by Ashley York
Praise for Ashley York
“York expertly combines her historical knowledge with romance and intrigue…”
Publisher’s Weekly Review
“If you love medieval, don’t miss Ashley York.”
USA Today Best-Selling Author Kathryn Le Veque
“A Master Story Teller”
Author Maeve Greyson
Curse of the Healer
"What a heart-pounding, fast paced and action filled romance!!"
My Book Addiction and More Reviews
"If you want to step back in history and lose yourself in a steamy romance filled with heart-stopping highs and gut-wrenching lows that will make you ignore any other responsibilities you have, then read Curse of the Healer. "
Paranormal Highlander author, Maeve Greyson
"...a highly charged story with fantastic, passionate characters. A wonderful emotion packed love story that holds the reader spellbound from the beginning to the end. It really is a masterfully written story with intricate plots and adventures."
Amazon Reviewer
"With a very good group of main and supporting characters, I can't wait to head back and read more in this series. Definitely recommended by me."
Archeolibrarian
"The author has created such marvelous characters, lush with details about their lives and what moves them. The plot includes all the elements to make an amazing story."
NetGalley Reviewer
Eyes of the Seer
“…can be read as a standalone novel, but I think it is best enjoyed after Curse of the Healer. The characters are compelling and the plot is dramatic and lively. The vibrant world of Ireland during Europe's Dark Ages vividly comes to life in this novel.”
Sam, Amazon Reviewer
“Another moving historical romance by Ashley York. I know I’ve said this before, but reading York’s books is like taking a step back in history. From the first page, I was swept away.”
N.N. Light, Top International Reviewer
“Ashley York is a masterful storyteller, creating in-depth characters that grow throughout the reading. Eyes of the Seer is storytelling at its best!”
Amazon Reviewer
The Seventh Son
“York expertly combines her historical knowledge with romance and intrigue in this alluring tale of parted lovers whose greatest desire is to be together again.”
Publisher’s Weekly
“As in the earlier books in the series (the reading of which is not at all necessary in order to enjoy this one), The Seventh Son is very readable. The author has a keen ear for dialogue and clearly knows it: her characters are wonderfully talkative, and the novel is skillfully plotted, a very adroit balancing act between historical action and romance.”
Historical Novel Society
“The Seventh Son is a splendid tale of fascinating characters, heartbreaking betrayal, honour, glory, undeniable love, and adventure, all seeped in a historical journey with well-balanced dialogue and description. The author has done her research into the time period, and brings to life the beautiful Irish landscape.”
Books and Benches
“Once again, Ashley York has written a passionate romance when the times were not about love, but about alliances and allegiances. The book is in a time and place where hardship, death and disorder abound. The love story between Tisa and Tadhg transcends time and place.”
Reviewer from NetGalley
“Ashley York has crafted a wonderful and realistic account of eleventh century life in Ireland and England during and after the Norman conquests. Her knowledge of the subject matter is obvious in regard to the story. These characters are well developed, coming to life within each paragraph, page, and chapter.”
L. Leger, Reviewer
“This is a tale of secrets, treachery and man’s cruelty and lust. Yet, in the midst of it, there are honorable men and women. Some exciting action scenes will keep you on the edge of your seat. And Tadhg and Tisa are worthy characters. It’s a well-written tale from 11th century Ireland. Medieval fans of tales set in Ireland will enjoy it.”
Historical Romance Review with Regan Walker
Daughter of the king
Ashley York
Copyright © 2018 by Ashley York
All rights reserved.
ISBN (print): 978-0-9986684-5-1
ISBN (ebook): 978-0-9986684-4-4
Publisher’s Note: The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author's imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: Cathy Helms
www.avalongraphics.org
Editing: Angela Polidoro
* * *
No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law.
For Jack,
my son,
Look into my eyes
you will see
what you mean to me
Author’s Notes
Despite their difficult struggle for survival, the ancient people of Ireland had a very structured way of life. Kingship came not from a single, royal family, but from the line of previous kings who had proven themselves in battle. This was their nobility and the fictitious heroes and heroines you meet in The Derbfine Series come from the line of the High King, árd rí, Brian Boru.
Their strong oral tradition kept their histories alive by the telling and retelling of events. That is not to say they were illiterate, just great story tellers. The Dark Ages may have cast a long shadow over most of Europe, but Ireland ensured the survival of many ancient texts by transcribing and re-writing them during this period. The actual treaty uniting my characters, however, is a work of fiction.
I’ve used authentic names and an occasional crude reference to convey the ancient and unrefined flavor of the times. A pronunciation key can be found at the back of this book along with a glossary for the levels of kingship and explanations for certain words.
Ashley
Contents
Author’s Notes
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Glossary
About the Author
Prologue
Clan Cruadhlaoch, Ireland
* * *
Can. Ye. Shut. Yer. Mouth?”
The small fire cast enough light that Darragh of Clan MacNaughton, hidden atop his mount in the trees behind the clearing, could make out the lads’ expressions. Three silent, grim-faced figures sat around the small fire while their horses grazed nearby. The two who were speaking stood beside a familiar black destrier. The angry voice belonged to Lachlann, the younger brother of Darragh’s betrothed.
“I do not see any stone, so why is the beast favoring her leg?” The speaker, a wiry red-headed lad was met with a glar
e from Lachlann.
Darragh shook his head, unseen in the darkness. After catching wind of Lachlann’s plan to sneak away from the festivities with friends, Darragh had decided to follow them. The lads had been practicing a harmless version of raiding on their neighbors, riding like the wind along rutted trails in the dark, spooking the cattle. He suspected they’d been motivated by Lachlann’s Uncle Niall, who was visiting from Alba. The big Scot told stories of his own exploits at every meal, and he’d no doubt ignited the lads’ imaginations.
Enough for them to borrow the man’s prized courser in order to ride faster.
Now that Darragh had proof, it was time to confront them. While his future father-in-law, Sean, should appreciate the intervention, the man always acted as if Darragh would never be worthy of his daughter.
One of the small lads beside the fire held a thumb to his mouth, nibbling at the nail between darting glances at the injured horse and Lachlann.
“We’re in it now,” he said, his gentle voice carrying the sting of condemnation.
Lachlann didn’t hold back his own angst when he responded, pinning the small figure with his gaze. “And what would ye have me do? I find nothing wrong with her.”
Darragh winced at the lad’s angry tone and dismounted without a sound, a mere stone’s throw away from the fire. Lachlann was not usually one to lose his patience, unlike his sister. Brighit’s temper was easily ignited, simmering like an iron pot too close to the fire. No doubt Lachlann was feeling the weight of how badly their ‘adventure’ had gone awry.
“Uncle Niall will have yer head!”
Uncle? All of Brighit’s brothers were nearly a head taller than this smaller figure…
Inching a bit closer, Darragh paused again to search their faces, each one smudged with ashes, giving their features a ghostly appearance. The nail biter dropped his hand and turned toward him, searching the darkness with narrowed eyes. Darragh held his breath, his suspicions growing.
When the nail biter stood, the long, dark hair clubbed at the back confirmed Darragh’s fear. It was indeed his betrothed, Brighit, dressed in trews and a tunic and looking like one of the younger lads. How had she hidden all her burgeoning curves?
Stepping soundlessly over to Lachlann, she spoke in a tone too hushed for Darragh to hear, but the others turned as one toward his location. He was surprised to feel a slight rush of pride that she’d been the one to hear him since she seemed to be of the same mind as her father, finding Darragh lacking in all ways.
“It took ye long enough.” Darragh spoke in a strong voice, crossing the distance to the fire in a few long strides.
The mad dash for weapons ended as quickly as it had begun when they recognized his voice.
“What are ye about? Have ye gone and damaged yer Uncle Niall’s horse?” he asked, his sardonic tone raising a few eyebrows.
Lachlann blew out a breath, stepped away from the horse, and turned his pained expression on Darragh. “She’s got nothing wrong with her foot but continues to favor it.”
Darragh frowned at the dark-haired man, watching from the corner of his eye as Brighit sidled her way to the back of the group and the lads drew together to shield her from him. Lachlann ran his hand down the horse’s leg, squeezing above the ankle for it to lift its hoof.
“Clean.” The lad made the pronouncement with about as much irritation as Darragh had ever heard him display. That Lachlann recognized the extent of the trouble he could be in made Darragh feel some sympathy for him but not much.
Stepping closer, Darragh slid his hand along the beast’s side, patting its rump to calm any fears. His way with animals was no secret. “Easy now.”
The answering whinny made him smile. He brushed a hand over the beast’s hoof. “Are ye familiar with these iron shoes?”
Lachlann’s shrug was his only answer.
“She’s only recently been shod. It looks as though they may have trimmed this one a bit too much.” Darragh adjusted his hold so Lachlann could also see and then released the sore leg.
Brushing the dirt from his hands before speaking again, Darragh allowed his gaze to take in each of the lads around him, noting the way they kept Brighit hidden. Her head popped up from between their shoulders. Even with ash smudged across her fair features, she was still a beauty. A very feminine lad indeed.
“I’m thinking Niall did not expect his prized animal to be taken on such a ride as ye’ve given her this night. Her lameness will disappear once she’s rested, but I suggest ye walk her back.”
“Walk her back?” Lachlann all but whined and the rest of the lads quickly joined in, voicing their own objections to dragging out the return journey.
Darragh raised his hands, ceasing the complaints. “Only a suggestion, but if ye force her to bear the weight of a rider on that sore hoof, she may take longer to recover. I’m not sure how yer uncle will feel about trusting ye again.”
The grumbling started right back up as the lads tossed ideas back and forth. Darragh remained calm, keeping his face relaxed and his bride-to-be within sight. She remained silent, again nibbling at her thumbnail.
“Or—” the lads’ discussion ceased and Darragh continued. “—ye could allow me to take my betrothed upon my own horse while ye lead the lame horse home.”
The men separated like Moses parting the Red Sea, all eyes on Brighit’s shocked expression.
“Ye’ve been caught,” Lachlann said.
Brighit finally closed her gaping mouth to give her brother a fierce scowl. She then turned that same expression on Darragh, closing the distance until she stood directly in front of him. Her small body heaved with indignation.
“Are ye not the sneaky one? Pretending not to see me.”
“Pretending not to see ye?” Darragh forced an even tone. He found her pursed lips and narrowed eyes intriguing, but he wasn’t ready for her to know that. She was unlike any other lass, and this close proximity to her and her family was providing quite a bit of insight into her true nature. That she would go off playing lad, however, had been no more than a sneaking suspicion until this night. “And when was this?”
“This whole time.” she huffed.
With dramatic flair, he glanced at Lachlann and his friends with wide, innocent eyes, arms open in supplication. “Did I ever say that my betrothed was certainly not here?”
The others averted their eyes, their quiet chuckles receiving the same unrepentant glare from Brighit.
“Or that the daughter of one of the most powerful ri túath would certainly not be dressing up as a lad to race across the countryside in the dark of night.” His easy tone ended in a combative declaration.
“Ye did not call me out!”
“And why would I be doing that?” Darragh stood tall and crossed his arms, setting his lips to curl before he spoke again in a much quieter tone. “These lads certainly knew ye were here. As did I. There was no pretending involved.”
Shifting uneasily, Brighit glanced around, her proud demeanor slipping away with her obvious distress. There was no help for it. Her father had trained her alongside her brothers since they were young, but it was time to set aside such foolishness.
Darragh glanced about at the lads. Men, really, about the same age as he was. Why wasn’t someone curbing her behavior? Protecting her? They were doing the opposite by aiding her in the deception.
Surely they realized they were playing with fire to have the only daughter of their king ride with them, dressed as a warrior. What if she were hurt? What if they were attacked?
Turning his ire on them, Darragh said, “Lachlann, what were ye—”
“I told her not to come. She doesn’t listen.”
“Aye, she doesn’t listen,” Darragh agreed.
Brighit glowered.
Glancing over her attire, he continued, “But are those not yer trews? I recognize the stain on the arse.” He pointed, and all eyes were suddenly on her derrière. Darragh stepped forward to block the view, irritated with himself at the sudden u
rge to strangle them one by one for turning their eyes to her. Heaving a heavy sigh, he swung an arm under her knees and grasped her shoulders to pick her up in one fell swoop.
“Put me down, ye oaf!” Brighit punched at his chest—surprisingly strong punches—and came damn close to heaving herself right out of his arms.
He tossed her astride his own mount, leaping up behind her before she could escape. With a strong arm wrapped around her waist, he yanked the reins with his free hand.
“Ye can continue to argue amongst yerselves, but I will see the daughter of the king safely returned myself.”
The only objection was the unexpected elbow to his side. He oomphed and tightened his hold on her.
“Behave, or I’ll take ye over my knee.” He spoke under his breath, loud enough only for her to hear, and urged the horse into a trot, away from the others and the wider path they would have to use.
“Ye and whose clan?”
He couldn’t be certain he’d heard her correctly. Once they were far enough for privacy, Darragh reined in his horse.
