Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever?
Genre: Medieval Romance
Publication Date: November 18, 2015
What foul devilry is this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry. Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue and knife is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. The pain would be too much to bear should he ever leave again.
Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her hatred, the Templar knight weds. This time she will travel with him and he will win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Evil deeds weave a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and missives. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in heaven will he rekindle the passion they once shared.
Cover:
What foul devilry is
this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her
knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry. Then he denies their son? Heed
this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every
word. The sharp edge of her tongue and knife is the only welcome he’ll get.
She’ll not marry him. Besides, the pain would be too much to bear should he
ever leave again.
Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her hatred, the Templar knight weds. This time she will travel with him and he will win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Evil deeds weave a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and missives. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in heaven will he rekindle the passion they once shared.
Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her hatred, the Templar knight weds. This time she will travel with him and he will win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Evil deeds weave a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and missives. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in heaven will he rekindle the passion they once shared.
Links:
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27212966
Excerpt
Prologue
England,
near London Towne
Year of
our Lord 1276
Behind
them, massive columns stood tall as their only chaperones in the ancient Roman
bathhouse. Peepers croaked, night birds lamented, and water gurgled as it
cascaded down from each of the three tiers. Sir Thomas led her deeper into the
shadows made by blue moonlight. Tiny waves of light reflected off the pools and
onto his beautiful Norman features.
The
dark centers of his eyes widened as he brushed his lips over hers. “You
shouldn’t be here.”
“You
don’t want me?” Merry’s lower lip quivered. Thick black hair caressed the
tender places between her fingers when she reached her hands to the back of his
head. Warmth spread from where their lower halves met and she kissed him with
all her being.
Her
Templar knight groaned. “I’ve promised your liege that I’ll not lay with you
until we’re wed. If we continue down this road, my honor will be questioned.”
Letting
go of his silky wet locks, she reached into her purse and waved six colorful
ribbons of yarn in front of his nose. “But I brought these.”
He
leaned over to where he’d placed his sword, belt, and boots and came up with
similar lengths of wool. “As did I.”
Her
cheeks ached with the wide grin she sent his way. “Anon. Let’s do it.”
Rough
palms cupped her face as the man she adored bore a hole into her soul with his
gaze. “Lass, ’tis serious. We’ll be hand-fasted. Are you sure you want this?”
She
covered his hands with her own and fell into the depths of those magnificent
eyes. The drum in her chest beat faster and her lips parted. “I’m six and ten
seasons. I know my own mind.”
A soft
moan escaped his perfect lips and his kiss went deeper than any of the others
they’d shared all summer. One of his hands slid to the back of her head and the
other glided down her back and clamped her bottom globe. He pulled her tight to
his hard want and her mind filled with lustful thoughts.
Warm
breath met her ear. “We’ll have a proper wedding when I return from London
Towne in a fortnight. Ready?”
She
nodded and held forth her hand with the yarns.
Never
releasing her from his fierce gaze, he clasped his sword arm to hers, tied them
together with the yarn, and bound them forever. “I take thee as my wife.”
With
eyes watering, her hand shook as she brushed a dark lock from his blue-gray
eye. “I take thee as my husband for all eternity.”
He
flicked his cloak open and lay her down. Then there was only him; his scent,
his tongue, and his hands pulling her so close that she mayhap died and went to
heaven. He went to his knees with a small growl in his chest and removed his
colors. Slivers of moonbeams danced across his glorious body. Strength bumps
above his navel led down to small curls of black hair. The ‘V’ pointed to a
staff so large, surely it would never fit.
Holy mother of God. Her
mouth lost its liquid and she swallowed hard.
“Don’t
worry, love, all will be well.” He leaned over and devoured her in gentle
kisses. Their tongues danced and her heart soared. One knee lifted, he
straddled her, and found the hem of her tunic. He muttered an apology as it
tore when it caught coming over her head. Then his mouth dropped open, his hard
pintle danced upon her navel, and he sucked in his breath. “Bloody love of
Christ. You’re perfect.”
She
arched up so that the aching wet spot between her legs could rub against his
length. His soft kisses started at her mouth, lowered to her breast, and he
suckled.
“Please . . .” The lips between her legs
swelled. She moaned at the sweetness of his hands kneading her breasts and his
tongue licking the tips of her ever-hardening nipples.
He
spread her legs wide with the outside of his knees and rasped, “We play with
fire.”
A
calloused fingertip rubbed the pebble between her legs, she closed her eyes,
and prayed for release. Never had she experienced such need, such wanting. It
was as if the gates of heaven were open and she but a foot away.
His wet
tongue laved the perfect spot and she gasped. Heated breath from his hiss met
her folds and she shivered. A gentle nibble and . . . Oh, dear God in heaven .
. . She burst apart, bright lights flashed behind her lids, and her body shook
in perfect release.
He slid
up her naked body and kissed her fiercely upon the lips, tasting of her. “Clamp
your thighs around my rod.”
She did
as told and he rubbed it against her sensitive nub repeatedly, but did not
enter her. He thrust once more, she clamped him tight, and he shouted into her
mouth. His release sent her over the cliff again and she went to holy bliss as
sticky fluid lubricated her inner thighs.
“You’re
mine.” He fell onto his side, panting.
She
sighed and turned toward him. When their breathing calmed, she said, “I wish you
didn’t have to go.”
“But I
do and you should be off to your pallet. Soon, we’ll lay together every night
and I shall breach you as a proper husband does his wife.” He reached across
her body for her skin of wine lying on the mosaic tiles and drank deep.
A tiny
squeak escaped her lips. “Wait, no. Thomas, don’t!”
He
looked at her askance and his eyes darkened with a fierce scowl. “What was in
that draught?”
She
shivered. “Just a foolish love potion from old Agatha. I wasn’t really going to
use it.”
He moaned
and his eyes rolled to the top of his head. “’Tis no love potion, ’tis juice of
the poppies. Quickly, get dressed and leave. You’ve no idea its affect upon
me.”
“I
won’t. This is all my fault. Oh, what have I done?”
“Merry.
Do as I say. Go.” His body convulsed.
Sobbing,
she held him, not daring to leave and not daring to tell a soul. He hardened
again and this time there was no stopping, no restraint, just his pure love
inside her. He was fierce and hard and beautiful all at the same time. When his
breathing became calm, and his moaning stopped, she dressed and ran back to her
chambers, no longer a virgin. Already the cock crowed and pale orange of the
rising sun lit the grassy knolls in the distance.
Excerpt2:
“My
lord, your castle awaits to the north and your relatives may be held captive.
We must turn back.” The words were spoken by Harold-the-Younger who would be
forgiven, just this once, for his impertinence.
“And my
wife is missing. Thank you for stating the obvious. If you can’t be more helpful,
I suggest your mouth be best used for taking in breath.”
Jacob
pointed down the river. “There. What’s that?”
Thomas’
heart sank. A flat bottomed boat lay bobbing upside down against the bank of
the river. A woman’s body lay beside it in a pool of blood. He swallowed hard
and dug spurs into Demon’s side. His charger tossed his head, snorted, and
veered, but Thomas gained control and raced toward the grisly scene.
A dog
chewed at a headless mass of flesh and snarled. He kicked the animal away,
squatted, and cursed. Pieces of Merry’s bloodied tunic twisted among the
innards. He dropped to his knees and shouted with first raised into the air.
“Be ye damned forever.” Part of the curse was for whoever had just killed her,
the other for God, and lastly for himself.
Assessing
the gore was the hardest thing he’d ever done. What was left of the flesh had
the length and breadth of his wife. One arm was cleaved at the wrist. His soul
refused to acknowledge the scene in front of his eyes and he refused to mourn.
Not yet. He’d find the bastard who’d done this to her, cleave him in to small
bits, and let the vultures feed.
A horse
whinnied behind him and Jacob’s flat voice spoke, “The head is gone.”
“Let me
be. I’ll bury her. Alone.” He gathered stones and placed them beside the body.
“It’s
way too opportune that the poor woman’s head and hand are missing. I smell a
ruse.”
The
blackness that threatened to devour his soul wouldn’t let in one ray of hope.
“Do as you will. I’ll bury what’s left of her.”
Thomas
scoured the flood plain for a sign of her. Was it possible? Crows circled
above, but other than that, the land lay bare. All signs and tracks around the
body had been swept away. The coward was clever. About a mile beyond, a forest
loomed. Perhaps the woman-slayer trembled there.
Having
no shovel, but many a stone, Thomas moved the body parts to a central area and
covered them. With none to watch, tears came unbidden as he placed the last
round stone atop what was left of her body. He gasped for air, knowing not how
to go on, but knowing he must for his little son.
“What
say you, lass? You were right. Better that I should’ve stayed dead.”
Memories,
detecting the flaw in his mail, attacked without mercy. Six years ago, he’d
spied her across the room with the devil in her eyes. She’d smiled boldly at
him and giggled with her friends. The first time they’d sat together at table,
he’d fed her like a baby bird and cut her food. All in the great dining room
watched, knowing that in the doing so he’d claimed her.
He
recalled that fateful night, when they’d hand-fasted before God. She’d begged
him to take her and he’d been too weak to resist completely. He’d promised to
come back after trading in London and marry her. How was he to know that Marcus
would send him abroad at the king’s request? His soul howled, never to be
consoled again.
He sobbed, falling upon his knees, with
his hands covering his face. Forgive me. He’d
loved with her that night as much as he’d dared. So beautiful her lovely sighs,
so bountiful her breasts. She’d opened her legs and accepted his hand until
she’d come undone. Mayhap a holier man could have resisted her offerings, but
oh no, not him. Nay. He took all but her virginity and remembered how sweet the
agony to spew his seed between her legs.
He
allowed one more moment of self-pity, planted the final rock upon her grave,
and squeezed his eyes as they burned. He apologized for his blasphemy and
prayed God to take his angel into heaven and allow him to meet her there anon.
First, he would seek revenge and see to the welfare of his son.
His
eyes popped open when the grasses rustled in front of him and the ground opened
up. A muddy black demon arose with shiny eyes and yellow teeth. Grinning, it
exited the hole with a most ordinary sword held high. Then there was naught,
but darkness.
I love Yoga, Zumba, and DIY house projects. My latest fun toy is a tile cutter. Wheee. What else can I tile?
I grew up in New England, in Vermont and have always enjoyed making up stories. When I was a kid, nothing was sacred. Crayons would fight other crayons for placement in the box. Street lamps, when they lost their bulbs, would cry. Needless to say, I still have an active imagination.
I love traveling. I'm one of those people that all other travelers hate. I lay back, when the plane takes off, and awake when the plane touches down.
I have two grown daughters, one lives in Brooklyn and one in Rome. My husband loves to edit my work, and my two cats jump on my keyboard when I'm not watching. Blame them if you see typos.
Cheers and thanks for reading.
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