Every Monday look for a new medieval author on this blog exchange and check this and their blogs weekly for more wonderful medieval novels:
Ashley York – Jenna Jaxon – Laura Strickland – Cathy McRae – Mary Morgan –Andrea Cooper – Jill Hughey – Sarah Woodbury – Laurel O’Donnell – Vijaya Schartz
Welcome to Vijayah Schartz, author of The Curse of the Lost Isle series, beginning with book one, Princess of Bretagne!
THE CURSE OF THE LOST ISLE series:
From history shrouded in myths, emerges a family of immortal Celtic Ladies, who roam the medieval world in search of salvation from a curse… but if the Church ever suspects what they really are, they will be hunted, tortured, and burned at the stake.
PRINCESS OF BRETAGNE
Curse of the Lost Isle – Book One
806 AD – Alba (Ancient Scotland)
As the Vikings raid the coast of Alba, Pressine of Bretagne sets out to seduce King Elinas of Dumfries, chosen by the Goddess to unite the tribes against the foreign invader. Elinas, still mourning his departed queen, has no intention to remarry. Head strong and independent, Pressine does not expect to fall for the very attractive, wise and noble ruler… Furthermore, her Pagan nature clashes with the religious fanaticism of the king’s Christian heir, who suspects her unholy ancestry and will stop at nothing to get rid of her.
Without waiting for an invitation, Elinas stormed into the bedchamber.
Pressine shuddered at the loathing in his dark brown eyes.
“Whatever made you think you could violate the apartments of my beloved queen?” Stopping short in the middle of the room, Elinas glanced around, eyes wide with disbelief.
Pressine struggled to sound casual. “Surely your gracious queen would have wanted these rooms light, warm and clean, even alive with laughter, rather than dark, sealed, and stinking of decay.”
The king’s jaw tightened under the short black beard as he towered over her. His hands balled into fists at his sides. “I alone decide in my castle.” The low voice turned to a raucous whisper, more threatening than the shouts of any battlefield. “I shall not tolerate defiance of any kind under my roof. Restore these rooms to their previous state and leave.”
Barely able to slow her heartbeat, Pressine feigned distraction, dusting her blue riding dress. “It simply cannot be done.”
“You dare challenge me?” His surprise would have been comical, if not for the menacing tone.
“The old linens were burned,” Pressine said with a calm she did not feel, as if lecturing a child. She rose to fetch the bundle wrapped in blue silk and handed it to him.
Elinas looked at it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Her comb, mirror, distaff, spindle, and other keepsakes.” Pressine waved her hand, encompassing the room. “The apartments themselves will never look the way they did before.” She had made certain of that.
The king’s eyes, velvety brown and soft this morning at the spring, now burned with the fiery amber of a wild cat’s glare. Elinas looked ready to pounce. He snatched the bundle from her arm. “Out!”
Pressine showed none of the apprehension gripping her. The king’s heart, beneath the leather gear, had more mettle than she anticipated.
“Remember that I have your sword.” She paused, observing the sobering effect of her words. “Only this morning, you gave it to me, swearing you would honor your oath of keeping me safe in your halls. Does a king’s word count for so little in Strathclyde?”
“I curse the ill fortune that made me hear you sing, lady.” Eyes tightly shut, Elinas tensed, fists at his side, obviously struggling for emotional control. “I should have known that a princess who refuses to bow to the will of men can only bring strife.”
Encouraged by the spark of reason returning to the distraught Elinas, Pressine hoped he could now face his grief. “I am sorry if I offended you. I meant no disrespect.”
“I have enough Vikings, Angles, Picts and Scots to give me trouble. The gods know I do not want feuds in my home.” Stillness made his stare frightening.
Pressine refused to be intimidated. “Will you honor your word and protect me, then?”
“I should throw you to the wolves!” His voice boomed.
“Wolves?” Pressine repressed a chuckle. She loved wolves. “What would your people think of a king who throws a defenseless princess to the wolves?”
“Defenseless?” The king’s face reddened.
“Everyone in the castle expects to see me at your side at the Beltane feast. If I do not attend, there will be questions. The rules of hospitality state that…”
“Let them ask,” Elinas snapped. “The rules of hospitality do not apply to princesses who misbehave!”
Romance with a Kick