Ashley York is today's guest in Medieval Monday Tour with her latest release
The Gentle Knight
BLURB:
A
medieval soldier returns home to find his lover died in childbirth just
as his own mother had. Believing he is cursed, Peter of Normandy turns
from love. When he must give escort to an Irish princess more noble than
many knights, he struggles with his decision to live a solitary life.
Can he take the chance that his love won't be a death sentence and
possibly make them stronger?
Padraig
MacNaughton's death bed decree rips his daughter, Brighit, from the
shelter of her protective clan in Ireland. Forced to take vows at a
Priory in England, she finds herself in the hands of lecherous
mercenaries with their own agendas. Dare she trust the Norman knight to
see her safely to her new life as a nun? Even when she finds in him the
fulfillment of all she's ever wanted?
Or will honor and duty eclipse their one chance for happiness?
Excerpt
Excerpt
She had
dreamed of him! All at once it came to her. He had taken her into his strong
arms and held her tight against that hard body. Every muscle pressing into her.
Then the touch of his warm lips sliding along her cheek to meet her mouth with
a hungry kiss. Brighit had actually felt his lips on hers and that same heat
swirled through her now.
She
sighed. Yes. It was a very nice dream.
The
shock of cold air accompanied with the sound of the curtain being dragged back
had her eyes flying open. There in front of her was the man from the lake...
the one in her very real dream. In the flash of a second, his eyes changed from
wide with shock to a look she’d swear spoke of pleasure.
“And
what is this?” He tipped his chin toward her, a knowing smile gracing his
pleasing face.
Brighit
covered herself. One arm across her breasts and one hand over her private
parts. She felt like Eve posing in the Garden of Eden.
The
sudden silence stole her breath away. She refused to confirm it but knew all
eyes were on her.
“Do
you mind?” Ivan’s voice cut through the awkward moment as he stood next to the
carriage. He yanked the curtain from the fine-looking man’s hand, dropping it
back in place. Brighit was again cocooned in darkness.
“Yours?”
The man’s voice was low, resonating through her core. It was as appealing as
his body.
She
took a steadying breath, trying to calm her nerves enough to cover herself. She
couldn’t have done a better job of calling attention to herself if she’d tried.
Just
how many men were out there? How many men had seen her without so much as a
stitch of clothing? She yanked the chemise down but it refused to cooperate.
The sopping material bunched at her hips. She grabbed at her gown, her hands
shaking with the rage coursing inside her.
That
now familiar sound of fist-against-flesh cut through the silence.
An
unfamiliar laugh. His laugh. A slight
tremor responded through her insides.
“Mort,”
the handsome man called to someone.
The
indistinct image of a shorter man with a gaping mouth came to mind. “Yes, my
lord?”
“I
believe this man was about to take a terrible misstep with his fist. Does it
seem to you these men have a certain…lack of knowledge?” he asked.
What arrogance!
Ivan’s
angry face came to mind. She shivered. The handsome man did not know who he was
dealing with.
“I
would say that it does.” The shorter man was closer now.
“Mayhap
some learning is required?”
“Do
you believe it’s possible, my lord? Are they trainable?”
“They
have a naked woman in a carriage while they fight out here over who will get
her.”
She
gasped, a soundless intake of air. Like a standard being dropped, the men
talked at once. Tears threatened and a few leaked down her cheek. She wiped
them away. She was only trying to clean herself not be fought over. Who was he
to say such cruel things about her?
The
morning had started out so promising. They’d had a nice time breaking their
fast with very little interaction at all. Cole’s offer of extra water had come as
a surprise but not one she wanted to miss.
Sudden
silence. Brighit held her breath.
“And
what would your name be?”
“I am
called Ivan.”
“And
this…young lady?”
This
was just getting worse and worse. His words fairly dripped derision.
“Brighit.”
She answered for herself albeit through a clenched jaw from within the
carriage.
“Ireland?
You’ve taken her from Ireland?”
Brighit
was surprised at his ability to name where she’d come from. She wished she were
still there... any place but here. This was infuriating. She could not go out
there now. They may have imagined her naked and their occasional lustful
glances assured her that they did. But to have them actually see her was beyond
embarrassment. Embarrassment only increased by the fact that at least two of
them weren’t even known to her.
“That
I have.” Ivan’s smug voice drifted to her.
Whoreson!
“Please
clothe yourself forthwith.”
He
must be facing her now for he sounded very close. A warmth tingled up her
spine. No! His voice may be low and quiet but there was nothing intimate about
this situation. She struggled with the ties up the front of her dress.
“It’s
what I’ve been trying to do.” Her irritation came through in her tone of voice.
Good!
“And I
wonder why you have not been successful thus far.” He had the nerve to sound irritated? “Just do it... and be quick
about it.”
Arrogance
oozed from the man!
“Yes,
my lord.” She clipped her words, struggling with her wimple, and hoped her
sarcasm carried through the curtain.
“Hurry
up.”
“I am
hurrying!” Her thick hair refused to cooperate but she was not about to go out
there with so much as a single strand visible.
The
man cleared his throat. Brighit would like to take a knife to it. He may be
pleasant to look at but his manners lacked even the slightest courtesy.
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