Medieval Monday with Cathy MacRae

Happy Monday! Today I'm hosting Cathy MacRae and her book, The Highlander's French Bride. Was Melisende's husband unfaithful? Was there any truth behind her sister's taunts? Read the excerpt. What do you think?

Excerpt from The Highlander’s French Bride:

Melisende’s arms fell to her sides. “Why would you go back to such a life?”

“To the parties,” Lucienne answered, “and the gowns of fabrics so fantastic they make you cry from the sheer pleasure of them. Laces so delicate they can scarcely withstand the needle. Embroidery so fine it takes four seamstresses a week just to produce one sleeve.” Her eyes closed and rapture lit her face. “The men so courteous, so eager to woo me. Dancing, stealing kisses behind the fountain. They tell me how beautiful I am, how much they desire me.” She opened her eyes, settling her gaze on Melisende’s shocked face.

“Once Raul began annulment proceedings, their interest increased a hundredfold. I will have no lack of sponsors once I return.”

“That is a shameful way to live, and you know it, Lucienne.” Tears burned in Melisende’s eyes. “How can you do this to yourself?” She swept a hand toward the bed. “To her?”

The scorn returned to Lucienne’s face, casting ugly shadows beneath her high cheeks. “You think you know what is right for me. That I should be exactly like you, drowning behind your polite façade. You believe everything is perfect in your little world with your adorable new husband who loves you?” Her eyes narrowed as she slid her gaze to Arielle. “Have you not wondered why she looks like him?”

Melisende immediately looked at the child asleep on the bed. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow like a shadow in the dimly lit room. She glanced back at her sister. “Why do you say that? I think she looks just like you.”

“She has my nose and eyes, oui. But her dark hair comes from her father.”

“Raul.”

“Non. From your oh-so-sweet husband.”

Melisende’s gaze bounced from Lucienne back to the child. Lucienne’s parting words so many years ago loosed themselves from the depths of her mind. What do you think went on whilst he slept in our house—only me and him? He would be unable to look you in the eye if you knew everything that happened.

She shook her head. Non! It is impossible to think of it! He has already assured me there was nothing between himself and Lucienne. But her heart grew cold in her breast.

Lucienne strolled to the bed and stroked her daughter’s hair. “She looks so much like me. But she has Kinnon’s hair.” Her smile set an arrow in Melisende’s heart.

Brushing aside her doubts, Melisende stepped forward. “Do not be absurd, Lucienne. Her hair is much like mine, and Raul’s is dark as well.”

Lucienne tossed her head. “You do not seem to recall Arielle was born early—or so I told Raul.”

“Lucienne, did you have relations with someone whilst we lived in Randon?” Melisende demanded. “Did you marry Raul knowing you were already enceinte?”

Lucienne sent her a mocking look. “You would love to believe that, wouldn’t you? To keep your lover innocent of the deed.”

“I do not believe you,” Melisende replied firmly, against the reservations that gnawed at her.

Lucienne’s eyebrows raised, a lofty smile taunting Melisende. “Yet you see the resemblance, non? No matter what you tell yourself, you will always know there is the possibility. We spent an entire week together, unchaperoned. You know how insatiable he is, n’ai-je pas raison?” Her eyes glittered. “No matter what you try to believe, you will always wonder if he shared his body with me first.”

Back Cover Copy for The Highlander’s French Bride:

Heir to a lairdship, Kinnon Macrory is driven to prove his worth by fighting the English on the battlefields of France. His dreams of heroic valor are destroyed by the realities of war—the atrocities visited by fellow soldiers on the very people he is sworn to protect. Three years in a French prison for a crime he did not commit leave Kinnon longing for the one thing of beauty in his war-torn life—a young woman of great kindness and wisdom named Melisende.

Melisende de la Roche struggles to stay one step ahead of soldiers who would imprison her for helping an injured Scotsman wrongly accused of treason. She finds refuge in her uncle’s shop—until a chance encounter sends her fleeing into the unknown once again, haunted by the beguiling friendship with the troubled young Scotsman she is certain she will never see again.

Determined to find the woman of his dreams, Kinnon returns to France, only to discover a trail of clues to Melisende’s whereabouts. Their reunion will open the doors to passion, but half-truths and lies from the past could destroy the one thing they both are willing to fight for—each other.

Buy Link for The Highlander’s French Bride: https://www.amzn.com/B018OHXKHK

Medieval Monday with Jenna Jaxon

Happy Medieval Monday! Today I’m hosting Jenna Jaxon. Lady Alyse is in love… with her husband and his best friend. What will happen when her husband finds out?  Here is an excerpt from Time Enough to Love. 

Excerpt from Time Enough to Love:

Abruptly, he gripped her face, pulling it up until she peered into the dangerous dark eyes of her husband. Terror surged through her at the sight of his snarling countenance.

“Why so amorous this morning, my sweet?” he growled, his eyes snapping with anger. “Were Geoffrey’s kisses not as satisfying as you remembered?”

Oh, God. Oh, God. He saw—

Thomas flung her toward the bed. She huddled at its foot in a heap, shivering, while he strode to where she lay, towering over her. Alyse cringed before him, head bowed, too frightened and ashamed for tears.

“I believe I may have misspoken earlier, madam.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “I had, in fact, gone in search of you, to invite you to an intimate breakfast with your husband. Imagine my dismay to find you engaged in one already, albeit with someone else’s husband. From the exchange I saw, I can scarce credit that you hunger still. Yet you enter our chamber apparently unsatisfied. Pray tell me, how many more husbands would you devour ere the day begins?”

His voice rose to an excruciating volume, and Alyse clamped her hands to her ears lest she be deafened.

“I have played the tender lover these past weeks. Petted and cajoled you, like some simpering green boy in an effort to remain true to the vow I made you, despite my right as your husband to demand your obedience in bed. I have been patient, kind, and true, madam, and I am repaid in treachery!”

“Nay, Thomas!” Quite suddenly, she found her tongue and raised a resolute face to her livid husband. She rose from the floor and stood facing him, breasts heaving in indignation. “Whatever you saw, whatever you think, I did not betray you with Geoffrey.”

“You were in his arms, your mouths locked together as though nothing could pull them asunder. Do you deny that?” He spat the words at her.

“Nay.” She pitched her voice low, her resentment of his accusation ebbing. “God forgive me, I kissed him and held him, and he held me. And the world ceased to exist for a little while.”

Back Cover Copy for Time Enough to Love

When Lady Alyse de Courcy is betrothed to Sir Geoffrey Longford, she has no choice but to make the best of a bad bargain. The hulking knight is far from her ideal man, and although he does possess some wit and charm, he is no match for the sinfully sensual man she secretly admires, Thomas, Earl of Braeton, her betrothe’s best friend. 

From the first, Sir Geoffrey finds himself smitten by Lady Alyse, and, despite her infatuation with his friend, vows to win her love. When Geoffrey puts his mind to wooing Alyse, he is delighted to find her succumbing to his seduction. But when cruel circumstances separate them, Geoffrey must watch helplessly as Thomas steps in to protect Alyse—and falls in love with her himself.

As the three courtiers accompany Princess Joanna to her wedding in Spain, they run headlong into the Black Plague. With her world plunged into chaos, Alyse struggles with her feelings for both the men she loves. But which love will survive?

Buy link for Time Enough to Love: Amazon

Medieval Monday with Barbara Bettis

Happy Medieval Monday! Today I’m hosting Barbara Bettis. Sir Stephen is ambushed. Thank goodness his horse has led the attackers on a merry chase. But who would betray him? Who?  Here is an excerpt from The Heart of the Phoenix. 

Excerpt from The Heart of the Phoenix:

So far: Sir Stephen has just escaped attack as he returned from a secret meeting.

This had been no random assault. The trap had sprung for him alone. But only three people knew of his rendezvous this night. His mind worked the trio of relationships. All friends—he’d thought. Which one had betrayed him? Bitter regret burned his throat, and he forced a swallow. Hadn’t he learned long ago not to trust anyone? Especially friends.

The ringing in his ears died, and he heard silence once more. Not until the rustle of a hare whispered through the brittle dry grass did he move. He settled back against a tree to gingerly unkink his leg, then brush his knuckles across his aching thigh. The thick blood had clotted. A sigh fought free of his clenched lips.

The bay was long gone, leading the others on a futile chase to the river. It would find its way back later. Stephen was on his own for now. And it was a damned long hobble back to St. Anselm. He’d best get started if he wanted to make it before dawn.

The eastern horizon glittered pearl before he espied the monastery’s roof outlined against the night sky’s fading pitch. He limped toward the narrow opening obscured by a tangle of grape vines so ancient no one recalled when they last produced. A muted grunt escaped his throat when he tugged at the warped wood. The old door creaked, then gave a few precious inches. He squeezed through sideways and hauled it shut.

The scriptorium lay ahead on the right. He’d wait for Brother Gerald there—if his double-cursed leg continued to move. He limped forward, neck and jaw locked rigid in his struggle to remain erect. Perspiration plastered shirt and aketon to his body, soaked through to the plain tunic he wore over a finely wrought chain doublet. But in his chest, a block of ice lodged where his heart belonged. During the long walk back to the monastery, he’d worked out which of his three closest comrades bore the title of traitor. Bile rose in his throat at the answer.

Inside the copy house, Stephen dropped to his knees, numb to the explosion of pain in his thigh. He prayed. He prayed he was wrong. And if his reasoning proved right, he prayed for the strength to act. Tomorrow he’d confront Brother Michael. God help the monk if harm befell even one of the men because of his treachery. Why had Michael turned, now of all times? The Phoenix Brotherhood hadn’t been this close to uncovering the treacherous Dragon for years.

Whatever happened must be quick. They must either find the leader of the murdering mercenaries before the Dragon escaped Normandy, or they must move operations to England. Stephen had promised to be home before the conclave to support John’s claim as Richard’s successor. His father may have recovered in the past months, but he needed Stephen’s help. And Stephen had vowed to assume duties at Riverton Castle or die trying.

Although that was a distinct possibility.

Back Cover Copy: The Heart of the Phoenix:

Some call him a ruthless mercenary; she calls him the knight of her heart.

Memories

Lady Evelynn’s childhood hero is home—bitter, hard, tempting as sin. And haunted by secrets. A now-grown Evie offers friendship, but Sir Stephen's cruel rejection crushes her, and she resolves to forget him. Yet when an unexpected war throws them together, she finds love isn’t so easy to dismiss. If only the king hadn’t betrothed her to another.

Can be cruel

Sir Stephen lives a double life while he seeks the treacherous outlaws who murdered his friends. Driven by revenge, he thinks his heart is closed to love. His childhood shadow, Lady Evie, unexpectedly challenges that belief. He rebuffs her, but he can’t forget her, although he knows she’s to wed the king’s favorite.

And deadly

When his drive for vengeance leads to Evie’s kidnapping, Stephen must choose between retribution and the love he’s denied too long. Surely King John will see reason. Convict the murderers; convince the king. Simple. Until a startling revelation threatens everything.

Buy Link The Heart of the Phoenix:

http://amzn.to/1RwLyL8

Medieval Monday with Mary Morgan

Happy Medieval Monday! Today I’m hosting Mary Morgan. Fiona, caught in another world and time falls in love with Alastair, the Dragon Knight. Her love is deep and his betrayal is deeper. Here is an excerpt from the Dragon Knight’s Axe.  

Excerpt from the Dragon Knight’s Axe:

Panic gripped Fiona. Something wasn’t right. Why would he leave her? She thought he cared with all the time they’d spent together. “Why in the hell did Alastair leave?” she choked out holding back the scream.

“He didn’t want to watch you die. Each day that passed took you further away. There was nothing he or any of us could do,” replied Brigid.

Her voice quivered. “Got it….umm…he abandoned me.”

Brigid sighed. “I believe he cared for you so much, he could not stand to watch you leave him.”

Fiona’s tone turned bitter as she clutched the furs. “When you care for someone, you stay with them until the very end. No matter what happens. What? Did he say good-bye, kiss me, and then just walk out of here? I hope to God our paths never cross again.”

“Do you really mean that, Fiona?” asked Aileen in a soft voice.

Closing her eyes, she didn’t want to look at either of the women. Her head throbbed, and her heart weighed heavy knowing that the only man she would ever love had walked away from her.

“Please leave,” she murmured.

When the door closed, she finally opened her eyes. She refused to let the tears fall, so she bit her lip and swallowed. Digging her hands into the furs, she kept trying to breathe. Everywhere she looked there was something that reminded her of Alastair. The plaid he had given her to stay warm, a sgian dubh for protection, and glancing around the room slowly, her eyes caught sight of something on the chair by the head of the bed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she counted to ten. Yet, when she opened them, there was no denying it any longer and sadness engulfed her. As she tried to reach for the object, her vision became clouded, the tears streaming down her face, as she was unable to hold them back.

Grasping the chess piece, she clutched it to her chest. “Why, Alastair?” Sobbing uncontrollably, she realized that he had given her the Dragon King as his parting gift to her.

And Fiona’s heart shattered completely.

Back Cover Copy from Dragon Knight’s Axe:

Alastair MacKay, a battled-scarred Dragon Knight flees to the sea to separate himself from his fae-given power connecting him to the land. But it is on land that he rescues a woman from a slave trader in Ireland. It is through Fiona he steps back inadvertently into a world filled with magic—taking on the role of protector and at the same time leading him on a journey to confront his greatest regret and fears. 

Research assistant, Fiona O’Quinlan loves translating ancient artifacts at Trinity College. When she falls asleep on an archeological dig, she awakens in another time. She soon discovers a Dragon Knight’s relic has been entrusted into her care. Determined to return the artifact to the Great Glen, Fiona is unprepared for the danger ahead—losing her heart and soul to Alastair “Beast” MacKay. 

Will their love be strong enough to soothe the beast and heal the man? Or will Death swing its axe, leaving them lost for all eternity?

Buy Links for Dragon Knight’s Axe: 

Amazon, BN, Kobo, iBooks, The Wild Rose Press

Medieval Monday with R. L. Syme

Good Medieval Monday! Our theme this month, betrayal, continues. Today I’m hosting Becca R. L. Syme. Her excerpt from The Outcast Highlander is betrayal at its best! Let us know how you feel about it.

Excerpt from The Outcast Highlander

“Bring them forward.” The fat man reached across his table and picked up a charred leg of some animal. Broc had never seen a sheriff eat in court before and hoped this was a sign of his gluttony. Men with deep desires always had a price.

The front guards stepped aside and Elizabeth walked between them, leaving Broc in their midst. With his broad sword strapped to his back, it wouldn’t have taken him long to cut through them if he’d had to. Most of them were boys, even compared to his own years, but more importantly, they were not well-fed nor well-trained. The soldiers were in use elsewhere and those who remained filled what boots they could.

They would be quick fodder if someone threatened Elizabeth.

“My lord and sheriff.” Elizabeth’s voice wavered, but she executed a perfect curtsey, staying near the floor until he bade her rise.

Until he got a good eyeful of her spilling décolletage, more like. Broc shuffled uneasily. She played a dangerous game.

“Rise, lady.” The sheriff burped and set down the leg of fowl. A wild turkey, by the look of it. Large, browned skin, dripping with fatty juices. He licked his lips like the lecherous fool he was and leaned over the table. With a smile, he followed her rise.

“I’m here to beg you for the release of my husband, Lord Andrew de Moray, Twelfth Viscount of Avoch and Strathaven, servant to the king.”

Broc held his laugh in. Servant to which king? The sheriff would assume Edward, who had taken the rule of Scotland along with England. But when Andrew said it, he meant Robert Bruce, whom he considered to be the true King of Scotland.

The sheriff only leered at Elizabeth and grinned. “I’ve heard of your coming, lady. I trust you were safe, even with your company.”

“I am safe.” Elizabeth turned to the dungeon door and cringed visibly. “I’ve heard of my husband’s capture and impending doom. I wish to bargain for his life.”

“And what did you bring to bargain?”

Elizabeth straightened and lifted her chin. This was at least not the posture of a woman who planned to prostitute herself for her husband. For that much, Broc relaxed.

“I have a suit of armor made by Spanish monks in the 11^th century for my lord’s father.”

The sheriff pulled a knife from his side pocket and began to pick his teeth. “Yes?”

“And enough gold and silver to fill three chests, but I’m sure I could get more.”

He kept picking his teeth, flicking pieces off the blade to toss at various courtiers. Each one looked disgusted at the act, but smiled in return. He had these men well-trained

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“My lord is wise, as always.” Elizabeth turned to Broccin and a hint of regret passed across her face.

She was about to offer herself.

Broc’s hand went immediately to the hilt of his sword, but before he could draw, ten long spears had come down around him. Each tip was so close to his neck, if he moved in any one direction, he would be a dead man.

“I have as my captive, the leader of the renegade group of Highland warriors that have been falsely raiding and plundering in my husband’s good name.” Elizabeth sank into another curtsey. “As a token of my good fellowship, rather than having him killed upon capture, I offer him to you in exchange for my husband’s release and the clearing of his good name.”

Broc couldn’t breathe. If there hadn’t been ten sharp edges within striking distance of his throat, he would have pushed forward and demanded she speak sense.

Beneath the spears, a boy snuck forward and twisted rope around Broc’s hands. Suddenly, the knot was so tight, he couldn’t move at all. The spears raised and one of the guards pulled his sword from its sheath, and tossed it forward.

The long weapon slid all the way through the circle of guards, almost to Elizabeth’s side, and she glanced back in her curtsey. Broc met her eyes and seethed, but her countenance did not change.

“They call themselves the Mac Ri Albannach.” Elizabeth over-pronounced the Gaelic like a true English, then returned to the refined, long tones of the court. “Sons of the Rightful King.”

Broc snorted. They did no such thing—they didn’t need to call themselves anything. But to the English, there was nothing more fearsome than an organized group of rebel warriors from the unknown mountains. He struggled against his bonds and one of the spears sliced into his shoulder.

The cut was deep and the hot, thick blood flowed down his back in double time.

“I hear tell there’s a real man behind this legendary Highlander who raids English strongholds and beheads shire magistrates.” The fat sheriff stood and walked around the table.

“I had friends at Carlisle.” The fat man spat from outside the circle of armed guards. “Friends who were killed by some band of rebels, intent on savagery and filth.”

He pulled Elizabeth to her feet. “And yet you captured this man? How do you intend to prove it was him and not your husband who led these raids?”

“Ask them.”

The sheriff called out. “Bring the raider out.”

From the corner of the room, a man in chains was pushed forward. Broc’s heart sank. The man they’d assumed dead, Tearny MacDonnogh, was almost no better off than if they had indeed killed him. His once muscular frame was now emaciated, with skin hanging from his arms. He was bare to the waist and the scars of beatings reminded Broc of just how long it had been since they had been to Berwick.

“Is this the man who led you at Carlisle?” the sheriff asked. “And is he leading the Mac Ri Albannach?”

Tearney’s greasy, matted hair swung around his face as he nodded. His eyes were half-closed and his mouth hung open, but he managed to make his affirmation known.

The sheriff cackled and threw Elizabeth to the ground. “I’ll be knighted for this for certain.”

With broad gestures, he pointed to Tearny and then the dungeon door. “Release both of them to her care, as we agreed. And take this one down to the bowels. I want the smithy to make him special chains with double-thick cast and no slack.”

He took his captain of the guard by the throat. “And by God, he had better be who she says he is, or it’s going to be your head on a silver plate instead of mine.”

“He’s the man, my lord.” The captain scratched at his throat where the fat hands had gripped him. “He bears the marks from Lord Hobble’s double-bladed Arabian weapon. I saw the scars on his arm.”

Broc swallowed. He did bear such a scar, and he had been the one to kill the perverted English lord in the battle of Carlisle, but only because the man had nearly killed Andrew and was about to disembowel him when Broc discovered and beheaded the man.

He was outnumbered, his weapon lost to him, bound, and soon to be imprisoned. Fighting back now would only mean Andrew’s certain continued imprisonment and possible death. At least if he kept quiet like a captive, he could know Andrew was free. Even if it meant he would rot in the dungeon himself.

Back Cover Copy for The Outcast Highlander

Kenesy MacLeod returns home after a failed marriage alliance in France to find her world in turmoil: her best friend married to an English sympathizer, her mother at death’s door, and her father imprisoned and thought dead. As an English lord descends to claim her father’s lands, Kenesy escapes north with her mother and brother, and runs straight into the arms of the outcast Highlander.

Driven from home and family by a crazed father, Broccin Sinclair refuses to stand aside while the English invade his beloved Scotland. But who should he champion? The freedom fighter who saved his life, the family who has forgotten him, or the woman who captured his childhood heart?

***

The Outcast Highlander begins the Highland Renegades series of medieval romance novels by USA Today bestselling author R.L. Syme (also writing as Becca Boyd). Please visit http://rlsyme.com today to get The Outcast Highlander for FREE! Happy reading!

Medieval Monday with Lane McFarland

Happy Monday, Medieval Monday! Our theme this week is betrayal. A young girl’s secret a promise to her dying mother to keep her clan intact, leads to intrigue and even betrayal. Today’s excerpt is from Lane McFarland’s Heather. Enjoy!

Excerpt from Heather

Alec’s chest constricted. How long had it been since he last saw her? Three years? Would she remember him? Would she remember his kiss?

The maid rubbed her mistress’ cheek, and Heather wiped the same spot with a cloth. When the servant nodded, Heather hurried toward him.

Did she stuff a black scarf in her sleeve? His eyes narrowed.

“Laird Campbell, welcome to MacDougall Castle.” She extended a hand. “Yer timing could not have been better.”

“Mistress MacDougall.” He bent and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Calluses covered her once soft palm. He straightened and studied her blue eyes. “Why so formal?”

“It’s been years since we last met. I’m afraid that young lass ye knew grew up.”

The gorgeous azure depths of her eyes mesmerized him. “Aye, she grew into a beautiful woman.”

A flush spread over her cheeks and she withdrew her hand. “I understand we’ve ye to thank for our lives.”

“One of yer da’s men—a young lad—is who ye should thank. He saved Laird MacDougall from certain death.”

Something akin to caution flittered across her eyes. Had he not been watching closely, he would’ve missed it.

She crossed her arms over her waist. “My da’s fortunate to have many good men defending the castle.” Her eyes widened, and she reached out. “Ye’re hurt. Forgive me, I didn’t notice.”

Alec caught her hand and rubbed her skin with the pad of his thumb. “’Tis nothing to worry over.”

“If ye’ll permit me, I’ll tend ye and yer men so ye can be on yer way. I’m sure ye’re anxious to return home.”

Was she eager to be rid of him?

He hesitated. “We are ready to be home, but we’ll repair yer keep first.”

Her back stiffened. When she smiled, it didn’t quite reach her lovely eyes. “Thank ye. If ye will excuse me, I need to see to Da.”

“I understand.”

Heather slipped past him. Her hips swayed as she stepped around a lass carrying blankets and hurried through the hall to her father.

Alec exhaled and raked a hand through his hair. He was needed out-of-doors. Rubbing the stinging cut on his chest, he marched past the injured. As he strode down the grey steps and into the bailey, his thoughts turned to the slender lad with the black scarf.

Why did he feel something was amiss? Why was the lad spirited away? And why did Heather make light of his fighting?

Back Cover Copy from Heather

Bent on overcoming the belief he’s failed his aging father, Laird Alec Campbell concentrates on proving his worth to his people. He provides for them and leads men into battle, vowing never again to disappoint his clan or lose his heart.

Bound by a promise to her dying mother, Heather MacDougall secretly leads rebel warriors in her quest to keep her clan intact and hold off those who plot to overtake her father’s land. She fights to keep her secrets safe, while resisting the lure of the handsome young laird who challenges her defenses.

They can’t deny their passionate attraction, but can their love survive their secrets?

Buy Link for Heather: Amazon

Medieval Monday with Bambi Lynn

Happy Monday, Medieval Monday! This week starts a new theme betrayal. ’s first kiss is from Bambi Lynn’s Sirona. She has the power to heal his body, but can she heal his soul? You’re going to love this excerpt. Enjoy!

Excerpt from Sirona

Ty stepped away from the Cleary lass, much to Rhain’s relief. He had been on his way to Father Baen’s apothecary when he rounded the corner and found Sirona in the man’s arms. The monster, dormant most days, rose up within him. If he had had a weapon, he would have attacked Ty on the spot. Rhain curled and uncurled his fists, ready to beat the life out of him.

“Doona fret, cousin. The lass is safe.”

“’Twas no’ her safety I was worried about.”

Ty fixed him with a look, the look of an elder who knew so much more about the world, despite his much younger mien. “Perhaps, ye should be. I caught Fergus assailing her, his intentions less than noble. If I had not come along when I did...”

Fury, violent and ferocious, welled up within him. “I’ll kill him,” he ground out through clenched teeth.”

Sirona seemed to get her bearings and spoke up. “Please, Rhain. I doona want to cause a rift betwixt you and yer brother.” She looked at Ty and placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she said.

Rhain crossed the distance and put one arm around her possessively. With a sly grin, Ty pulled his arm from beneath Sirona’s touch. “Think nothing of it, lass. But doona be wandering about the castle alone.” With a curt nod to Rhain, he left them. The clack of his boots echoing down the length of the corridor as he disappeared around a bend.

To Rhain’s surprise, Sirona snuggled against him. He held her, savoring the way she fit him perfectly. Her slender body molded to his as if she had been created just for him.

“I am sorry I was not here to protect ye,” he said over her head. “I barely made the promise err I broke it.”

She shook her head. “Doona fash yerself. He dinna hurt me. Not really. Asides, I shall be going home soon. Your da promised.”

His heart tightened. Without a doubt, the best thing for her was to be gone from this place. But already Rhain dreaded her departure like the threat of plague.

Back Cover Copy of Sirona

She has the power to heal his body, but can she heal his soul?

Sirona Cleary tries to hide her unholy healing powers from everyone around her, denying her divine heritage even as she saves those who would see her punished. When she is kidnapped by a rival clan, she is sure her execution is near. Rhain Comyn is dying from a mysterious disease, and he couldn’t be more glad of it. After the atrocities he has committed, Rhain believes he has no right to a decent life and welcomes the ailment that leaves him with unquenchable thirst and hunger, extreme fatigue, blurred vision and ultimately drives him into a deep slumber from which no healer can awaken him. Can a witch from the clan of his enemy save him?

Buy Links for Sirona

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Sirona-Gods-Highlands-Novella-Book-ebook/dp/B0113S6RA4/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sirona-Gods-Highlands-Novella-Book-ebook/dp/B0113S6RA4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1455037893&sr=8-2&keywords=bambi+lynn

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/sirona/id1076588155?mt=11

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sirona-bambi-lynn/1123276720?ean=2940152815764

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/sirona-1