Will he stand by her through the inquisition or will they both hang for her secrets?
Genre: Medieval Romance
Publication Date: May 10, 2015
Year of our Lord, 1276.
In the hours just before dawn, blasphemous curses echo throughout the stone manor. A knife clatters to the floor, and a feisty young widow is bound, blindfolded, and led to the marriage altar. The king couldn’t possibly have sanctioned this farce of a marriage, could he? After all, she alone transformed a few mud huts and starving serfs into a flourishing town, never once hesitating to pay generous taxes to his royal kingdom. Abandon her beloved people to be ruled by her new husband, an ignorant Templar knight? Never! the Lady Ann vows.
A murderous witch for a wife? The Beast of Thornhill finds himself in the middle of either a cruel jest or an evil conspiracy. After returning from the Holy wars, he accepts endowment of a small parcel of land in return for saving King Edward’s life. But the reward comes with a warning regarding the estate’s mistress. Despite his insatiable attraction to the black-haired beauty, he allows her time to warm to him while observing her strange, forward-thinking ways. But when all is on the line, will he stand by her through the inquisition or will they both hang for her secrets?
One thick
lock of bronze hair escaped the mass tied to her head. The length twisted past
a full breast, beyond her navel, and just above a thatch of curly hair. There,
he’d almost known her. Would she take him
back? She’d haunted every one of his dreams, followed him like a wraith
from London, to France, to Italy, the Holy Lands, and by God, back again. She
would marry him. He’d insist. He cleared his throat and stepped out into the
open on the lowest tier of bricks.
Eyes wide,
her mouth dropped open, and she screeched. One arm covered both breasts and the
other hand went low. “Thomas? Is that you? Haunt me not. Be gone. Damn you.”
He put
melody to one of the hundreds of poems he’d composed as his lower appendage
swelled for her. “Merry, Merry. So very ever fair-ye.”
“Good
heavenly Father above. Now it sings?” She picked up a scrubbing brush lying
beside a pile of her clothing. Fire from the hearth reflected red into her
stunned eyes. Water sloshed over the edge of the highest pools onto the surface
of the one below it. The lower edge of the middle bath did the same in perfect
counterpoint.
He took a
deep breath, jumped up three stairs, and opened his arms wide. “Nay a ghost,
love. I’ve come back for you.”
A small nugget
of soap whizzed by and would’ve grazed a cheek had he not stepped aside. She
dropped to her knees with what he thought was a prayer, jostled in her
belongings, and rose with the vicious edge of a dagger. She hissed and jabbed
in his direction. “Nay. Be gone ghost. You can’t be Thomas. They said you were
dead.”
“They? Who are they, dearest? There’s only I, your love. I’ve returned.” Three
steps more brought him within an arm’s length. He reached forward with palms
up.
With her un-daggered hand, she finger-poked
him and her gray eyes went wider still. She paled when she hit solid mail under
his tunic and for a moment their eyes locked like years ago and he was all but
undone.
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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