In all, it seemed a dream come true to be sitting on the lawns of her beloved country estate, surrounded by old friends and others she loved so very dearly. Fontaine marveled at the wonder of it all.
“I must tell Daniel how breathtaking the gardens are this year,” Lady Lightender sighed. “What a gift that man has with green and growing things.”
“Yes, he does,” Lady Lathan added. “I’ve tried to convince him to winter at Lathan Green this year, to tend my greenhouse…but he is too happy here at The Graces, it seems. And I cannot fault him for it…for it is a beautiful space, Fontaine darling.”
“I think so too, Mother,” Fontaine said, smiling.
“The sign of a sweet and kind mistress, it is,” Lady Lightender said, nodding with approval in Fontaine’s direction.
All at once, the calming song of the larks in the trees was stuttered by a sudden boisterous snort from Big William. He lay stretched out on the grass a few feet away, entirely lost in the warmth and peace of a summer nap.
“Oh, my!” Lady Lathan giggled. “What a contented noise.”
“But wherever is Knight off to?” Lady Lightender asked, shading her face with her hand and searching the green horizon for the rogue.
“I am only just here,” Knight said, striding up behind her, bending and kissing her quickly on the cheek. “Come to take my wife away in order to ravish her with much impassioned kissing.”
Fontaine smiled as Knight took her hand, helping her to her feet. “I’ve a hearty thirst for peaches, and it is in need of quenching,” he said.
“For mercy’s sake, Des!” Lady Lathan exclaimed. “You are far too impish yet. Pray try to educate him in a few shreds of propriety here and there, Fontaine. I beg you.”
“I’ve given that up,” Fontaine giggled.
“She’s never tried, Mother…so do not trust her,” Knight chuckled, carefully guiding Fontaine away from the party.
Together they walked along the river, Knight and Fontaine, and Fontaine felt her happiness was complete. Knight was her own, belonged to her only…mind, heart, and soul. She reveled in the simple knowledge she could touch him whenever the urge came upon her, laugh whole-heartedly and comfortably with him, send him into a fit of passion with a simple kiss. And now his child was growing within her body, and the knowledge gave her a pleasure, a joy she could not express in words.
Her thoughts of contentment and unimaginable joy caused her to sigh with satisfaction, and Knight asked, “What is it?”
Fontaine ceased in strolling and turned to look up at him. “You are…you are everything to me, Knight,” she told him, her eyes filling with tears.
He smiled, letting his hand caress the firm swell of her stomach. “Am I?” he asked, leaning forward and placing a loving kiss on her forehead.
“You are,” she told him, covering his hand with one of her own. “For she is of you, too.”
“She?” Knight asked, his smile broadening. “How are you so certain it is my daughter you carry?”
Fontaine smiled, gazing into the emerald flash of his eyes. “I’ve seen her in my dreams of late,” she explained.
Knight kissed Fontaine’s cheek, letting his lips caress her neck as he whispered, “So have I,” into her ear.
“Have you?” she whispered as he turned her, pulling her as tightly against his body as their tender baby would allow.
“I have,” he mumbled, before tasting her kiss.
“And what is her name?” Fontaine asked, thrilled by the feel of his kisses on her neck.
“Her name is Peaches,” he chuckled.
“Peaches?” Fontaine exclaimed, pushing him away playfully. “Why not Apples then?” she giggled.
“Because I prefer peaches,” he said, pulling her fully into the power of his embrace.
“Darling,” Fontaine said, reaching up and running her fingers through the softness of his hair. “One does not name one’s daughter after fruit.”
“I see,” Knight said. “Then you would prefer we call her Fanny?”
“You are no more than an impish boy today, Desiderio Knight Lathan!” Fontaine giggled. “Now in earnest. What are we to call our daughter?”
Knight’s smile faded a bit, but his eyes flashed with emotion. Raising a hand to Fontaine’s face, he cupped her cheek in his hand, caressing her lips with his thumb. “In truth, I would beg to call her Pratina…for it is where I found myself…and my love.” Fontaine sighed, awed by his charming tenderness.
“Oh, my Knight,” she breathed, as he held her tightly in his arms, scattering kisses in her hair. “Thank you for rescuing me, for being the Knight of my dreams…for loving me.”
“There is only one thing I need for true happiness, my peach,” he mumbled letting his lips gently brush hers as he spoke.
“What might be that one thing?” Fontaine asked, thrilling as the moisture from his lips clung to her own.
“To belong to you and to own you in return. I love you,” he mumbled.
In the next moment Fontaine relished the passion that erupted between them as Knight’s mouth captured her own. For as always it spoke to her, confirming to her heart he was hers…her own rogue…the rogue, Knight.
Author’s Note
I always planned to extend The Rogue Knight into a full-length novel. However, when I sat down to broaden it, I found that too much time had passed since I originally wrote the e-book—that my brain had simply let it go at some point. Therefore, I decided to accept, that like The Unobtainable One, Indebted Deliverance and The General’s Ambition, The Rogue Knight would forever remain a novella. I would much rather enjoy the story as it is, and not try to force it into something else.
Furthermore, from this experience, I’ve also learned that I need to write my Author’s Notes immediately after I’ve finished a book. Again, too much time has passed since I wrote The Rogue Knight for me to clearly remember all the little hidden details my brain embedded in the story. Yet, fear not!—for I do remember a few trivial snippets that I can share. Hopefully they’ll offer a little entertainment.
The Rogue Knight Trivia Snippets
Snippet #1— Via the names of estates and towns, there are several references to friends and acquaintances of mine in The Rogue Knight. For instance, the country estate Fontaine loves so well (The Graces) is named for my friend Grace—to whom this book is dedicated! Lady Lightender’s estate, Hunter’s Bingham, is named for two friends I have that are sisters. Their shared maiden name was Bingham, and at the time I wrote The Rogue Knight, one sister was already married—her last name is Hunt—thus, Hunter’s Bingham. The lovely town of Yoke Mortan was contrived by switching some letters around in a reader’s name who had recently written me a very kind and encouraging e-mail. So you see? You never know what my silly little brain will come up with!
Snippet #2—The little story behind exactly how Fontaine received her name is kind of random. As a little girl, I had known a very pretty teenage girl named, Fontaine. At the time, I thought the name was so beautiful—and just perfect for the girl who owned. In fact, I continued to love the name for years! Now, if you’ve read the Author’s Note in The Touch of Sage, you know how ‘creative’ I got when I was pregnant where possible baby names were concerned. Thus, when I was expecting my oldest child (my daughter Sandy), I suggested Fontaine to my husband, Kevin, as a possible option if we had a girl. Um—let’s just say he didn’t go for it. Still, I continued to think it was a pretty name. Now, though I do still like the name Fontaine, I don’t really like Pratina as her surname. In truth, I think it may have been something I just plugged in as her temporary last name, and then never got around to changing. So, just for trivia’s sake—I love the name Fontaine, but wish I would’ve changed her last name to something else.
Snippet #3—I will confess that I LOVE Knight’s name! Love it! And I love it in its entirety! Desiderio Knight Lathan! Seriously—I think it’s delicious! It’s one of my personal favorites when it comes to hero names. It just rolls off the tong
ue like warm, sweet, chocolate syrup—don’t you think?
Snippet #4—Kind of a funny story about the title of The Rogue Knight is this: You know how I always have to get the title in my head before I can finish a book—sometimes even before I start it, right? Well, The Rogue Knight was the one exception to my O.C.D. so far. I had actually finished the book, but could not for the life of me come up with the title! I think I was just kind of tired and stressed out. It was around that Holiday time of year when you just want to sit and eat fudge and watch Christmas movies. Anyway, I was talking to my friend, Marnie, on the phone—yammering on about how I was stuck without a title for my newest story. Apparently, I must’ve yammered for a long while, because eventually Marnie said something like, “Well, don’t get yer panties in a wad…tell me what the story is about and I’ll see if I can help you.” (She lives in Georgia—so be sure you say that quote with a thick southern accent. It’s more insightful and amusing that way.) So, I started yammering again—all about how the story revolved around this poor neglected rich girl and this gorgeous gardener who really wasn’t a gardener at all but a rich Lord guy who was only pretending to be a gardener and how his name was Knight and he was kind of a rogue because he was rebelling against his responsibilities and also such a gorgeous, flirtatious man and I wanted to use his name in the title because it was such a cool name, etc. etc. After she’d endured the entirety of my yammering, Marnie simply said, “Well, why don’t you just call it The Rogue Knight?” Well, duh!!! Sometimes I way, way over-think things. And many times Marnie just remains calm and hands a body a simple suggestion that’s right on the money. Seriously—I’m still thinking, “Duh, Marcia!” about that one.
Snippet #5—Something else I can attest to is this: The Rogue Knight is very hard to read aloud! There are soooooooooo many L’s! AND the word ‘effortlessly’—say that ten times fast! Effortlessly, effortlessly, efforlestly, efferlesslie! See what I mean?
Snippet #6—I will now confess this: The scene in the greenhouse where Knight so vigorously kisses Fontaine—do you know the one I mean? Well—it’s my favorite scene in the whole book! Many times people will ask me, “What’s your favorite part in this book or that book,” and nothing will pop right into my mind. I usually have to think about it. But not with The Rogue Knight! Nope! In The Rogue Knight, it’s that greenhouse scene—hands down!
In the end, these little trivia snippets aren’t much—but I hope they were somewhat fun for you to read. The Rogue Knight has been an e-book for five years. It has been an on-line free download for more than two years. And I am so very, very happy to finally see it in print, too!
Thanks for sharing another romantic adventure with me!
~Marcia Lynn McClure
To my husband…
My Hero Inspiration!
About the Author
Marcia Lynn McClure began writing novels as Christmas gifts for her closest friends. She weaves her tales of love, life, laughter and adventure around those compelling, romantic moments which most appeal to a woman’s romantic and loving heart. Gazing out her window into the surreal beauty of the New Mexico desert, she writes her stories inspired by life and imagination. Blissful in the company of her wonderful husband, two sons, a daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, Marcia continues to captivate readers with her own, unique writing style and adored stories.
Visit www.marcialynnmcclure.com to order books and e-books by Marcia Lynn McClure.
Also by Marcia Lynn McClure
The Pirate Ruse
Romantic Vignettes
The Windswept Flame
Weathered Too Young
Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine
Saphyre Snow
A Crimson Frost
The Time of Aspen Falls
The Highwayman of Tanglewood
The Whispered Kiss
The Touch of Sage
The Fragrance of Her Name
Dusty Britches
Shackles of Honor
The Visions of Ransom Lake
The Heavenly Surrender
Daydreams
Divine Deception
An Old-Fashioned Romance
To Echo the Past
Desert Fire
Love Me
Born for Thorton’s Sake
Sudden Storms
The Prairie Prince
Take a Walk With Me
A Better Reason to Fall in Love
The Tide of the Mermaid Tears
Kiss in the Dark
The Light of the Lovers’ Moon
Sweet Cherry Ray
Kissing Cousins
The Pirate Ruse
Historical Romance, 296 Pages
Abducted! Forcibly taken from her home in New Orleans, Cristabel Albay found herself a prisoner aboard an enemy ship—and soon thereafter, transferred into the vile hands of blood-thirsty pirates! War waged between the newly liberated United States and King George. Still, Cristabel would soon discover that British sailors were the very least of her worries—for the pirate captain, Bully Booth, owned no loyalty—no sympathy for those he captured.
Yet hope was not entirely lost—for where there was found one crew of pirates—there was ever found another. Though Cristabel Albay would never have dreamed that she may find fortune in being captured by one pirate captain only to be taken by another—she did! Bully Booth took no man alive—let no woman live long. But the pirate Navarrone was known for his clemency. Thus, Cristabel’s hope in knowing her life’s continuance was restored.
Nonetheless, as Cristabel’s heart began to yearn for the affections of her handsome, beguiling captor—she wondered if Captain Navarrone had only saved her life to execute her poor heart!
Weathered Too Young
Historical Romance, 304 Pages
Lark Lawrence was alone. In all the world there was no one who cared for her. Still, there were worse things than independence—and Lark had grown quite capable of providing for herself. Nevertheless, as winter loomed, she suddenly found herself with no means by which to afford food and shelter—destitute.
Yet Tom Evans was a kind and compassionate man. When Lark Lawrence appeared on his porch, without pause he hired her to keep house and cook for himself and his cantankerous elder brother, Slater. And although Tom had befriend Lark first, it would be Slater Evans—handsome, brooding, and twelve years Lark’s senior—who would unknowingly abduct her heart.
Still, Lark’s true age (which she concealed at first meeting the Evans brothers) was not the only truth she had kept from Slater and Tom Evans. Darker secrets lay imprisoned deep within her heart—and her past. However, it is that secrets are made to be found out—and Lark’s secrets revealed would soon couple with the arrival of a woman from Slater’s past to forever shatter her dreams of winning his love—or so it seemed. Would truth and passion mingle to capture Lark the love she’d never dared to hope for?
The Windswept Flame
Historical Romance, 280 Pages
Broken—irreparably broken. The violent deaths of her father and the young man she’d been engaged to marry, had irrevocably broken Cedar Dale’s heart. Her mother’s heart had been broken, as well—shattered by the loss of her own true love. Thus, pain and anguish—fear and despair—found Cedar Dale, and her mother Flora, returned to the small western town where life had once been happy and filled with hope. Perhaps there, Cedar and her mother would find some resemblance of truly living life—instead of merely existing. And then, a chance meeting with a dream from her past—caused a flicker of wonder to ignite in her bosom.
As a child, Cedar Dale had adored the handsome rancher’s son, Tom Evans. And when chance brought her face-to-face with the object of her childhood fascination once more, Cedar Dale began to believe that perhaps her fragmented heart could be healed.
Yet, could Cedar truly hope to win the regard of such a man above men as was Tom Evans? A man kept occupied with hard work and ambition—a man so desperately sought after by seemingly every woman?
Beneat
h the Honeysuckle Vine
Historical Romance, 304 Pages
Civil War—no one could flee from the nightmare of battle and the countless lives it devoured. Everyone had sacrificed—suffered profound misery and unimaginable loss. Vivianna Bartholomew was no exception. The war had torn her from her home—orphaned her. The merciless war seemed to take everything—even the man she loved. Still, Vivianna yet knew gratitude—for a kind friend had taken her in upon the death of her parents. Thus, she was cared for—even loved.
Yet as General Lee surrendered, signaling the war’s imminent end—as Vivianna remained with the remnants of the Turner family—her soul clung to the letters written by her lost soldier—to his memory written in her heart. Could a woman ever heal from the loss of such a love? Could a woman’s heart forget that it may find another? Vivianna Bartholomew thought not.
Still, it is often in the world that miracles occur—that love endures even after hope has been abandoned. Thus, one balmy Alabama morning—as two ragged soldiers wound the road toward the Turner house—Vivianna began to know—to know that miracles do exist—that love is never truly lost.
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