Today, the stone was bared to Professor Claurice Allrich for inspection. Denise and the others admired the stonework.
“Would you look at that,” one young Englishwomen said. “The carving on this one looks like a woman.”
“Definitely a woman,” Denise said.
“The other tombstone belongs to a man,” another woman said.
Professor Allrich leaned over and read the Latin inscription on the tombstone with the figure of a woman. “Adrenia Tertia Brigomalla Atelli, beloved wife and mother, died 242. Dedicated by her sons Primus, Capito, Victor, and her daughters Pella and Longa.”
“What does this other one say?” A man asked nearby.
Professor Allrich pushed her wire-rimmed glasses higher on her nose. “This inscription is even more extraordinary than the woman’s. It says, for Terentius Marius Atellus of Legio XX VV. Died 241. Dedicated by his devoted wife Adrenia.” She pointed at the Roman numerals. “This says he was a legionnaire with Legion Twenty Valeria Victrix. They were stationed at Deva, which is now modern-day Chester.”
“What was he doing in Godmanchester?” Denise asked.
The professor shrugged. “Anyone’s guess. Perhaps he retired from the military here. There’s more. This last part says, ‘for a Roman’s heart, she was truly saved.’ The woman’s last name appears Briton. The man’s name is Roman in origin. She was probably a lowly Briton married to a Roman citizen. Not something you find on a Roman era tombstone every day.”
A warm glow started in the pit of Denise’s stomach. She wondered, in her already active imagination, what this couple had been like.
The professor whispered new words, these not carved on stone but spoken centuries ago, “Omnia vincit amor et nos cedamus amori.”
“What does that mean?” Denise asked.
The professor smiled. “In the immortal words of Virgil, ‘Love conquers all; let us, too yield to love.’”
Denise knew a story was carved into this stone, a testament to a love that had overcome hardship and social rank. A love that lasted forever.
About the Author
Suspenseful, erotic, edgy, thrilling, romantic, adventurous. All these words describe Denise A. Agnew’s award-winning novels. Romantic Times Book Review Magazine called her romantic suspense novels “top-notch” and her erotic romance Primordial received a TOP PICK from Romantic Times Book Review Magazine. Denise’s record proves that with paranormal, time travel, romantic comedy, contemporary, historical, erotic romance, and romantic suspense novels under her belt, she enjoys writing about a diverse range of subjects. The fact she has lived in Colorado, Hawaii and the United Kingdom has given her a lifetime of ideas. Her experiences with archaeology and archery have crept into her work, as well as numerous travels through the UK and Ireland. Denise lives in Arizona with her real-life hero, her husband. Visit Denise’s Web site at www.deniseagnew.com
Look for these titles by Denise A. Agnew
Now Available:
Male Call
Unconditional Surrender
Private Maneuvers
Close Quarters
Marshall’s Law
With ghosts like these, who needs TAPS?
Marshall’s Law
© 2010 Denise A. Agnew
If Dana Cummings was inclined to list the best ways to meet men, having one arrest her for burglary—during a tornado, no less—wouldn’t be in the top ten. Dating isn’t high on her agenda, period. She’s sworn to never again fall for know-it-all men with fiery gazes and devastating smiles.
Besides, she’s only in Wyoming to help her eccentric aunt find out if horny ghosts really do haunt the family bed. And hopefully bust a hellacious case of writer’s block. Extracurricular activity with a gruff, hunky lawman is off limits, even if he does fire her libido.
Witnessing too much of life’s seedy side led Brennan Marshall to live by three simple rules: work hard, play hard, and never fall for a sweet-faced female with a witty tongue and snappy comebacks. Especially the ones with a dollop of vulnerability—like Dana. But their razor-sharp sexual tension cuts right through his defenses and leads them on a dangerous journey.
One that will test the limits of their beliefs—and could cost their lives.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Marshall’s Law:
“What did Lucille tell you about these strange occurrences plaguing her?” he asked, leaning his arms on the desk.
“She called my mother a few weeks back. Mom said Aunt Lucille had this trembling voice, like she was scared. That’s not normal for Aunt Lucille. She bends under pressure but never gives in. She’s one tough lady. Anyway, Aunt Lucille said that she’d heard noises in the attic and in the basement. Especially the basement.”
“What kind of noises?”
Dana wished she hadn’t opened her mouth and mentioned the basement. “Uh…well…” She glanced up and saw he waited, twiddling his thumbs like he had all day. “You’re not going to believe this but—”
“Trust me, I’ve heard just about everything at least once.”
“Not this you haven’t.”
He tossed her a smile. “Humor me.”
“Okay. You asked for it. You know that big…uh…heart-shaped bed downstairs?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she started hearing people having…” She squirmed in her chair and made a face.
“Go ahead. People what?”
“People having sex. She heard people having sex on the bed. But when she went downstairs there was no one there.”
Marshall never twitched. Yet Dana saw the suspicious twinkle in his eyes before he managed to smother it. Instead, he did something much more disturbing.
Rising from his chair, he came around the side of the desk and paced the broad area behind her chair. She craned around to watch him.
“What kind of sounds exactly?” he asked.
Her chair made an obnoxious protest as she turned it so she could observe his purposeful stride. Eight big steps one way, eight big steps back. Eight big steps one way, eight big steps back.
“I’m going to get hypnotized watching you do that. Would you mind taking a seat?”
He increased his pace. “I think better this way.” He came to an abrupt halt, leaned against the wall, cocked one booted foot across his ankle and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.
She gulped. Good thing he wore that flannel shirt. If he’d stood there in that tight T-shirt—
“What kinds of sounds?” he asked, jerking her back to the real world.
She couldn’t say it. Come on, Dana. You aren’t a blushing teen talking to a boy in high school. Spit it out.
When she didn’t answer fast enough, he walked toward her and rested his hands on the arms of her chair. She leaned back, inhaling a quick, startled breath.
“What are you trying to hide from me? Maybe you know something about the sounds?” The query came filled with subtle, sensual nuances that caused his voice to vibrate in his chest and made her tingle in places that shouldn’t be tingling.
In defense she crossed her arms. “Of course I’m not hiding anything.” When he glared, she took the plunge and elaborated. “You have heard people having sex before, haven’t you, Marshall? Gasps. Sighs.” She shrugged. “Grunts. Moans. She said it’s like people having sex, and they never get to…you know.”
A thunderstorm seemed to build in his eyes, but not the kind that promised rage. The type that guaranteed sinful, daring pleasures. She’d never seen a man look at her this way. Predatory and intense all at once, ready to eat her alive. No mistaking that look.
His lips parted and she stared at his mouth.
“No, I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me?”
A tiny, rebellious corner of her almost refused to speak. What could he do to her anyway? Spank her?
A hot blush swept into her face. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Marshall’s devouring gaze cruised over her face. His attention landed on her lips.
Crazy arousal spiraled t
hrough her, and she leaned forward until they almost touched noses. Dana couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so out of control and so turned on all at once. Hell, she’d never felt this way before. “These…these horny ghosts or whoever they are never get to finish—”
“Coming?”
Her entire body felt like it might go up in flames. Oh man! Why couldn’t he have said something like climaxing? Did he have to use a word that described the nitty gritty?
“Yeah. That’s it,” she said, licking her lips and swallowing hard. She slumped in the chair.
Blinded—she by nature, he by loyalty.
Out of the Dark
© 2008 P.G. Forte
As a blind woman seen as a flawed commodity, Lady Lynett is used to the idea that she’s unlovable. But her parents’ plan to force her into a loveless marriage is too much. Wandering, upset and lost in the cellars of the King’s castle, the darkness doesn’t frighten her, but the murder plot she overhears chills her to the bone. Worse, no one believes her, and the only one she can turn to is a Norman sheriff whose voice sounds disturbingly like one of the conspirators.
Basil, Sheriff of Ipswitch, is battle-hardened, fiercely loyal—and torn apart. He’s falling in love with the Saxon beauty, and he longs to show her she is worthy of love despite her physical limitation.
But the very corruption she is helping him root out may implicate his own half brother. How can he turn his back on family—for an Anglo-Saxon woman?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Out of the Dark:
“The sheriff might be a part of this.”
“I can’t believe that,” Geoff said, his voice getting louder as he made his point. “I’ve known Basil for at least five years. He’s honorable.”
Lynett turned towards Geoff. He was leaning against a tapestried wall near the fireplace. Even the vague outline of his lithe, powerful body seemed ready to spring into action.
“He came along immediately afterward,” she said. “He sounded angry that he’d missed those men.”
“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“You must ask Basil for protection.” Matilda waved her arms while making her point. “Those men are trying to kill you.”
“I don’t know for sure today was connected to yesterday in the cellars. The men today were ruffians. They may have wanted ransom.”
“It’s more likely the two are connected,” Geoff said.
“At least you believe me. My parents think I’m hearing things. Since I lost my sight, strange things sometimes happen.”
Lynett touched her crystal where it nestled under her blue woolen bodice.
Matilda gave Lynett a hug before plopping down in a chair opposite the fireplace.
“Of course, we believe you.”
Geoff moved away from the wall and approached Lynett.
“If there’s the slightest chance of trouble brewing, the sheriff needs to know. The crown must be protected.”
“That’s right,” Matilda said.
“Basil has the king’s trust,” Geoff added.
“You should give him yours,” Matilda insisted.
Lynett’s head was a whirl. Bewildered, she started sputtering.
“But…but…his voice…”
“Many guests from northern shires stay at the king’s residences during winter court,” Matilda cautioned her, “including Basil’s father. They could easily sound alike.”
Lynett felt immediately relieved.
Basil’s appearance in the cellar could have been pure coincidence.
“Do you think the earl could be the conspirator?” Lynett asked.
Geoff shook his head in a shadowy movement.
“The earl would never turn against his king. But there are others from Chester who would.”
The heaviness surrounding Lynett’s heart since yesterday lifted. The bond she’d immediately felt with Basil hadn’t been misplaced. Her heart had known him innocent even while her mind thought him guilty.
“You must tell Basil. If the king is in danger, there must be no delay.” Geoff was adamant. His certainty was like the tide. It could not be fought.
“I’ll talk with the sheriff.”
“You must tell your parents, also.”
Lynett turned in the direction of Matilda.
“Must I?”
Her stomach knotted at the thought of it.
“It’ll be worse if you don’t.”
“But they told me not to get involved in politics.”
“They have no choice. The king must be protected.”
“You’re right, of course.” Lynett was resigned.
“We’ll go with you.”
“From now on,” Geoff said, “don’t go anywhere by yourself. It’s too dangerous.”
Lynett agreed. Her world was definitely no longer safe.
Basil bent over the large oak table in an anteroom of the Treasury on the storeroom level of the Tower, going over the figures the scribe had written down and double-checking the tally. A pen and ink map of the cellars cross-referenced to lists of supplies in each storeroom was spread out on the table. The scribe and the retainers who had helped take the inventory were seated nearby.
When the Treasury door crashed open, Basil turned towards it, exasperated at an interruption. Only minutes before, according to a two-hour rotation schedule, the guards assigned to the vault changed with much stamping of feet and shouting of orders. Basil had just refocused on the inventory figures when here was another interruption. He turned towards the intruder, frowning. His frown changed to a smile when he saw who it was.
“Lord Geoffrey, good to see you.” He shoved his wooden chair backward, scraping it across the stone floor, and rose to greet his friend with a bear hug and much slapping of backs.
“And I, you. It’s been awhile.”
Basil offered him a chair, but Geoff chose to stand.
“What brings you to the bowels of the Tower?”
“Lady Lynett of Osfrith.”
Basil’s stomach turned queasy.
“What does she want?”
“It’s a confidential matter of some urgency. I’ll take you to her.”
“You rich people don’t care what important work you interrupt, do you?”
Geoff chuckled.
“We like to keep you poor bastards downtrodden.”
Basil shook his head wearily, resigned to not completing the verification of the inventory. At the same time, his heart beat faster as he wondered how the Saxon beauty would treat him today.
Basil waved a hand towards the cluttered table.
“Give me a moment to finish up here.”
He addressed the scribe and the retainers. “Lock the map and lists in the trunk. Give the guard the key. Meet me here tomorrow at dawn so we can finish the tally.”
He stuck his short sword into its sheath on his belt and turned back to Geoff.
“Lead on, Baron,” Basil said. “Let’s find out why the lady raised this hue and cry.”
Basil sympathized with Lynett as she stumbled over her tongue while relating the events of yesterday and this morning. Her she-devil mother butted in, criticizing and belittling.
He was also incensed.
She should have told me this yesterday. I need to report this to the king immediately.
They were assembled in her parents’ chamber. It was one of the more elegantly furnished chambers in the Tower with heavy velvet bed draperies, brightly colored tapestries and leather chairs. The large fireplace was well-stocked with logs against the chill of a bleak November day.
Lord Geoffrey and he leaned against the wall beneath the shuttered window. Lady Matilda and Lady Lynett sat on chairs. Lady Durwyn sat primly on the edge of the bed, her feet on a stepping stool. The position put her higher than the other women. Her husband had pulled a cushioned stool towards the bed and sat like a whipped cur at his wife’s feet.
Lady Lynett had just finished relating this morning’s abduction when her
mother broke in.
“You must forgive my daughter, Sheriff. She’s given to flights of fancy.”
Lady Durwyn rose and faced him. She took a deep breath and pulled herself up to her full height.
“It’s difficult for me to divulge this, but for the longest time our daughter told us she could see the ghost of my deceased mother-in-law.”
“But, Mother,” Lynett said, wringing her hands, a deep frown creasing her forehead. “Lord Geoffrey found the rug they wrapped me in.”
“I don’t deny you were kidnapped, Daughter,” her mother said in a tone that clearly said ‘do not interrupt’. “The bruising on your face is serious, not to speak of unsightly.”
Lynett visibly winced.
“I just say you were taken for ransom, not conspiracy. After all, the wool trade made my lands prosperous. I’m quite wealthy. Any fool knows those ruffians were after our money.”
Lynett blushed, looking embarrassed. Basil was about to come to her defense when her father spoke up.
“My dear, we need to keep an open mind.”
Lord Wilfgive’s high-pitched, tenor voice seemed excessively conciliatory. In size, Lynett’s father was only a couple of inches taller than his daughter. His wife towered over both. Despite his well-known reputation as a scholar, on the short-legged stool he seemed insignificant. The exception was the quality of his clothing. That was designed to impress.
“We should hear what the sheriff has to say,” Lord Geoffrey said.
Everyone’s attention focused on Basil. When Lady Lynett turned towards where he stood, his heart speeded up despite his intention to be disinterested. He cleared his throat.
“I’m investigating a series of robberies from the Tower.”
His bass voice reverberated against the stone walls, making him self-conscious. This was the aspect of his occupation he liked the least. A man of action, words were a second choice.
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