This is what happens to him when he’s inside me.
Robert watched her face. Suddenly he got to his feet. “I have to stand up,” he growled, bracing his knees against the side of the bed. She turned to face him and felt the molten desire pool between her legs again as she stroked her ripening bud. It was arousing not to touch him, just to watch as he neared his release.
“I love you, Robert,” she whispered as he leaned forward, his seed gushing on to her belly like a torrent from a breached dam. He cried out his euphoria, panting hard. Sweat shone on his body. The grim mask that had long disfigured his handsome face was gone.
He shuddered and collapsed onto her. They lay together, breathing heavily. She felt no shame, but Robert? Had she helped him with his demons? Or had she made things worse?
“Merci, Dorianne,” he whispered as he came to his knees and drew her up into his arms, pulling her tightly to him. “Your love has freed me from a worse bondage than my torment in Caen.”
PASSION IN THE BLOOD
EPILOGUE
Henry was king for nine and twenty years after his victory at Tinchebray. In the year of Our Lord One Thousand One Hundred and Twenty, he was devastated by a personal tragedy which would have far reaching effects on the people of Normandie and England.
Robert and Dorianne sired more children, and two survived to adulthood. It amused their parents that Catherine and Marguerite seemed to believe it their responsibility to rule their younger brothers, Alexandre, Laurent and Romain, even after the three became young men. Everyone placed the blame at Robert’s door because he had lavished so much love and attention on his girls.
When François de Giroux died, his estates devolved to his daughter, since he had no male heir. There had never been any trace found of the Crusader, Georges. This seemed to bring to an end the bitter feud between the Giroux family and the Montbryces.
Robert’s cousin, Izzy de Montbryce was appointed master and took over governance of the Castle Giroux for Robert and Dorianne. Izzy decided he would plant an apple orchard, as his father, Hugh had done at Domfort years before. He hoped in time to produce an apple brandy as fine, if not finer than that of Montbryce itself.
Izzy’s brother, Melton de Montbryce took over Domfort on the death of his father, Hugh. Adam de Montbryce succeeded his father, Antoine, as lord of Belisle.
The Montbryces held sway over vast tracts of land in Normandie and England.
Caedmon and Agneta raised their four children, Aidan, Blythe, Edwin and Ragna, spending part of the year in Northumbria at Kirkthwaite Hall, and the winter months in the gentler clime of Ruyton. Blythe became a lady-in-waiting to King Henry’s daughter, Princess Adelaide, who later married the Holy Roman Emperor, Heinrich.
Agneta’s Danish heritage surfaced in Ragna who became known as The Wild Viking Princess. From the age of two, she intimidated older cousins at family gatherings. Her parents despaired of her.
Curthose spent the rest of his life in prison—eight and twenty years. He attempted one escape, from Cardiff Castle. He would have succeeded had his horse not become mired in a bog. The episode infuriated Robert de Montbryce.
As for Baudoin and Carys, and the captive sons of Rhodri—those are other stories in the Montbryce Legacy.
ABOUT ANNA MARKLAND
Thank you for reading Passion in the Blood. If you’d like to leave a review where you purchased the book, and/or on Goodreads, I would appreciate it. Reviews contribute greatly to an author’s success.
I’d love you to visit my newly revamped website and my Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels. Tweet me @annamarkland, join me on Pinterest, or sign up for my newsletter.
I was born and brought up in England, but I’ve lived most of my life in Canada. I was an elementary school teacher for 25 years, a job I loved. After that I worked with my husband in the management of his businesses. He’s a born entrepreneur who likes to boast he’s never had a job! My final “career” was as Director of Administration of a global disaster relief organization. I then embarked on writing a romance, something I’d always wanted to do. I chose the medieval period because it’s my favorite to read.
I have a keen interest in genealogy. This hobby has had a tremendous influence on my stories. My medieval romances are tales of family honor, ancestry, and roots. As an amateur genealogist, I cherished a dream of tracing my own English roots back to the Norman Conquest—most likely impossible since I am not descended from nobility! So I made up a family and my stories follow its members through successive generations.
I want readers to feel happy that the heroes and heroines have found their soul mates and that the power of love has overcome every obstacle. For me, novels are an experience of another world and time. I lose myself in the characters’ lives, always knowing they will triumph in the end and find love. One of the things I enjoy most about writing historical romance is the in-depth research necessary to provide readers with an authentic medieval experience. I love ferreting out bits of historical trivia I never knew! I based the plot of my first novel, Conquering Passion, on a bizarre incident that actually happened to a Norman noblewoman.
I hope you come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.
AIDAN
ELIZABETH ROSE
TITLES BY
ELIZABETH ROSE
LEGACY OF THE BLADE SERIES
Prequel
Lord of the Blade
Lady Renegade
Lord of Illusion
Lady of the Mist
DAUGHTERS OF THE DAGGER SERIES
Prequel
Ruby
Sapphire
Amber
Amethyst
MADMAN MACKEEFE SERIES
Onyx
Aidan
Ian
BARONS OF THE CINQUE PORTS SERIES
The Baron’s Quest
The Baron’s Bounty
The Baron’s Destiny
ELEMENTAL SERIES
The Dragon and the Dreamwalker
The Duke and the Dryad
The Sword and the Sylph
The Sheik and the Siren
TARNISHED SAINTS SERIES
Tarnished Saints’ Christmas (Prequel)
Doubting Thomas
Luring Levi
Judging Judas
Seducing Zeb
Saving Simon
Wrangling James
Praising Pete
Teaching Philip
Loving John
Playing Nate (New)
Igniting Andrew (coming soon)
Taming Thad (coming soon)
GREEK MYTH FANTASY SERIES
The Pandora Curse
The Oracle of Delphi
Thief of Olympus
Kyros’ Secret
SHORT STORIES
One Red Rose
My Christmas Soldier
COWBOYS OF THE OLD WEST SERIES
The Outlaw
The Bounty Hunter
The Gambler
The Drifter
The Gunslinger
Wolfe of the West
TANGLED TALES SERIES
Lady and the Wolf
Just A Kiss (New)
Beast Lord (coming soon)
SINGLE TITLE
The Caretaker of Showman’s Hill
Curse of the Condor
Familiar
GNARLED NURSERY RHYMES
☠Mary, Mary
☠Muffet (coming soon)
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Website: elizabethrosenovels.com
AIDAN
CHAPTER ONE
The Scottish Highlands. Late summer 1362.
Only a madman would use a stone for his pillow. The Stone of Destiny to be precise.
Aidan MacKeefe tossed restlessly in his sleep, having used the Stone of Destiny as his pillow for the last six months now, hoping to have prophetic dreams. Supposedly, the stone was used back in the days
of the Bible, and Jacob had used this exact stone and had dreams of angels.
Aidan was in the middle of a dream. Mist surrounded him in his little stone cottage in the MacKeefe camp. He couldn’t see anything in the darkened room, but then the door opened, and in the bright light – he saw an angel. The angel walked toward him, covered with a long, white, hooded cloak, her fiery red tresses falling in ringlets down to her shoulders. Stopping in front of him, she peeked out from under the hood. While he couldn’t see her face well in the dark, he could still see her wide, green eyes that reminded him of the color of the moors on a warm summer’s day. Her gaze steadied upon him and she lit a candle in her hand, illuminating her face beneath the hood.
Her skin was fair, like alabaster, and a smattering of fine freckles trailed down her nose and spread to her rosy cheeks. Aye, she was a bonnie lass, and though he couldn’t see her body under the robe, he was sure it matched her beauty. He wanted her badly. Then she smiled at him, and her laugh rang out across the room like the sweet song of a small meadow pipit, bringing with it a fragile innocence to its tone. She was a fine angel. A perfect Scottish angel. He wanted naught more than to reach out his hands and touch her, but something weighted him down and he could not move.
As she reached out to him, he saw a strawberry birthmark on the inside of her arm that looked like . . . a skull. He felt himself jerk away from her touch, and then she turned away from him and nodded toward the door. Aidan’s attention focused across the small room, and to his horror he saw English soldiers following her into the cottage with their weapons drawn.
Aidan tried to cry out for help, but couldn’t speak. He tried to reach for his sword at his side, but couldn’t move. Then his eyes scanned down her body, and to his horror, he saw sticking out from the back of her robe right by her doup – a tail. A furry red tail! It reached out and brushed across his face, and in his only form of defense he leaned forward . . . and bit it.
The sickening screech of an animal cried out, pulling him from his slumber. His eyes popped open, bringing him out of the dream and he sat up quickly, not knowing what was happening.
Then he saw Reid, his pet red squirrel scurrying off his chest, scolding him, running in circles around the room. The door opened just then, but instead of his dream angel, his friend, Ian, stood there with a dour expression upon his face.
“What in the clootie’s name was thet screech?” asked Ian. His tall, muscular form filled the entire doorway, and his dark hair looked wet as if he’d just come from bathing in the loch.
Aidan jumped up, realizing he was fully clothed, and that it was well into the morning hours. Then he remembered taking a nap, too full to move after eating his fill of skirlie, an oatmeal and onion dish topped off with a goose egg. The food for the clan had been prepared by his younger sister, Kyla, and the chieftain’s wife, Wren.
The door pushed open from behind Ian, and there stood their good friend, Onyx, who had recently married an Englishwoman, Lady Lovelle of Worcestershire, after finding out that his true family was English, not Scottish at all.
“Aidan, ye dunderheid,” said Onyx, spying the squirrel running around the room in a heated frenzy. Onyx’s two different colored eyes stared back at him in question. “What did ye do te yer squirrel?”
“I think I bit its tail,” he said, running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the stone. The Stone of Scone, or Stone of Destiny as most called it, was a large, black basalt rock with ancient hieroglyphs etched into it. It had iron-looped handles embedded into the sides to use for carrying with a pole through it. The stone was very heavy, and took at least two full-grown men to move it - if they were strong. He’d embedded the thick stone into the dirt of the cottage floor to lower it, and pulled his pallet over it, to it to use as his personal pillow.
“Were ye hungry so soon after eatin’ so much skirlie?” asked Ian, walking into the room and sitting down. Onyx followed, leaving the door wide open. The summer sun spilled into the cottage, lighting it up and bringing with it a fresh breeze from the Highland hills.
“Nay, I had a dream.” Aidan settled himself atop the stone and donned his leather shoes that laced around his legs. Highlanders often went barefooted in the summer, unless they were traveling, like they would be today. “She was a bonnie angel with reid hair, I tell ye.”
“And so ye bit her?” asked Onyx, pulling up a chair and making himself comfortable. He raised an eyebrow in amusement, his one orange eye shining in the sun from the door, while his other black eye stayed in shadow. Most people thought Onyx was a madman because of his eyes. All three of the friends were madmen, and Aidan prided himself of the fact. If there were an outlandish or dangerous act or activity suggested, they were the first to try it just for excitement.
“Nay. Me Scottish angel had a tail – and we all ken thet our enemies have tails,” he said, pointing out the superstition held throughout the lands. “And I couldna move, so I bit it.”
Ian and Onyx both laughed hysterically, holding their sides and almost falling from their chairs.
“Ye big galoot,” said Ian. “Yer squirrel must o’ been sleepin’ on yer chest again and ye bit its tail.”
“Sorry, Reid,” Aidan said, looking over to the other side of the room where his pet was sitting on the floor licking its wounds. “So Dagger,” he continued, calling Onyx by the name only his close friends used, “when did ye get te the Highlands? I thought ye were visitin’ yer new family in England fer awhile.”
“I jest arrived,” Onyx told him. “Actually, Love is stayin’ with her mathair fer awhile in Worcestershire,” he said, speaking about his wife. “E’er since she started gettin’ heavy with our bairn-te-be, she seems te want te be close to her mathair. Since I’m no’ her new faither’s favorite as he still hates Scots, we decided I’d be best off visitin’ the MacKeefes until she’s closer te birthin’ the bairn.”
“I canna picture ye being a faither,” said Aidan.
“I already am a faither te her son, Charles.”
“So is Charles with her then?” Ian inspected a wooden cup on the table and smelled it, then decided to sample its contents. He made a face and set the cup back down quickly.
“Nay.” Onyx leaned back on two legs of the chair, with his arms crossed and also stretching out his feet atop the small table. “The lad wanted te go back te Blackpool and be fostered by me own faither as they are gettin’ along nicely, and I do believe the lad enjoys being a page. Someday he’ll make a fine squire.”
“And how are ye gettin’ along with yer faither?” asked Aidan, knowing Onyx still had some ill feelings for the man who almost killed him as a baby.
“We are gettin’ along better e’ery day,” he relayed. “I even invited him te join us at the Highland Games in the fall.”
The Highland Games was a tradition of many different competitions, and everyone looked forward to it.
“Guid,” said Aidan, reaching over and picking up his sword. He laid it across his lap and shined it with the edge of his purple and green plaid. The clan’s old weaver only knew how to weave one pattern, so the plaids of the MacKeefes ended up all looking the same. “Guid, thet is, thet he’ll be able te see me win the caber toss and also beat ye inte the ground with the sword hold.”
“Aidan, keep dreamin’ on thet rock o’ yers, becooz ye’re daft,” said Onyx. “Ye’ll ne’er beat me at the swordhold, and ye ken it. I can hold swords high and proud to me sides all day and night if I have te, and you’ll ne’er see me arms shakin’ at all.”
“Aye, thet’s true,” agreed Ian with a nod of his head. “He can. And Aidan, what makes ye think ye can beat our chieftain at the caber toss? E’eryone kens thet Storm has held the title o’ winnin’ the caber toss fer the last nine years now. He is countin’ on makin’ it te ten and havin’ a huge celebration.”
“That’s right,” said Wren, Storm’s English wife, as she appeared in the open doorway with Kyla, Aidan’s sister at her side. “My husband is King of the Caber, an
d you all know it’s because I’m his good luck charm.” Wren was a few years over thirty, and she and their laird had four children. Wren’s long, black hair was tied up and covered with a kertch as was custom of married women.
“Aye, brathair,” said Kyla. “Ye canna beat Storm.” Kyla pulled her long, light-brown hair back, tying it with a ribbon as she spoke.
“Well, then I jest need a guid luck charm also,” said Aidan, standing up with his sword in his hand.
“Ye jest dreamt o’ one on thet stone pillow o’ yers,” said Ian with a smile. “Tail and all.”
Onyx and Ian started laughing again, and Aidan threw down his sword and lunged at them, knocking Onyx off the chair and to the ground. Ian, in his usual form, wasted no time in getting Aidan into a headlock.
“Stop it, you three, and tell me what this is all about.” Wren stood with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for an explanation.
“Aidan was tryin’ te dream up a lassie again, usin’ the Stone o’ Destiny,” explained Onyx, pushing up to a standing position and brushing himself off.
“I was no’,” said Aidan, stuck under Ian’s armpit. Then, reaching backwards, he got a hold of his friend and flipped him over his head. Ian landed atop the table with a crash, and Onyx jumped out of the way of being hit. The squirrel chattered away, finding safety atop the Stone of Destiny.
“Then what were ye doin’ takin’ a nap in the middle o’ the day?” asked Onyx.
“’Tis no’ the middle o’ the day,” grumbled Aidan. “And I was tryin’ te have visions in me sleep, the way Jacob did in the Bible.”
“Ye ken ye three are supposed to be guardin’ thet stone, not usin’ it te find lassies te bed,” said Kyla, squinting and looking at them out of one eye. She was six years younger than her brother, at nine and ten years of age, but still, she’d kept up with Aidan and his friends her entire life. Kyla was always around them, wanting to be part of whatever danger they were getting themselves into. She wasn’t close to any of the women of the clan and considered herself more, ‘one of the boys.’
Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels) Page 47
