Everyone called her Mad Annie. Until now, John Huxley hadn’t understood why. True, she occasionally talked to herself. But she’d always appeared sane enough to him—fiery and foul-mouthed, impertinent and utterly unconcerned with convention. But sane.
4.5/5. Oh my, this one is almost the perfect antidote to the heartbreaking despair we witness every day all over the world currently. It's been a long time since a book has made me laugh out loud so much. I highly enjoyed Braden's debut series, but this first book in her new series just raised the bar a notch. The star of the book is without a doubt Annie Tulloch, the hoydenish, straight-talking and fiery trews-wearing Highlander. Raised by her stepfather alongside her four brawny stepbrothers following her mother's death, what she lacks in size, she more than makes up for in attitude and spirit. If her sharp tongue doesn't keep the men in her household in line, her threat of refusing them a taste of her scrumptious home-cooking will do the trick.
When Englishman John Huxley intended to get away from London's frenetic marriage mart, he did not imagine himself still being chained to a cold, crumbling and haunted pile of bricks in the Scottish Highlands many months hence. As an adventurer who has been all over the world, he adapts relatively quickly to the harsh weather, language and even the unidentifiable food,
“What is it?” he inquired.
Marjorie MacDonnell, Dougal’s mother, grinned until her angular cheeks rounded. She used her apron to wipe her hands. “Skink, sir. Cooked as ye’d find it round Moray.”
Just how badly did these Scots hate him? Enough for poison?
but takes far longer to get used to the outlandish people, not least of all the outrageous daughter of the man responsible for him being stuck in the godforsaken place. She is nothing like the ladies of Paris or London, eschewing feminine stays and fashionable dresses and all sense of propriety.
She snorted. Shook her head. The Englishman was desperate to fit her into a frame he understood. Well, she didn’t fit. And he could stow his suppositions up his—
The insults flying out of her mouth are enough to make a seasoned man blush.
She eyed the calluses on his palms and fingertips before raising a brow. “Well, now, a man with only himself for company will test his grip a wee bit more than average. Careful ye dinnae go blind, English.”
“I want to marry ye—”
He smirked around a new mouthful. “I knew it.”
“—like I’d want a disease involvin’ pustules in unmentionable places.”
Swallowing nearly choked him.
“Given how many ‘better women’ have tossed their skirts to the skies for the honor of landin’ in yer bed, I’m guessin’ I cannae have one without the other.”
However, they soon work out that they need one another's assistance in order to reach their respective goals - he, to learn the ways of a Highlander to win a wager with her stepfather and she, to learn how to act more lady-like in order to marry a lord. Smoothing out Annie's rough edges turns out to be a far more demanding task than tossing large cabers around, especially when he becomes rather fond of said edges and her multitude of curves.
Annie was just the most lovable heroine. Tough and without any artifice, but with a hint of vulnerability and a genuine fondness for the males who took her in and raised her as one of their own. Her gruff but soft-hearted stepfather, in particular, was a dear.
“We’re like Highland thistles, you and I. Tough and stubborn. A mite hostile when we must be. Our nature doesnae suit everybody. But we grow where we’ve landed. We hold our ground. And we dinnae shrink from a fight, even when we’re trampled. Ye ken?”
John started off reserved and a bit surly, not because he's English but because he's dragged a bit of emotional baggage to the Highlands with him and was naturally distrustful of Annie's motives.
“First compromisin’ then seduction. Are ye still believin’ I’m here to trap ye into marriage?”
“In my experience, a woman only asks about a man’s wealth when she seeks to marry it. And a lady never asks.”
She held her arms out to her sides and looked down at herself. “Well, now, I havenae the sort of acquaintance with fine ladies and proper gentlemen as ye, English. And I must admit ye’re bonnie as a wee daisy clutched betwixt the teeth of a wee faery floatin’ over a wee waterfall made of sunbeams.” She grinned up at him. “But if this is seduction, I’m dyin’ a spinster.”
Despite his frequent exasperation with her unconventional behaviour, he nevertheless always treated her with respect and just a wee bit of protectiveness.
“We agreed you shouldn’t come here alone, Miss Tulloch.”
“Nah. You agreed. I let ye think ye were right. Sometimes a man needs a wee victory amidst all the losin’.”
Of course, it took him a while to concede that the human whirlwind that was Annie had well and truly knocked him off his feet.
“It’s damned disorienting, I know,” Robert said quietly. “The first time you realize what’s happened, it changes who you are.” He patted John’s shoulder, and even that small nudge set him off balance. Perhaps it was the whisky.
There's a bit of a paranormal subplot going on which is not usually my thing, but it worked well and helped to explain Annie as a person. Half a star was deducted for the ending which was slightly unsatisfying in terms of tying up loose ends regarding the villain's role. John Huxley is the brother of some of the heroines in the first series and quite a few of the characters from series one dropped in but this can definitely be read as a stand-alone. I'm looking forward to Broderick's book in the future (her affable and handsome brother who became a scarred and angry man after a prison ordeal during the course of the book).
“Good God, you are the most vexing—”
“Besides, ye havenae so much as kissed me, English. What sort of sullying can there be without kissin’? None at all, I’d say.”
He froze. Pinned her with a hazel gaze that burned gold. He mouthed a foul epithet then shook his head. “I won’t kiss you,” he breathed.
“I wasnae askin’.” Only a small lie, really.