“Not any longer. She is with child. Not my child.” Edouard’s eyes sparkled. “Another man’s.”
Shock rushed through Juliana. “I did not know.”
“I vow ’tis not yet common knowledge. My sire informed me a short while ago. Because of the circumstances, I am no longer bound to marry Nara.”
Juliana’s indrawn breath froze in her lungs. “Really?”
“Really.” Edouard kissed the grass ring he’d made her. Then he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “Will you be my wife, Juliana?”
Joy raced through her.
“I asked my father for his permission. He agreed.” Looking at his makeshift ring, Edouard said, “’Tis not an appropriate ring for a betrothal, but if you agree . . .”
“Aye.”
His gaze flew up. “Aye . . . As in . . ?”
Turning her hand to weave her fingers through his, she said, “I will be honored to be your wife.”
He swallowed, the happiness in his features tinged with anxiety. “You must know . . . I am not asking just . . . because I am no longer betrothed to Nara.” He kissed their joined hands. “I love you, Juliana. I believe I have loved you since you told me ‘goodbye’ at Sherstowe.”
Surprise fluttered through her. “Why then?”
Grudging laughter rumbled from him. “You made me acknowledge my flaws. Because of you, I came to realize that even a wealthy lord’s son must earn respect—and his lady’s love.”
How earnestly he spoke. Yet his honest words buoyed the elation inside her. Unable to restrain her gladness any longer, she smiled. “I love you, Edouard de Lanceau, my soon-to-be husband.”
He grinned. “Soon-to-be husband and . . .”
The glint in his eyes hinted at astounding news. “And?” she echoed.
“Lord of Waddesford Keep.”
“Edouard! Oh—!”
“’Tis all right with you? I know this keep holds many ‘ghosts’ for both of us.”
“Together, we shall bring love and happiness to this castle. In Mayda’s honor. If ’tis all right with you?”
“Aye.” Edouard smiled and rose to stand before her, tall and beautiful and . . . hers.
The thought left a delicious, tingling burn in her belly as he drew her to her feet and slid his arms around her waist, drawing her in close. She fell gently against him, her bosom pressed to the front of his hauberk. Love for him soared inside her as she embraced him, washed in shadow and sunlight.
“I am glad you are happy, Lady de Greyne, my soon-to-be wife and lady of this keep.”
“I would be even happier,” she murmured, hardly recognizing her throaty voice, “if you kissed me.”
Desire gleamed in his eyes. “A kiss with meaning?” he said, his mouth tantalizingly close.
An excited shudder raced through Juliana, for he’d remembered her impassioned words from long ago.
“A kiss that proves the love between us?” he added huskily, his eyes glowing with that thrilling blue fire. A roguish grin kicked up his mouth.
“A kiss that proves we were destined to be together,” she whispered, while her breath mingled with his.
“We were,” he whispered back. His arms shifted, squeezing her hips even tighter against his.
She slid up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
A ravenous growl broke from him. She inhaled on a gasp as his mouth swept against hers. So tenderly. As though she was extremely precious to him.
Over and over and over their lips met. Tender kisses. Rougher ones. He groaned and his tongue slid into her mouth, deepening the shocking, breathless, wondrous contact. Oh, God. Oh. God.
The burn within her intensified until every tiny part of her body seemed ablaze with hunger.
Drawing back, she shivered through a gasp. “I never imagined a kiss could be so . . . magnificent.”
Edouard winked. “Shall we indulge in another?”
A sound intruded into her bliss: footfalls, drawing near.
Still in Edouard’s embrace, Juliana looked to see who approached. Azarel strode into the garden, a baby cradled in her arms.
“Rosemary!” Juliana cried.
Smiling, Azarel nodded. “Lord de Lanceau sent one of his warriors to the village to collect her. A favor, I am told, for his son.”
“Edouard, thank you,” Juliana cried, stepping from his hold to take Rosemary into her arms. “She has grown.” The little girl warbled. Eyes wide, she stared up at Juliana.
Juliana smiled. How complete she felt. How very, very loved.
Beside her, Edouard chuckled. He slid an arm around her waist and kissed her flushed cheek. “Are you happy, Juliana?”
“I am.”
“Good. I mean to keep you happy for the rest of your living days.” He kissed her again, a slow, passionate mingling of their mouths.
“That was wonderful,” she breathed.
He growled against her ear, a low, lusty sound that told her he’d not only kiss her in that way again, but that he’d share many more sensual delights with her. “I promise you, ’tis only the beginning of my persuasion.”
—The End—
ABOUT CATHERINE KEAN
Bestselling, award-winning novelist Catherine Kean is a Kindle Unlimited All-Star author of medieval romances. Her love of history began with visits to England during summer vacations, when her British father took her to crumbling medieval castles, dusty museums filled with fascinating artifacts, and historic churches. Her love of the awe-inspiring past stuck with her as she completed a B.A.(Double Major, First Class) in English and History. She completed a year-long Post Graduate course with Sotheby’s auctioneers in London, England, and worked for several years in Canada as an antiques and fine art appraiser.
After she married a tall, handsome, and charming Brit and moved to Florida, she started writing novels, her lifelong dream. She wrote her first medieval romance, A Knight’s Vengeance, while her baby daughter was napping. Catherine’s books were originally published in paperback and several were released in Czech, German, and Thai foreign editions. She has won numerous awards for her stories, including the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. Her novels also finaled in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards and the National Readers’ Choice Awards.
When not working on her next book, Catherine enjoys cooking, baking, browsing antique shops, shopping with her daughter, and gardening. She lives in Florida with her husband, daughter, and two spoiled rescue cats. Visit her website at http://www.catherinekean.com
PASSION IN THE BLOOD
THE MONTBRYCE LEGACY BOOK 4
ANNA MARKLAND
TITLES BY
ANNA MARKLAND
MONTBRYCE LEGACY
Conquering Passion—Ram and Mabelle, Rhodri and Rhonwen
If Love Dares Enough—Hugh and Devona, Antoine and Sybilla
Defiant Passion-Rhodri and Rhonwen
A Man of Value—Caedmon and Agneta
Dark Irish Knight—Ronan and Rhoni
Haunted Knights—Adam and Rosamunda, Denis and Paulina
Passion in the Blood—Robert and Dorianne, Baudoin and Carys
Dark and Bright—Rhys and Annalise
The Winds of the Heavens—Rhun and Glain, Rhydderch and Isolda
Dance of Love—Izzy and Farah
Carried Away—Blythe and Dieter
Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan and Nolana
Wild Viking Princess—Ragna and Reider
Hearts and Crowns—Gallien and Peridotte
Fatal Truths—Alex and Elayne
Sinful Passions—Bronson and Grace; Rodrick and Swan
VIKINGS
The Rover Bold—Bryk and Cathryn
The Rover Defiant—Torstein and Sonja
The Rover Betrayed—Magnus and Judith
NOVELLAS
Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram and Ruby
Passion’s Fire—Matthieu and Brigandine (2016)
Banished—Sigmar and Audra (2016) in Sirens of the Northern Seas
CALEDONI
A CHRONICLES
Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade and Margaret
Book II Highland Tides—Braden and Charlotte
Book 2.5 Highland Dawn—Keith and Aurora (a Kindle Worlds book)
Book III Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea
PASSION IN THE BLOOD
CHAPTER ONE
Ellesmere, England
August 2nd 1100
Robert de Montbryce had never seen his brother so animated. Though born and raised together in Ellesmere Castle in England, he and Baudoin saw each other infrequently. Robert now lived in Normandie, having assumed responsibility, as the eldest son, for the ancestral castle at Montbryce. He loved Normandie. Montbryce Castle was where he belonged, but he enjoyed visiting his parents in England. He missed his family.
Robert had to admit his brother had grown up in his shadow, but Baudoin’s calm exterior belied his deeply held convictions. Robert could certainly see that passion now.
They were often mistaken for twins. As the only male offspring, the onus on them to provide heirs to carry on the Montbryce name was heavy, and they were reminded of it more and more frequently nowadays. Robert had never been in love, but he suspected Baudoin was enamored with Carys, the castle’s Welsh healer. He chuckled inwardly at the thought of the hornet’s nest that might unleash. The Earl of Ellesmere’s son in love with the daughter of the Earl’s nemesis, Welsh rebel chieftain Rhodri ap Owain! He would not want to be in Baudoin’s boots when their parents found out!
Most noblemen of his acquaintance would scoff at the idea of loving their wives, but Robert wanted what his parents had—a deep, passionate love.
He sometimes despaired of ever finding a lifemate, a woman who would make a good Comtesse when he inherited his father’s Norman title, especially now, given the volatile political situation in Normandie.
This was the topic that had Baudoin holding forth animatedly as they relaxed in the Hall after a heavy midday meal. The air was still redolent with the aroma of spit-roasted venison. Their parents had left for their solar as soon as they had finished eating, making an excuse. Did they believe their children were fooled? They knew full well Ram and Mabelle de Montbryce would wile away the afternoon in their chamber. Their passion had never waned over thirty years.
Rhoni and her husband Ronan, visiting from Ireland, had shared her brothers’ amusement and then gone off to their solar.
Robert chuckled. “Rhoni laughs with us, but she and Ronan cannot keep their hands off each other either.”
Baudoin startled him by banging his fist on the wooden table. “Papa is right. We’d be much better off with one ruler for Normandie and England. Serving two masters is intolerable, like walking a tightrope. What’s the sentiment in Normandie?”
Things said within the confines of Ellesmere might be considered treason by many, but Montbryces never betrayed each other. Family loyalty was paramount. Though they could hear the distant chatter of servants in the kitchens, Robert felt comfortable they were too far away to overhear. “Most of the Norman barons favor Curthose.”
Baudoin snorted. “Ah! Your namesake! The misbegotten Duke of the Normans for the past thirteen years. They’re afraid he’ll confiscate their lands if they don’t support him.”
Robert had been slouching in his chair, legs outstretched. Now he tensed and sat up. “Listen, I don’t support him because I was named for him. We in Normandie have to be mindful he has the power to take our lands.”
Baudoin nodded his understanding. “You’re right, but most Norman barons own lands in England as well, and here we have to please King William Rufus.”
Robert threw up his hands. “Who knows what the Conqueror had in mind when he divided up his empire the way he did? Normandie for Curthose, England for Rufus and gold for the scholarly Henry, who’ll no doubt be a bishop one day. If only they could get along as a family, like the Montbryces!”
Baudoin slapped his thigh and laughed at his brother’s jest. “Oui. At least you and I have never emptied chamberpots on each other’s head!”
They enjoyed the humor, remembering their parents’ disgust when news of the royal prank had reached Ellesmere years ago. Their laughter died when their father unexpectedly entered the Hall, clad only in his bed robe, his face ashen. Steward Bonhomme accompanied him, jaw clenched.
Robert and Baudoin came to their feet immediately. Both spoke at once. “What’s amiss, Papa?”
Ram clutched a parchment which he thrust at Robert. “The King is dead.”
Baudoin read the message over his brother’s shoulder. His face betrayed his shock. “William Rufus?”
Robert gasped and made the Sign of the Cross. “I can’t believe this.”
Their father swore. “Believe it! As you see, he was killed yesterday in a hunting accident in the New Forest. Your mother and I were—well, never mind. Steward Bonhomme brought the message to me as soon as it arrived. The rider insisted we get the news immediately. Since he was from the court—”
He cinched his bed robe more tightly and sat down wearily in a chair near the hearth, rubbing his knees.
Robert rolled the parchment and gave it back to his father. “We should go to the Map Room to discuss this. Too many people come in and out of here. We need to make some decisions.”
Baudoin strode to the door. “I’ll fetch Rhoni and Ronan.”
Bonhomme held up his hand. “I can see to that, milord Baudoin.”
~~~
For as long as he lived Ram, Comte de Montbryce and Earl of Ellesmere, would remember that when news of the cataclysmic event was brought to him he was making sweet love with his beautiful wife, Mabelle. They had enjoyed each other for more than thirty years, and the passion and love they shared had never diminished. Rheumatism slowed him down a bit these days, but they still experienced dizzying heights of rapture when they lay together, their bodies joined in bliss.
They were spending the later years of their lives in Ellesmere, the comfortable castle they had built together, and had fallen into the habit of wiling away pleasant afternoons playing with each other’s bodies. It was one of these passion filled trysts that had been rudely interrupted by loud insistent banging on the outer door of their chambers.
“A moment!” Ram had risen reluctantly from his bed and donned his robe, hoping it might adequately conceal his erection. “Wait for me”, he had whispered to Mabelle, inhaling the scent of her. “This will take but a few minutes, I hope.”
She had smiled and curled up in the linens. “Don’t be long.”
Ram’s hopes were cruelly dashed when he read the terse message handed to him by his steward. He had gone immediately to find his sons without bothering to dress.
As they made their way now to the Map Room, his mind was in turmoil. His thoughts went back to the first time he had seen this castle, a reward granted him by William the Conqueror in the year of our Lord One Thousand and Sixty-Six, thirty and four years before.
He had fallen to his knees in dismay at the dilapidated condition of the crude Saxon earthwork. It had taken him and his family the intervening years to build the castle and the town and its environs into a prosperous and vibrant community. He was proud of his achievement.
He recalled happy scenes of Robert, Baudoin and Hylda Rhonwen growing up there, and the bitter memory of the lonely torture of his months-long separation from his family, kidnapped by the notorious Welsh rebel Rhodri ap Owain. How elated they had been to return home after their ransom.
Now, here was a danger that might destroy everything his family had worked for. They could lose everything in England and Normandie. He again sought the chair nearest the hearth. “I’ve never had any great love for Rufus, as you know, but this could jeopardise Ellesmere, and your earldom, Baudoin.”
The color drained from Baudoin’s face.
“Your inheritance in Normandie may also be at risk, Robert.”
Both sons stood in silence, contemplating the notion of the unthinkable possibility of lo
sing Montbryce.
Robert spoke first. “I need to get back to Normandie. I’ll get a message to them when we leave here. Once we’ve made some decisions.”
Ram rubbed his knees. “I didn’t support Rufus as the third son of the Conqueror when he first came to the English throne, believing the eldest son, Curthose, should inherit. But the news of his sudden death means trouble ahead. Curthose and Henry will both want the throne of England.”
Baudoin joined his father by the hearth and sat with his forearms on his thighs, gazing into the flames. “William Rufus ruled by bad faith and brutality rather than by skill and diplomacy. But his death brings to the fore again the underlying problem for Anglo-Normans—we have a ruler over our lands in Normandie, Duke Curthose, and a ruler in England, King William Rufus, which has resulted in Normans serving two masters. Robert and I were just now discussing that very problem.”
Ram stood, flexing his knees. “Exactement! You have described the problem exactly. What I and others have tried and failed to achieve over the years is one ruler for both, otherwise there’s too much instability.”
Baudoin sank back into his chair. “When Duke Robert decided to raise a Crusading army and virtually pawned Normandie to William Rufus for ten thousand marks, it defused the problem for a while, but now he’s on his way back from the Crusade, a richer man.”
They were silent for a while before Ram spoke again. “The King’s death will leave the Anglo-Norman nobility in a position of having to choose whom to support. I chose the wrong side before in supporting Curthose, and almost fell out of favor. He failed then to come to England to rally his supporters, and I switched my allegiance in the nick of time and held on to our lands and titles.”
Baudoin stood. “We’ll have to make some decisions. I’ll get a message to Caedmon at Shelfhoc Hall, asking him to come as soon as possible. It’s fortuitous he’s in Ruyton and not at home in Northumbria.”
Ram was proud to see his youngest son act decisively and thankful his sons had been accepting of their half-brother, Caedmon, Ram’s illegitimate son. “You’re right. Henry will move quickly to be crowned.”
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