If you post a comment today, you’ll be in the running
for a free download of this anthology!
I’ll be away from my computer again today. There’s always an adventure in this house and yesterday’s involved the wood-burning furnace. I was adding a couple of logs to the fire, and bent to lift one of them, when a burst of flame, like something out of the movie Backdraft, flared out. I didn’t have time to move back, and dummy me, couldn’t even blink because it was beautiful. I felt and heard little sizzling crisps tumble onto my shoulders, saw my glasses fog. I took a step back and swiped my hair and face as quick as I could and when my hands came away from my hair, I was clutching tons of crispy bits. Yup, I burned my hair, singed my eyebrows and my eyelashes. I have very strange little damaged curls at the ends of most of my hair in the front so I am going to beg my hair dresser to fit me in. He might have to cut my hair very, very short. Bright side, at least that quick burst of flame didn’t burn my skin.
I’m sure I’ll have plenty to talk about after a visit with him. He’s my age, has a long gray ponytail and wears shorts no matter the weather. Love Nick to death, but he’s going to be laughing his ass off at me.
Anyway, this book was released in March 2007 and is part of the Seasons of Seduction anthology. The winner will get a download of the entire anthology. Good luck!
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Newlywed Lady Margaret du Bary must find a way out of the marriage her king decreed. Lord Roland is far beneath the ideal knight she’s dreamed of — and she won’t have him! But how can she distract the brute from consummating their marriage until she can steal away from the keep and return to the convent that ejected her?
Lord Roland is very pleased with his mousy bride. Besides the lands and fine castle she brings, she’s pleasing to the eye and has a suitably demure demeanor. The only thorn in the ointment is he has no experience tupping a gentlewoman. Bedding his modest bride will prove a true test of this knight’s steel.
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“Another flagon of ale!” The new lord of Beckwith Keep slammed his empty cup on the wooden table. A serving wench tripped in her haste to reach him, spilling more ale onto the table than into his hammered silver chalice. He ignored her dismay and planted his elbow in the puddle, tilting back his head to take a long draw of warm ale.
“Perhaps you should curb your thirst.”
Lord Roland Du Bary cast a baleful eye at his friend, Dougal Fitzhugh. “Why ever for?”
“The wedding night is still to come. Are you not afraid your ardor will flag?”
Roland licked the foam from the hairs that curved over his upper lip. “A little ale has never impeded me in bedsport. Not once have I failed to rouse my staff when the occasion called.” He cast a glance at his bride. The shy little miss had taken a seat further down the table. Her hair, neither blonde nor brown but all the pleasing shades of a pheasant’s tail feathers, hung in a long curtain to her hips. “Besides, my wife inspires me sufficiently.”
“Aye, you are a lucky man. You’ve a fine keep and lands—and a comely wife.”
His gaze still on his young bride, Roland replied, “She seems a pleasant mouse. Although methinks she tends to overimbibe. Her cheeks are quite flushed already.”
“Why say you she is a mouse?”
“She’s so timid, she has not once looked me in the eye.”
“Perhaps she is put off by your ill looks,” Dougal said with a laugh.
Disgruntled, Roland straightened his shoulders. “My looks haven’t a thing to do with it. My sword arm and my fame as a warrior are all she’s concerned with.”
“You only met the girl today. How do you know this?”
“Why, you heard her. When she greeted us at the steps of this keep, all she could say was, ‘You are Sir Roland Du Bary? The king’s knight?’ And she looked me up and down as though she could scarce believe her good fortune.”
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