels like forever. The love at its center is a slow-burning candle, offering the slightest glimmer of hope. But that hope is still a flame, it is still a fire - despite how small it may appear!

[Meredith is a hot mess · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sometimes, when I discover a book, that becomes an all time favorite story...I'm so speechless I don't even know where to begin with a review. This is a masterfully written story. One day I might be able to write the review this book deserves. This is the type of book I wish I could forget and read it like it was the first time all over again.

I'm saddened this book is out of print. It is available at open library, & can be found here.

Fave quotes:

It may be true, as some would have it, that death comes only once to each of us. A final reckoning, they deem it, to be faced by each lonely man in his turn; one last bitter obstacle to be surmounted before we are done with this world and may partake of the joyful mysteries of the next.
I do not contradict them. Surely we may believe with impunity whatever satisfies the dictates of our consciences or our creeds, for those who would enlighten us are gone far beyond the reach of our questions. But that day I sat in Margaret Clennon’s chamber, where the late afternoon sun slanted through the tall narrow windows with their velvet hangings, and the fire mulled quietly on the hearth and cast its reflection, like a wayward flame, against my wine goblet of Venetian glass, I learned that truth is not so simple a matter, and death does not always wait upon a final judgment but lies in ambush behind each turning of the road. We die a score of times, foolish humans that we are, and each time the dying is a torment and a pain which has no hope of surcease in another, kinder world beyond.

It was then, when I least expected it, that I caught sight of a man directly before me on the heather.
Incredulous surprise held me motionless; for a long moment, I think, I did not breathe at all. He lay on his back in the heather, hands behind his head and eyes following the exuberant antics of a pair of gulls high above the sea. He was scarcely fifty feet from me, but I would not have seen him had I not paused to look for the track; his leather clothes blended subtly into the muted colours of earth and rock and heather, and he lay so quietly at his ease that I imagined even the gulls must have been unaware of his presence. Afterward, when I thought back to that moment when I first saw him, I wondered why I felt no fear, no premonition of danger. I stood watching him for a time; he was engrossed in this thoughts and the sea birds above him, and there was about him such a sense of stillness and quietude that the whole world began to take on an added quality of peace and utter silence, despite the surge of the sea washing against the rocks below. A cloud moved across the sun, leaving me in shadow, then it moved imperceptibly over the moorland and the shadow went with it, and I stood in the sun again. I heard the cry of a grouse somewhere in the uplands, and as the sound faded away into silence I became aware of the quiet blue hills reaching up into a quieter sky. Nothing stirred but the cloud and the wind over the hilltops; there was no sound beyond the bird cry, the sough of the sea.
I was never to forget the enchantment of that moment, the stillness; the strange rapt peace of that high moor above the sea.

“Have you seen enough?” he asked abruptly. “Will you know me when you see me again?”

“You are forcing me, sir,” I said, “against my will.” When he did not answer, I added, to keep up my courage, “I dare swear I’d receive better treatment at your hands were I a horse, but I am not, and I’ll thank you to unhand me.” “Aye, the best of treatment,” he agreed, and for the first time I noticed that the angry contempt was gone from his voice. “I’d give you a good run to Torra, then a brisk rub-down and a pail of oats before I bedded you down in a warm stall. Would you prefer it?”

But it occurred to me that if there were a god in that wilderness he would be an ancient pagan deity, one of those gods men worshipped in olden days with weird circles of stones and chants of exultation; and he would stride along the hilltops, his massive head and shaggy locks touching the sky, and toss aside great boulders as if they were pebbles, and call forth the furious gales sweeping in from the sea. His voice would thunder from the very heavens, and the sound of his laughter would echo wildly down the deep chasms and corries of the mountains. And so I did not pray, fearing the consequences, but closed my eyes and tried not to think at all.

“It would be very unwise,” I said at last, “for me to ride with you.”
“Very unwise,” he agreed.
“I’ve no way of knowing your intentions.”
“None whatsoever.”
“You may be plotting more wickedness.”
“We may, indeed.”
“It is doubtless improper, as well as dangerous, for me to remain in such infamous company.”
“Doubtless,” he said gravely.
“On the other hand,” I said, “my character is reasonably virtuous and untainted. I see no reason to fear it would be corrupted by your guilt.”

“Why don’t you defend yourself?” he asked suddenly. “Have they left you no self-esteem? Ask me why the devil I brought you along if I’ve nothing to do but insult you. Give me a few sharp words for being so uncivil as to compare you to Margaret Clennon.” He added casually, “You did better by yourself when I took you to Torra. Must I resort to violence before you’ll stand up to me?”
My mind fastened on one sentence. “Why did you bring me?” I asked slowly.“To see if I could make you angry, for one thing,” he said. “I had begun to think you only partly alive.”

“You are an odious man,” I said, “and insufferably rude as well. I can’t imagine why I came, or why I don’t turn back at once.”

“Better, but not good enough. Try again.”

“You are also ill-mannered, disobliging, and offensive.” Aghast at my own ill manners, even in jest, I added, “M’lord.”

“’Tis high time you acknowledged my consequence,” he said, “but it spoils the effect. You should fix me with a haughty stare, leaving no doubt of your loathing for me, and allow your nose to quiver daintily with fury. Have you never been in a hot rage, Anne Lindsay?”



I could not answer. We stood looking at each other, and suddenly the world seemed to recede like the slow wash of the outgoing tide, leaving behind a vast and breathless silence. The rushing sough of water faded away, there was no bird call, no faint rustle of wind in the trees; and I remembered the strange moment I first saw him on the moor above the sea, when I had known that same rapt silence and quietude. Then he put out his hand and pushed back a wayward lock of hair on my forehead. I did not move, for all will to move had left me at his touch, and he held my chin and and lifted my face to his.“Don’t be frightened,” he said quietly.“If I am afraid,” I answered, low, “I have reason enough.”“Are you sure?” No, I was sure of nothing, except that for the space of a single afternoon I had been happier than I had ever been before.




“Why do you concern yourself with me?”

“That is a question no well-bred woman should ask a man,” he said, “but since your curiosity is continually greater than your propriety, I’ll be honest with you.” He smiled, a white flash against his dark face. “I like the way you laugh, Anne Lindsay, and I’ve always been fond of green eyes. And if you’re a good lass on the morrow, I may be persuaded to tell you more about your charms.”


I ran through the woods and across the whispering burn, and Monleigh waited just beyond the woods. He put his hands to my waist without a word and lifted me to the saddle. Then he sprang up behind me and touched spurs to his horse; and we were away, riding like the wind across the hills, while the stars rode their white stallions in furious pursuit across the wide arc of the sky.


He had enthralled me, bewitched and enraptured me; and I knew I played a dangerous and deadly game by so giving myself into his keeping. He was no god, in truth, or even godly. He was only a man, a mere mortal, who went in leather breeks and a dark cloak lined with scarlet, wearing a long sword at his side and a wicked blue dirk in his belt—who felt anger, boredom, indifference, who loved and hated as other men; who stood taller than most and held his dark head with a greater pride.

I was under his spell, as I had come to be under the spell of this west coast of Scotland. And his was the nature of a Highlander, after all, a man forever fighting for the possession of himself. There was a dark heritage in his blood, that same heritage of violence and disquiet which had seethed through Highland history since the beginning of time; and I would imagine that this unrest, this dark vein of passion, must be guarded with a constant vigilance lest it stealthily conquer a man’s soul and abandon him to the darkness.

But you who have read these words may, after all, see him as I see him. You may nod your head and say, “Yes, I understand why she loved him.” You will know, for I have told the truth of it all, what happened at Torra in that dark year of Cromwell’s rule, and why we did as we did, and the strange passions ruling the four of us, Walter Clennon, his sister Margaret, Monleigh, and myself. You will have decided for yourself, I warrant, which of us was the sinner, after all.

And need you ask, now that the tale is done, what became of them, the two who loved so unwisely and so well? Need you wonder, How did it go with them, how was it in the end?

[Marquise · Rating 5 out of 5]

At first, I was fearful this would turn out to be just one of those ridiculous Highlands romances, but fortunately it wasn't so. This was a lovely story, with a very long-fuse romance that takes its sweet time to come to fruition (so readers must be patient, the payoff is good), and well-rounded characters. The plot centres more on the growth of the heroine, who is also the narrator, and there's just kisses and vague mentions in passing of more going on between the couple, so for those who like their romances clean, this should be right up their alley.

[Linda (NOT RECEIVING NOTIFICATIONS) · Rating 4 out of 5]

“It seldom pleases a man to have his possessions treated with such disrespect.” What a powerful statement and uttered by a man who appeared to have it all. It is for you to learn his identity.

My Lord Monleigh ingested the 1650s. The romance encompassed love, hate and mental health issues. Truth and falsehoods were expressed and Miss Anne Lindsey discovered some dark secrets.

Prepare yourself for a slow beginning but don’t be discouraged. There were also a couple impressions of a bodice ripper but what transpired faded to black. I am not a big fan of this genre but because of how Ms. Speas’ wrote her narration, it felt true to the era.

All in all, the window to Anne’s life was a splendid entertainment with a rich historical feel and some delightful twists.

[Regan Walker · Rating 5 out of 5]

A Beautifully Written, Poignant Love Story From the Scottish Highlands in the late 17th Century

This is set in the Scottish Highlands in the late 17th century (mostly on the west coast) during the time when the Scots fell under Cromwell’s cruel hand as King Charles lived in exile in France. The Catholic Royalists, such as our hero, Lord Monleigh, faced opposition from both the English and the Covenanters (Scottish Presbyterians).

The story has a melancholy feel that persists as 23-year-old spinster, Anne Lindsey, who lost her parents and then her relatives with whom she was living, is forced to live with staunch Covenanters who treat her like a servant. As the tale begins, Simon, the Earl of Monleigh, who Anne knows, is in prison in Edinburgh awaiting death while Anne’s benefactors look forward to his execution. Anne looks back at her memories of Lord Monleigh, beginning with the night she met him on the moors high above the ocean, and the rest of the story unfolds.

Monleigh is man who can be a wise, though at times hard, leader of his clan, fighting to restore his king, but at the same time a charismatic charmer of the lasses. When he focuses his attentions on innocent and beautiful Anne, she has no will to resist. He exposes her to adventure, music and passion she has not known, but has longed for. He believes he has rescued her from a dismal life, but he has also exposed her to danger, and he offers her no future. He is hunted by the English for his raiding and smuggling, something he does to pay the high English fees levied on the Scots, and knows the noose is tightening about his neck.

In Anne’s own words: “He had enthralled me, bewitched and enraptured me; and I knew I played a dangerous and deadly game by so giving myself into his keeping. He was no god, in truth, or even godly. He was only a man, a mere mortal, who went in leather breeks and a dark cloak lined with scarlet, wearing a long sword at his side and a wicked blue dirk in his belt—who felt anger, boredom, indifference, who loved and hated as other men; who stood taller than most and held his dark head with a greater pride.”

The story is told through Anne’s perspective and in the first person, and somehow that seemed to fit. It is beautifully written with near magical dialog and tender emotions on every page. I cannot recommend it highly enough to those who love the deep historicals from Scotland. It’s a keeper.

Should you wish to acquire it, at the moment, you will have to buy it used and in paperback, but trust me, it will be worth it. And while you’re at it, I recommend getting Bride of the MacHugh, also by Speas, and equally good (see my review).

[Christine · Rating 5 out of 5]

I wonder how much treasure time has buried after I read such a book as this, what beautiful things have we made and lost. My Lord Monleigh is a lyrical lost world, inheritor of Dumas' swashbuckling adventurers, cavaliers, lovers, schemers, and fighters. It's contains one of the most beautiful, melancholy and descriptive prose I've ever read. It was so good I read it twice, consecutively. Like Anne bewitched by the windswept moors, I fell under its spell, enthralled by the language, the rapturous Scottish sky and the blazing sea.

For a book written in the 1950s, about a straight-corseted period in English history under Cromwell rule, the eponymous hero the Earl of Monleigh was particularly progressive. Read Karla's excellent review for a synopsis. He cares nothing for the Church's sanctimonious dictum, he thinks men (and women) should believe and worship as they please, and boink whoever they please. From the moment he met our constricted heroine, he made it clear he wanted only one thing, and that's to go to bed with her, with no promises of any kind other than they would enjoy each other. When the Church frowns on dancing and personal happiness of any kind, that's a tough proposition to accept, especially for an impoverished young woman of no wealth nor prospect, who was looking for a respectable life to escape indentured servitude.

Monleigh is a fascinating character, but he gave me such heartburn, he could be so infuriating. It's a testament to how good the writing is that I feel the impact of this character's actions so personally. He's presented as an almost omniscient guardian figure to Anne's ward; his courtship is always at the right pace, he never pushes her past what she's ready for. I was mildly irritated with his patronizing attitude, which was oddly inconsistent. He spares no effort to manipulate Anne into his bed, but he balks at pushing her in a direction she must go for them to be together. One has to wonder where he draws the line: how are all his persuasive actions different from a straight-up ask. That whole business of Monleigh refusing to verbalize what he wants, that drove me crazy. Anne loves him and he loves her (we think, he never says) but he won't ask her to be with him, because of some stupid reason about her making her own choices. In the end, she has to ask him? Well yes, Monleigh is not a guy who proposes, he just wants to somehow end up with the girl.

There is a tantalizing backstory of The Other Woman, one that may explain why Monleigh is a self-preserving cold-blooded utilitarian cad. About 3 years before where our story began, a proto-Anne named Lucy Gordon fell in love with Monleigh, and he married her. She was dead within a year, and it is rumored he killed her. Shades of Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester and Wide Sargasso Sea. Major spoilers ahead.

Here's Monleigh's narrative:

“I did not kill her, Anne. She killed herself, with the aid of a dirty old woman she found somewhere in the hills. She did not want the bairn she carried, and she managed to rid herself of it. She gave me no chance to kill her; she was dying before I knew.” His voice still level and quiet, he added, “But had I known, I would have strangled her to death and found great pleasure in it.”

Woa! What? Lucy Gordon, who was in love with Monleigh, who Monleigh married, died from a botched abortion. Was it Monleigh's baby or someone else's baby? I don't think it's some other man's baby, Lucy couldn't have found another paramour so quickly after marrying Monleigh, and the story doesn't seem to allude to another love. So it's Monleigh's baby, and she didn't want it. Why not? Other details in the book described Lucy as unhappy, and possessive of Monleigh, who guards jealously his ambitions, his duty to his King, which he considers greater than any diverting lass. The only reading possible is Lucy fell out of love with Monleigh when the reality of life with Monleigh was revealed to her, and she came to resent him because he withheld himself from her, and she didn't want to be barefoot and pregnant while Monleigh raided the English on his boys' bowling nights. So Lucy botches an abortion and dies, Monleigh realizes his seductive ways leads to grief, and embarks on a take-no-prisoner friends-with-benefits-only lifestyle. That's when poor hapless Anne met him, unaware of the tragedy that has befallen her predecessor.

In other ways Monleigh was really a douche. After he rejects Anne (oh he said he didn't, but there's no other interpretation really) and shoves her into a rival's arms, he shows up at her wedding eve celebration and taunts her with her dreams that she had confided in him. He mocks her desire for peace and safety, of counting linens and jam jars and having a bunch of well-behaved children. The thing was awful and terribly cruel in the re-read, imagine if you told someone the innermost desire of your heart, and they laughed and made you feel small for wanting what you wanted. Well what else is Anne supposed to dream about, she lost her parents in a war at 12 and have been not much better than a servant to her cruel relatives since then. What's wrong with wanting a little safety and security in this world, a family, and a husband who's not hunted by the authorities, thrown in the pokey, or put on death row, I mean the gibbet. WTF Monleigh, you bitter cynical shit, WTF? I suppose in a more charitable reading, Monleigh's cruelty could be interpreted as his disgust with his inability to provide for Anne the things she needs -- “And you have forgotten, it would seem, that my armour is slightly tarnished from hard usage.” Bitter much, Monleigh, you judgy bitch?


The ending is sort of left to the imagination of the reader. For all of Monleigh's protest that his ship is no place for the bairns, he ends up taking his daughter on it. I'm not quite sure why Monleigh came back for Anne at all, it's not like they had unfinished business. Past the lyrical closing paragraph, I don't think they'll have a happy ending, these two. Between the two, Anne sacrificed everything she dreamed of, and he nothing. In the end he couldn't even ask her to come with him.

This is a beautifully written book, lyrical, haunting, evocative. It reminds me of another great read, The Silver Devil in which the hero is such a frustrating and angering character to read.

[Misfit]

Very cool. This just popped up on my PBS wishlist as available. Woohoo!

[Katherine · Rating 5 out of 5]

The historical romance, My Lord Monleigh, is now sadly out-of-print and so sought after that the price of a copy can be prohibitive; but so worth it if you're lucky enough to come across one.

I'm not a big fan of romance books, not because I don't like romance, but simply because anymore too often they read as silly and predictable, and frankly are more about steamy encounters and explicit scenes (No thank you!) than they are about love or anything of substance. And I might add that the number one criteria for me is that a book needs to be well-written. Which unfortunately doesn't seem to be a high priority in many of the romance books that are currently so highly lauded.

However this, this is a romance book I can love. Here you find well-drawn characters, a wonderful plot, and a story of passion. Yes, passion, but with meaning and substance. Reading this made me wish Jan Cox Speas had written a whole shelf of books, instead of just four.

Highly recommended (if you can find a copy)!

[SamuraiKitty · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great story, a favorite book.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'd have to put this maybe in the middle of the Jan Cox Speas books. The plot is more clear than Bride of the McHugh, not as clear as My Love, My Enemy. More suspenseful than the latter, about the same as Bride of the McHugh. Speas also in this book leaves you a bit offstage wondering what is happening, but still, it's worth a read. You'll understand it better if you know more about Scottish history than I do. The characters are well-drawn, he's another alpha hero, but there were times I wanted to slap him silly. Anne Lindsay isn't the kind of strong-willed female we're used to today, but she gets better as the book goes on. I guess that's what we want, growth.

But the suspense is great, and you are really transported back in time, where women had no say in who they married. Makes one glad one lives in the modern world!

[Gurl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great romantic saga that is tightly meshed with the historical timeline.

Ms. Speas had a talent for conveying so much with her writing. Her characters are wonderful, both heros/heroines and villains alike. Proof that you don't need play-by-play in the bedroom to generate heat and emotion

[Bridget Vollmer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Now this is a love story

[Reina · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really liked this book. It's beautifully written in the first person POV, and I was hooked after the first few paragraphs. It begins quickly, and I felt the pacing of the book was just right. Simon was a really charismatic male lead, definitely one of my favorite heroes and Anne was an admirable heroine it was lovely to read and witness her growth over the course of the story. The book begins near the end with Anne recounting her memories of her time with Simon Lord Monleigh, and continues from there. This following passage in the opening chapter caught my attention, I knew then that this was going to be a great read:

“I did not know what he thought, or what he remembered. But I had my own memories, and mayhap they would comfort me when the slow tears fell and the wicked pain, no longer numbed by shocked, twisted inside me like a sharp knife’s turning.
I put my elbows on the casement, chin in my hands, and thought of that long-ago day when I had first known that no matter his crimes, no matter how evil the world regarded him, if he came riding down from Torra with his tartan blazing red in the sun and laughter on his mouth, and held out his hand to me, I would go with him to the ends of the earth and back again.
And the day I met him, when I first came to know the meaning of witchcraft, the day he began to bewitch me, to weave his spell of enchantment over me, and in the doing gave me life and warmth and happiness I had never known before, and likely would not know again.
Aye, I remember that day at Clennon House, in the wild western Highlands of Scotland"

There are many memorable passages and quote worthy parts of this novel, I certainly won't be forgetting it. My only criticism would be that I felt the ending was a bit flat, but I wouldn't rate it any less because of that. I would definitely recommend this book; good pacing, memorable dialogue, likable characters, and the quintessential HEA.

[Tammy · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had much higher expectations for this book as I thoroughly enjoyed My Love, My Enemy.
But spoiler alert: the heroine is raped by the hero (in a non descriptive manner) and then the hero proceeds to tell her he had to do it so the heroine can get over her fear of sexual relations. The aftermath of the rape was written in a romantic light. This probably had a lot to do with the fact that the book was written in the 50s. It is also heavily implied that the heroine is tortured/raped by the antagonist, and yet the heroine is very blasé about it after the fact.

[Tracy · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is still today my all time favorite book. I think it is because Jan Cox Speas wrote such a beautiful story. A lot of the books written in 1954 were very sexist and this book spoke volumes to me about Simon Stewart - Lord Monleigh wanting the heroine Anne Lindsey to choose to live her own life. She has always been dependent on someone and he simply wants her to make her own decisions. This is a very simple synopsis and it is very different from the stories today in which sex (don't get me wrong, I love a good hot love story!) is very prevalent but even with lack of sex and steamy scenes, you felt the chemistry between these two. I have the original hard cover and also the paperback. Very hard to fine but if you get a chance I would highly recommend.

[Joan]

One of my all time favorite reads.

[Ellenb]

An old favorite. Read it years after Bride of the McHugh

[JFosbookboss · Rating 1 out of 5]

Reading this book is like watching paint dry! Yikes!

[BRNTerri · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was disappointed in this. I finally bought it for $13 after searching for several years then horded it for another 4.5 years before reading it. I can't understand why only one person on Goodreads has mentioned the rape. I know it happened but I was seriously doubting it until I got to a review that mentioned it. It was written in such a weird way that left me really confused. The story was too condensed and felt shorter than 297 pages. If I hadn't read on Word Wenches blog I'd not have known this took place in the 17th century. I had no sense of the timespan. I don't know how old Simon is or anything about his background except what really happened to his wife. I only know he's got dark hair and gray eyes. I like bad characters so I liked Margaret Clennon but I was also hoping something bad would happen to her as punishment for being a nasty person. I really like the dark and drab tone of the book and that Anne seems depressed. You don't get that much in historical romance so it was a nice change.

Rape scene is here.

You can read the book for free at Archive.org.

[ree · Rating 5 out of 5]

"And in that steadfast integrity of his, I knew I had found my strength, my salvation, my hope. For there was only one certain peace, one security, one place for me in all the world, and it was mine whenever I reached out for him and found him there. He had never failed me; he had always been there, he would ever be, and it had taken me a wretchedly long while to understand. For me he was the clean yellow sun on a summer morn; he was the warmth of a leaping fire on a hard cold day, the ineffable joy of a snowflake caught in one’s lashes to change the harsh world into a glittering prism of silver and white; he was the beauty of crimson roses in a copper bowl, of a heart-shaking sunset behind blue Highland hills; he was the fierce wild lilt in the blood that follows the skirl of pipes into battle, the blessed comfort of hot tears after a frozen moment of grief."

this or nothing. THIS OR NOTHING.

[Shelby Dawson · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is possibly the most heartbreaking and frustrating three (more like a 2.5) star I’ve ever dished out.

I bought this because I liked the cover and expected it to be so garbage it was comical. Then I started reading it and for 189 pages I was so gripped and so impressed by the writing and was sure it would be a five star read.

But then this thing happened, and I was so angry, and it just got a little bit worse from there. The writing style is beautiful, the imagery so clear, the plot had so much potential! Sadly it’s not a timeless read and the problems that were through out most books written during its time are heeeaaavvveeeyyyy in this one.

[Heather · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars. So so good. I really loved this. Not quite enough to be on my all time favorites, but maybe after another reading it will be. I was pretty worried about the ending the whole time though. Very enjoyable read.

[Andrea AKA Catsos Person]

NTS: Copies are expensive, but avail @ OL. Or borrow ILL.

[Kim Kaso]

Rating based on good memories of reading back in the day.

[Giulia · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really couldnt get into it
no matter how many things were happening it still felt uneventful and boring

[Sasha · Rating 3 out of 5]

"He had appraised himself honestly, and in doing so had found the honesty of greater value than the sum of the appraisal.” - (pg. 295)

I have so many conflicting feelings about this book. On the one hand, it was a rather complex romance with well thought out and carefully crafted characters (and no graphic scenes whatsoever, yay for old romances!). On the other, it was a deeply flawed and dated book, with views/characterizations of men and women from another era. Some of the language used to describe a certain scene was so jarringly wrong that I almost stopped reading, even if it wasn't considered such a big deal when the book was written and wasn't what the author meant to convey.

But I ended up enjoying the book quite a bit. Things really picked up in the last 90 or so pages and a lot of hidden motives for things were revealed in the end. I realized that I'm a huge fan of hidden motives, as it makes the characters and their actions so much more interesting. This book also strongly reminded me of Karen Marie Moning's books, with Anne and Monleigh's relationship dynamic/characterization sort of mirroring that of Mac and Barrons. I would not at all be surprised to learn that Moning had read this and drew upon it heftily for inspiration. I kept thinking this book felt like a precursor to her series.

Overall, I'm not sure what to rate this. I thought the last third/quarter of the book was worthy of 5 stars, but there were also parts of it that I'd give 1 star. Settling for 3/3.5 stars, though may bump to 4 upon further consideration.

Note -- for the people who desperately want to read this but don't want to shell out the $100 bucks necessary to obtain a copy since it's been out of print so long, there is an electronic copy of the book that can be borrowed from the Internet Archive: https://archive.org.

Listening Soundtrack:
- She Remembers - Max Richter
- I Feel Alive - Ramin Djawadi
- Justice - Patrick Doyle
- I'm Here, The House - Fernando Velazquez
- Lord M - Martin Phipps
- End Credits - Dan Jones, BBC National Orchestra of Wales

[Z. · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5ish? rounded up. The historical setting is very well developed -- I think the whole period from the lead-in to the English Civil War through the Restoration is fascinating, though I didn't know much about how it affected Scotland before reading this book. This is pretty much the opposite of a wallpaper historical; the political and religious situation in the Highlands and in Edinburgh is really important to the development of the characters and plot.

Unlike most historical romance novels published today, this one is told entirely in first person from the heroine's perspective, and the heroine is the one who really changes through the course of the story. I really enjoyed her progression as she develops a broader understanding of herself and the world around her. I skimmed some other reviews and saw that some people felt that the heroine was too passive, and while I sort of understand where they're coming from, I don't agree. She's a woman of her time and the options available to her are very much limited, but I never felt like she was a doormat.

What works less well for me is the romance. I found their relationship interesting, definitely, but I actually think this might have been a stronger book without the romantic HEA (though of course I did expect it). It worked much better for me as historical fiction with a coming of age story for the heroine, than as a romance.

Also of note: there's a (not at all graphic) nonconsent/dubious consent scene between the hero and heroine. I would consider it a "forced seduction" of the kind that was much more acceptable when this book was first published in the 1950s than it is now. The idea, I think, is that the heroine does want to have sex with him but panics on the point of consummating their relationship because she's been forced by circumstance to repress her desires (not just sexual ones) for most of her life, and on some level she doesn't want to take responsibility for acting on them. Neither of them regrets that it happened. That said, I really wasn't comfortable with the scene and I wish it wasn't there, especially because the heroine is later raped by another man.

[Alucard]

This looks like Ted coconis art.