Beware a Scot's Revenge
The School for Heiresses
Author: Sabrina Jeffries
"Someone's going to call your bluff someday, Venetia -- you'd better hope it's not a handsome man."--
Mrs. Charlotte Harris, headmistressLady Venetia Campbell's visit to her childhood home in Scotland
takes a dramatic turn when she's kidnapped at pistol point by her father's sworn enemy. Sir Lachlan
Ross is widely feared in his guise as The Scottish Scourge, but Venetia remembers her former neighbor
as a handsome youth whose attentions she craved. Now a wickedly sexy man, Lachlan's appeal is even
more intoxicating...and much more dangerous. Though Lachlan tries to treat her as his foe, his scorching
kisses tell another story. And despite his plan to use her as a weapon against her father, Venetia is
determined that Lachlan's lust for revenge will be trumped by an even more powerful desire....
Chapter OneEdinburghAugust 20, 1822Dear Cousin,I worry about Venetia's trip to Scotland. Yes, I know
what the papers reported -- that the Scottish Scourge was killed three months ago in a fight with Sir
Lachlan Ross that left both men dead. Still, considering the Scourge's mysterious grievance against the
earl, I'd feel easier if someone could produce the villain's body.Your anxious relation,CharlotteMama
would have loved this," Venetia said wistfully to her aunt, Maggie Douglas, the Viscountess Kerr. They
stood in line waiting to be announced at the True Highlander Celtic Society's masquerade ball, now near
enough to hear bagpipes skirling from inside the Edinburgh Assembly Rooms. "Don't you just adore the
tartans and strathspeys and costumes and -- "" -- packed streets and wretched food and ghastly
accommodations?" Aunt Maggie rolled her green eyes, the same shade as her niece's. "Not a bit. Unlike
you -- and my sister, when she was alive -- I prefer the comforts of London. Why, I haven't had a wink of
sleep since we arrived.""So the snoring I hear nightly comes from our baggage?" Venetia teased."Mind
your tongue, or I'll make you take the lumpy side of the mattress."Venetia laughed. "Forgive me. You've
been very good to put up with it."Their lodgings truly were awful, but they'd been lucky even to find them.
Every spare bedroom, garret, and cellar had been spoken for by the hordes that had descended upon
Edinburgh to witness the first visit of a reigning English monarch to Scotland in nearly two centuries.But
Venetia didn't mind their miserable inn room. She'd waited sixteen years to return to Scotland, and she
wouldn't let a flat pillow and a lumpy mattress -- or a grousing chaperone -- dampen her pleasure.Venetia
squeezed her aunt's hand as the line moved forward. "You can't know how much I appreciate your
accompanying me. Otherwise, I would never have convinced Papa to let me come.""I'm rather shocked
that you did. However did you manage it?""Oh, Papa is easy enough to handle. I only had to make one
tiny promise.""And what was that?"She cast her aunt a game smile. "To accept a proposal of marriage in
the next year.""That isn't exactly a tiny promise, my dear. And who is the lucky fellow?""Lord, I don't
know. Anyone I can endure, I suppose." And anyone passing the inspection of Mrs. Charlotte Harris and
the mysterious Cousin Michael, who routinely provided information about men in society to Venetia's
schoolmistress."Papa worries I'll never find a husband," Venetia explained. In truth, she'd begun to worry
the same thing."A lady like you will always have proposals," her aunt said with a dismissive wave of her
jeweled fingers."It's not a dearth of proposals that worries him. It's my lack of interest in any of them."
She'd promised her mother never to marry any man who didn't rouse her senses, whatever that meant.
When Mama had elicited the promise, she hadn't said it was because of Papa, but Venetia often
wondered..."So have you any particular men in mind?" her aunt asked.She blew out a long breath. "No,
but I hope to find someone in Scotland, away from the fortune hunters and dull-witted English lords. I
want a Scottish laird with a venerable old name, who lives and breathes the Highlands -- ""Like the fellows
in those ballads you love to collect, I suppose."Her aunt's contempt was plain. "Why not?"...
By the time Sabrina Jeffries was eighteen, she'd eaten chicken heads and jellyfish, been chased by a
baby elephant, seen countless cobras and pythons, had the entire series of rabies shots, and visited rain
forests and rubber plantations. But that wasn't enough excitement for her; to escape her mundane life as
a missionary's daughter, she read romance novels. Now she writes romance novels, and her bestselling,
award-winning tales of strong women and sexy, dangerous men have been translated all over the world.
Although she now lives in North Carolina with her husband and son, her colorful life has given her plenty of
inspiration for more novels. Visit her website at...