WARRIORS
Tales of Honor, Courage, and Loyalty…
Karen Michelle Nutt
Warriors
Presented by Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery
Copyright © 2013 Karen Michelle Nutt
Art Cover Copyright © 2013 Karen Michelle Nutt
Design Consultation by Laura Shinn
Licensing Notes
All rights reserved under U.S. and International copyright law. This ebook is licensed only for the private use of the purchaser. May not be copied, scanned, digitally reproduced, or printed for re-sale, may not be uploaded on shareware or free sites, or used in any other manner without the express written permission of the author and/or publisher. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Warriors is a work of fiction.
Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author except for the inclusion of actual historical facts. Similarities of characters or names used within to any person – past, present, or future – are coincidental except where actual historical characters are purposely interwoven.
Love’s Eternal Embrace
(Medieval Vampire Tale)
One of the Knights of Templar, Liam Cantwell knew his destiny lay elsewhere, but he never thought it would be in the arms of of the legendary Dearg-du. He wants her, but her Love's Eternal Embrace could prove his demise.
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Heart of a Warrior
(Goddess Tale/Fantasy)
Trey Brennan knew he was dying, but he awakes in another realm where the goddess Scáthach wants to teach him to be a warrior. He is sure he’s dreaming, but what did he have to lose? He would train and he would fight. Perhaps his destiny on the Isle of Skye would also change his path in his world.
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The Devil’s Wolf
(Historical Romance)
Lady Catrione Johnstone knows of the Devil’s Wolf and his ruthless exploits. However, the myth is nothing like the man. In his arms, she forgets he is her enemy. Will the magic of love bring peace to the feuding clans or will it only inflame the hostilities?
Praise for Love’s Eternal Embrace
“Nutt pens a haunting romance filled with yearning and heartbreak in "Love's Eternal Embrace."
~Stephanie Burkhart, author of the Budapest Moon Series and Victorian Scoundrel~
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“I love the dark, gothic tone that complements the overall story so well. There is a mystical feel to the sensual encounters between Liam and Glamis that is poetic and inspiring.”
~Laurie, Reviewer, Coffee Time Romance and More~
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Praises for Heart of a Warrior
“Knowing people who have fought the tumultuous battle of cancer the premise of Heart of a Warrior is fantastic, and I wish it were true. I absolutely love the idea that if you were to prepare and fight in a dream world it might have impact on reality. I found Heart of a Warrior well written, a great fast read, and a wonderful concept.” ~Tanya, Joyfully Reviewed~
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“I really enjoyed this short novella. I found the plot, characters and unique twist of the story to be very entertaining and captivating. I think that this book would have the potential to be expanded and wish that there were more to it. Despite the quantity of the words, the quality of the novella was superb. I would have no problem recommending this book to someone who wants a short erotic and romantic adventure to escape to for a bedtime read.” ~Bitten by Books~
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Praises for The Devil’s Wolf
“I got swept away by this story. Michelle Nutt went with a Scottish legendary feud between two families in The Devil's Wolf. From the capable pen of Michelle Nutt, The Devil's Wolf is yet another skillfully drawn picture of romantic times gone by.” ~Reviewer~
Love’s Eternal Embrace
Chapter One
October could be cold and wet in Ireland, but the weather held out with little or no rain as Sir William Cantwell, Liam to his friends and family, traveled North with his squire, Cormac. After seven years, he fulfilled his obligation to the Knights Templar, who had relieved his family’s estates from financial burden in exchange for his services. A sacrifice he gladly undertook to save the family from financial ruin. The crusades were bloody and long, and for the most part disheartening. He went into temporary service as a boy and came back a man haunted by the horrors he’d witnessed.
He’d written to his family of his return, but he found he was not ready to face the duties required of him. In truth, he had no wish to be lord when his father passed the duties over to him. His father thrived on being in control. He was in the front lines when petty clan wars broke out. He could shout commands and men jumped to follow him. Liam could be just as forceful. He proved it time and time again during his service, but in his heart, he knew his destiny lay elsewhere.
The lush wooded area born of legends was a welcomed reminder of his youth and he cherished the uneventful ride. The church, along with his Norman father, frowned upon the old stories born of druids and the Sidhe. His mother’s family may have taken on the Christian beliefs, but the old ways were kept close to her heart and she shared them with her sons.
The sun sat low in the horizon, the sky darkening and looking like a sodden wool blanket. Rain would drench the land tonight. He glanced at Cormac, who barely held onto the reins, his lids heavy with wanted sleep. If he did not find shelter soon, he would be picking up his squire from the ground.
He thought they would rest beneath the trees, but as the mist cleared the path had led them to the Village of Dunnloch. The Tavern Inn, which stood in the center of the village, near the town square, beckoned to his tired bones. The wind blew cold and he was thankful for the thick fur mantle he donned over his shoulders in replacement of the templar’s thinner garb. He was no longer obligated to dress the part of one of Order and could return to his native attire. “We shall stay here for the night, Cormac.” The lad straightened in his seat and blinked at him. “Once you have secured the horses, come to the inn and I shall have food and drink waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Sir Cantwell.” His squire was a bony lad, lanky and long limbed, but he proved stronger than he appeared and a good companion.
Liam stepped down from his trusted mount. His hand slid across the horse’s sleek black coat with affection. “If at all possible, I shall return with a sweet for you, Loucetios.” His horse nuzzled against him as if understanding his words.
Liam honored the codes of the Knights Templar and took pride in doing so, but his rebellious heart could not be tamed completely. The men he rode with were not Irish and they did not know the Gaelic word. A sin for certain, but he took great pleasure in naming his mount after the god of thunder.
Upon entering the tavern all eyes turned toward him, the room falling silent as a tomb. He was a tall man, broad shouldered from his years of wielding a sword, but he never thought his appearance would frighten anyone. On his travels home, the wenches in the pubs claimed he had a comely face and they liked his thick dark strands and moss colored eyes. Then again, what did he know about women? He never spoke to one for the seven years of his service. It was forbidden. His experiences with the fairer sex were limited to his mother and a young girl he once kissed before he left home. The women who wanted his coin could not be a reliable source. It was why he remained polite in the pubs, but did not follow them upstairs to a room. They thought him odd, but he waited this long to bed a woman, he would choose one he wanted for a wife.
His gaze caught a young lad eyeing his sword with reservation. Perhaps it was his weapon that unnerved them and not his intimidating stance.
“I have traveled far and wish only to have something to eat and drink for myself and my squire.” He kept his voice even toned, hoping he sounded friendly. “Once the lad has taken care of the horses, he will join me.”
The man standing behind the wooden bar forced a smile and nodded his head. His hair had grayed, but he stood tall. Age had not robbed him of his strength. “We have lamb stew and ale aplenty.”
“Sounds splendid.” He removed his mantle as he took the empty table near the back of the room where his back would be to the wall and he could see the coming and going of the men. They were Gaelic farmers by the looks of them. Most had dark hair, darker than his, and their skin was weathered from the sun and wind.
The innkeeper brought him a tankard of ale.
“Your name?” Liam asked, meeting the man’s gaze.
The man seemed nervous and on edge, but he could not fault him. He was a stranger to this region of the island. “Jarvis Hearne, kind Sir.”
Liam lifted the tankard to his lips, taking a generous swig. The ale went down smooth with its sweet full bodied and fruity taste. He leveled his gaze on the innkeeper. “Thank you, Jarvis.”
The man nodded his head and scurried away only to return a few moments later with two generous plates of stew. There was even bread for dipping. He ate in silence and the room began to return to normal with low murmurs of conversation. They barely glanced at Cormac who strode in like a shivering waif.
He waved to the boy and he hurried over to him.
“Sit, and eat. The food is good and hot.”
Cormac shoveled his food in his mouth like it would be his last meal.
“Slow down.” Liam chuckled. “I promise you no one will steal your plate.”
Cormac wiped his face with the back of his hand and grinned. With much effort, the boy managed to take smaller bites.
Liam had planned to stay the night here, but with the odd welcome, he thought it wise to continue on his journey.
Just as he was finishing the last of his ale, a man placed another tankard before him. His face was weathered and his beard straggly. “’Tis not safe to be wandering so close to the forbidden forest.” He was not stating the name of the forest in question, but warning him in some way to stay clear of it.
Liam’s lips curved as he stared at the old man over the rim of his tankard. “And why is that, may I ask?”
“The nights belong to her of course, especially this time of the year when the otherworld is stronger. Not that it matters to her. Her strength is like ten men.”
He assumed the old man spoke of the approaching Samhain as the time of year in question. Christianity may be practiced, but the people here still held onto the pagan superstitions. “Her? You speak of a woman then?” His gaze traveled over the men in the pub, large men who may not know how to swing a sword, but they were not idle men. Strong and daring, but yet, they sat there crossing themselves at the mention of the forest and who dwelled in it.
Cormac paused in his eating, his dark eyes looking too large for his face as he stared wide-eyed at the old man.
The old man glanced over his shoulder as if asking the other patrons’ permission to continue. No one came forward to stop him and his gaze returned to Liam. “She is a beautiful lass with dark tresses and a face of an angel, but you must not be fooled. She is one of the undead, a creature who feeds off the blood of men.”
“Surely, ye jest.” Liam chuckled, but realized no one shared in his mirth. They truly believed some lass lived in the forest devouring men’s blood. He was only four and twenty, but he’d heard of such talk about these creatures on his quests. However, he’d brushed the tales off as nothing more than fanciful stories. He had no wish to offend and would indulge the old man, letting him tell the tale about the fallen angel who drank men’s blood.
The man waved to Jarvis, asking him to keep their tankards full.
By the time Liam downed more than a few tankards of ale, he became boastful about his bravery to fight off evil.
“Are you not afraid to die?” One man braved to ask.
“I served with the Knights Templar. If I should die during a battle, my passage to heaven is secured.” His plans to go home seemed a distance memory as his declaration to destroy the fiend took precedence.
He withdrew his sword and held it high above his head. “No fiend shall terrorize Dunnloch this day forward.” Cheers and stomping of feet greeted his pledge. He glanced at Cormac who looked unsure, but his squire raised his tankard to him as the men ushered him to the door.
Chapter Two
“A superstitious tale is all this is.” Or so Liam believed until he stood at the entrance of the forest with only a lantern for light. The cool night had sobered him enough to realize what a fool he was for venturing out in the dead of night to slay an imaginary fiend. He slowed Loucetios to a stop. With a snort, his mount’s nostrils flared as if he picked up an unpleasant scent. He shook his mane, pinning his ears to the sides of his head.
Liam held his lantern high, hoping to shed some light within the dark void. “Go, Loucetios,” he encouraged his mount to move forward with a swift kick of his heels, but Loucetios refused to budge.
The oak and birch trees stood before them like an ominous wall of limbs, swaying in the wind as if to lean down and capture them within their grasps. He murmured a curse, refusing to be intimidated by trees. He jabbed his heals into Loucetios’ flank again. “Go now, trusty companion, and I will have an apple brought to you on a daily basis for a full moon cycle.”
Loucetios snorted and stomped his foot on the ground as if to convey his thoughts on the matter of stupidity, but in the end he obeyed and trotted forward.
Instead of the trees supplying shelter from the wind, it blew cold around them like icy fingers trying to grab hold. The trees loomed toward them the farther they ventured forth, becoming thicker and taller as if they stood centuries in the earth and didn’t appreciate the intrusion. Perhaps he should turn around. He pulled back on Loucetios’ reins and turned in his seat. The path they’d taken looked nonexistent with a wall of tree trunks lined like a fortified wall of defense.
He turned around again and leaned forward, patting the side of Loucetios’ neck. “It’s all right, my friend. We’ll find our way out.” Loucetios stomped his right front hoof and lifted his head with a whinny, but Liam ignored his protests and pushed him forward.
The wind wailed like a banshee and was cold like frost and as pesky as a fly as it whipped his long strands in his eyes.
Gooooooo back…. A ghostly whisper tickled his ear.
He pulled on the reins again. “Who goes there?”
Turn baaaa….ck.
The hairs on his arms stood up on end. “’Tis a ghost warning us, Loucetios.”
Loucetios nickered, nodding his head in agreement as if to say, “Finally, you have come to your senses.”
Gooooo. Goooooo, the unearthly voice’s urgent pleas grew stronger.
At this point, he didn’t care if the whole village thought him a coward, he would no longer stay in the forest. The spirits wished him gone, and so, he would honor their request.
He whirled Loucetios around, only to have his mount thrash in fright, rising up on his hind legs and unseating him. He fell hard, hitting his head on a rock or something just as unyielding. Loucetios galloped away, leaving him behind in the dark, now that the candle in the lantern had blown out. Never had his mount acted in such a manner. He’d fought wars, slashing his sword at the enemy and never had Loucetios run away in fright. Yet here he remained abandoned within the haunted forest.
He sat up and regretted the movement as his eyesight wavered in and out. His vision caught movement, light, and a blur of color. His hand went for his sword, withdrawing it. The sharp scrape of metal added to the wails of the wind.
Wanting to meet his foe on his feet, he moved too quickly, causing the world to spin. The whirl of colors taunted him like he was the prey about to be devoured. “Who goes there?” He whipped around
at a sound behind him, causing his vision to dim to black. He fell backwards like a felled tree, but before darkness overtook him, he could have sworn he heard a woman’s soft whisper.
“You are mine now.”
Chapter Three
“I am sorry, Sir Knight.” A soft musical voice soothed him. He forced his lids to obey and open. He was a knight and would not greet a lady like a heap of wood ready for burning.
He blinked in disbelief as he sat up, leaning his forearm on his raised knee. “Surely, I have died and gone to heaven.” A golden light haloed the woman’s beauty as if bestowing homage to her. His brows furrowed at the sight of this fair lady before him. She sat beneath the branches combing her fingers through her dark mahogany colored hair, the light glittering on the strands as if the sun shone upon it. Yet the forest remained dark. “Oh bright lady, what chance has left you alone in these woods? Say the word, I will make sure you find your way back to your dear kindred.”
Her lips curved into a lovely smile. “I have no friends or kin to go back to. I live here in the woods.” She tilted her head as she gazed at him. Her light eyes were as blue as the ocean of Malta.
He came to his feet, but kept his distance so not to frighten her. “I am Sir William Cantwell at your service, my lady.” He bowed deep and with flourish.
Her lips curved and her eyes glowed red. He blinked and her eyes were blue once more. It must have been a trick of the light, the unnatural light surrounding her and her only.
“You braved the forest at night. I’m impressed,” she said as she came to her feet in one fluid move.
He decided he wouldn’t reveal it was his drunken boast that led him here to slay a fiend. Surely, the villagers did not mean this lovely creature. “Do I have something to fear, fair maiden?”
She seemed to consider his question with the utmost care. “Not at the moment, I suppose.”
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