by Mia Pride
Nobody ever asked why he killed his own father. Elim had been a madman and everyone knew it. He destroyed his land and his people, and he ruled through fear. Jeoffrey had followed his schemes for years out of familial duty and loyalty, but when his father asked him to abduct the beautiful daughter of their enemy, Jeoffrey’s life had gone down a dark and twisted path that had led him here, across the sea, away from all he had known before.
Aye, he killed his father in order to save the life of the woman he abducted, the woman he had grown to love…the woman who was married and in love with her own husband. Treasa. Saying her name, even in the safety of his own mind, caused Jeoffrey to wince at the reminder of all he would never have.
Alastar slapped his back again, jolting him out of his brooding. “Jeoffrey. You are a war hero, mate! All the bards in Ériu have been singing your praise, telling of the man who stood up to Elim the Tyrannical and slew him, saving the woman he loved and all Ériu in the process! You should be using those stories to your benefit, mate. You should have a line of lassies waiting to climb into your bed, not be sitting in this gathering hall getting pissed all alone. That lass Ealasaid would have you any way you wished to take her. She is a bonny lass.” Aye, rumors from his homeland had spread far and wide, proclaiming Jeoffrey a hero, but nothing about his life felt heroic. While Treasa was across the sea and happy with her husband Eoin again, he was here in Alba with nobody except his ridiculous best mate.
And if the people truly knew the details of that story, how the woman he loved was actually his captive, how he had stormed into her home in the middle of the night, knocked her husband out with the hilt of his sword and forced her to marry him instead…nobody would call him a hero then. Of course, he had been forced to comply with these orders by his father, but he had done those things nonetheless. Even fleeing across the sea to Alba could not erase his shame. Nay, he deserved this punishment, to be alone in a foreign land. First, he had lost his intended bride, Clarice, when she ran off with his cousin four years previously, and now Treasa. Mayhap he was meant to live a solitary life.
Treasa’s image in his mind started to change, her blonde curls turning into dark brown waves and her hazel eyes suddenly a deep blue, the color of the sea on a bright summer day. Clarice. By the gods! Why was her image suddenly coming back to haunt him as well? Could he not escape the ghosts of his past?
Jeoffrey needed to get out of this stifling gathering hall. The smoke was thick and suddenly he felt as if he was suffocating. It had nothing to do with thoughts of Clarice and Treasa dancing around in his mind, mocking him for his many failures.
“Enough, Alastar!” Jeoffrey grumbled as he pushed the wooden bench back and stood up abruptly. “I have all I need. I have my farm. You know all I ever wanted was a farm. I never wanted to be my father’s heir or leader of any battles! A lifetime spent training as a warrior, being ordered to slaughter men, kidnap innocent lassies, do unspeakable things for the man who sired me…nay I will not call him father. He was a beast. I will not be like him. I am glad to be rid of Ériu and all the poisonous memories I left behind!”
A commotion from the front of the gathering hall caught his attention. He spun on his heels to follow the gasps and shouts of the villagers when their peaceful evening was interrupted by the shrill cry of a woman storming through the doors as if her life depended on it, the frigid winter cold following in her wake.
Her brown hair was matted in a nest of knots, wrapped around her face from the wind outside. She wore a red cloak that was also twisted around her body and her leather boots were caked with snow. She looked like a wee lass. She probably wouldn’t reach past the middle of his chest. There was a green wool blanket in her arms and she clung to it with everything she had, like the most valuable thing in her world resided within its warmth. When the bundle moved and a small leg peaked out from beneath, Jeoffrey realized it was indeed the most precious thing to this woman. She carried a wee child.
Gripping the child even tighter with one arm, she used her free hand to swipe her disheveled hair away from her face. Jeoffrey’s heart sank to his toes. His blood ran cold and his stomach churned. Those same ocean blue eyes that had been haunting him just a moment ago…and more often than he cared to admit over the last four years, searched the crowd in a panic as she stepped forward and grabbed onto the first man she saw. “You must help me! Please!”
Alastar shot up out of his chair and laughed. He always laughed at the most inappropriate times. “I think the gods are trying to tell you something, mate.”
The hall had gone silent and Alastar’s lone voice seemed to boom and linger in the still air. Her eyes shot straight to them and she stilled when her gaze landed on Jeoffrey. Instinctively, she clutched her child tighter to her body and gasped, “Jeoffrey?”
Of all the women in all the clans in all of Alba…why did his former intended bride, the one who had ripped his heart out of his chest and run off with his cousin, literally come storming into his life again?
“Clarice.”
About the Author
Mia is a full-time wife and mother of two rowdy boys, residing in the SF Bay Area. As a child, she often wrote stories about fantastic places or magical things, always preferring to live in a world where the line between reality and fantasy didn’t exist.
In High school she entered writing contests and had some stories published in small newspapers or school magazines. As life continued, so did her love of writing. So one day, she decided to end her cake decorating business, pull out her laptop and fulfill her dream of writing and publishing novels. And she did.
When Mia isn’t writing books or chasing her sweaty children around a park, she loves to drink coffee by the gallon, get lost in a good book, hike with her family and drink really big margaritas with her friends! Her happy place is the Renaissance Faire, where you can find her at the joust, rooting for the shirtless highlander in a kilt.
Connect with Mia!
FB
Twitter
Newsletter
Instagram
Book Bub
Amazon
Pinterest
Website
Blog
[email protected]
Acknowledgements
As always, I have so many people to thank for the creation of my story!
I need to thank my husband for always bearing with me when I have deadlines to meet and don’t do much more than write on some days! He only ever encourages me to continue!
To my children: Even though I will never allow them to read my stories, everything I do, is for love of them.
To my Editor Vicki McGough and my proofreader Bethannee Witczak, your time, attention, and insight into my stories LITERALLY makes this possible and I appreciate your efforts tremendously!
To Kathryn Le Veque, Thanks for allowing me to be a part of this wonderful world with you! It has been a grand adventure!
To my mom, who literally shares every post on social media and never stops raving about me, even though I am certain she is blinded by love. Her undying support means more than words can say!
And NEVER LAST or LEAST… my READERS! I am NOTHING but a fool wasting away behind a laptop if not for you! Your messages of encouragement keep me doing this every single day and I cannot express my appreciation more. I have the best readers in the world! XOXOXO
