Forbidden Warrior

by Kris Kennedy

  “’Tis a long tale,” Máel said, hoping to delay the retelling of certain aspects of the story.

  But Cassia was not to be delayed. “Oh yes.” She sighed. “A tale worthy of a song. Moonlit rides and Fury horses, rivers and sword fights and jousts, and—”

  “Jousts?” Rowan and Fáelán repeated the word in shocked unison.

  Máel drew in a resigned breath. He hadn’t supposed he could keep it from them forever. “Aye,” he said shortly.

  Rowan straightened. “You? Fought in a joust?”

  “Aye.”

  Fáe and Rowan looked at each other, then burst into riotous laughter. They almost fell over one another in their merriment.

  Cassia turned to him with a small, hesitant smile. “They do not believe it.”

  “Oh, aye, they believe it,” Máel said grimly. “Witness their belief.”

  Her smile deepened, but when Fáe and Rowan subsided somewhat, she said simply, “He was magnificent.”

  The love in her words calmed their hilarity. Retaining their grins, they nodded respectfully to her.

  “I am sure he was, lady,” Fáe said. “When Máel wants something, he cannot be stopped. When he believes in something, he cannot be beaten. He has simply never believed in anything before. But now,” he glanced at Máel, “I think he believes in you.”

  Máel met Fáe’s eyes. His chest felt full.

  Fáe was more than blood-brother. He was father figure, mission-finder, and life-saver. An exiled Irish nobleman who had built their brotherhood with nothing but sheer will. Stole them a boat when they were chased from Ireland. Dragged them ashore when they would have drowned. Built a fire in a cave and saved their lives. Gave them a mission: make the English suffer.

  Fáe had lost the most out of all of them, and he had just seen Máel—seen his happiness—and approved.

  This is the sort of time certain folk might embrace.

  Fáe dipped his head to the side, smiling knowingly. Then from behind, a little push came on his back. Cassia, whispering, “Go.”

  Head down, he stepped forward and they embraced, a single, hard, rather extended grip. He turned to Rowan and did the same.

  Then they all backed up and cleared their throats.

  Cassia was beaming at them. He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer.

  Fáe and Rowan exchanged glances, then Fáe pushed off the tree. “Well, seeing as we’re not needed, we’ll be off. Are you coming back with us?”

  Máel grabbed the reins of their horses and they all began walking together across the green grass a a red sunset spilled along the horizon like wine tipped out of a goblet.

  “Aye, I think so, for a bit. But then we’re off.”

  Fáe nodded. “You’re going back to Ireland, aren’t you?”

  He kept walking as he said it, but Rowan stopped short in amazement.

  “Ireland?” he repeated, his brow furrowed with…was that pain? The youngest, the closest to his emotions, Rowan had always been the beating heart of their brotherhood.

  Máel grasped his arm. “I need to make a home. With Cassia. And I cannot do that in England.”

  Rowan stared, his jaw tight, then nodded. “Aye. It’s for the best.”

  “’Tis,” Fáe agreed, looking away into the middle distance. One of Fáe’s favorite places to inhabit. Neither here nor there, a place where he could hover forever, never touching anything. Or anyone.

  Máel knew the state well. It was a cold place. Thank God Cassia had melted her way through and found him, with fire and spirit and a bit of battle.

  Fáelán would find his fire too. Or he would die alone.

  “Good,” Fáe said, bringing his gaze down. He smiled at Cassia. “You will be fine.”

  “You must find Tadhg over in Ireland,” Rowan insisted.

  “Aye. I’ll hunt him down.”

  “Whatever you need, he will see it done. His last words to us were that he owes you. He is indebted.”

  “Good. I’ll collect.”

  Rowan nodded firmly. “Make the bastard pay.”

  They all grinned and started walking again. Máel said, “With me gone, that’ll leave just the two of you in the lair.”

  Fáelán shrugged a little and glanced at Rowan. “Máel was shite at conversation anyhow, wasn’t he?”

  “Most shite,” Rowan agreed. “Good riddance, I say.”

  Their ambling stroll had brought them closer to the main bailey gates. People were climbing the stairs to the castle within, hurrying to the festivities, trailing silk and samite and flashing with gems.

  He looked down swiftly to catch any wistfulness that might linger in Cassia’s eyes. Any misgiving or regret….

  She was peering at Rowan and Fáe with what could only be described as rapture. Her eyebrows were up, her mouth rounded, her cheeks flushed.

  She turned to him. “A lair?” she whispered excitedly.

  He caught her hand in his and kissed it, then pulled her the rest of the way to him.

  “We’ll be on ahead,” Rowan called as he and Fáe kept walking. Because Fáe would never stop, and Rowan was always at his side.

  He wrapped an arm around her back.

  “They are good brothers,” she said earnestly.

  “They are bastards,” he replied, and kissed her.

  Her lips on his, she said, “I cannot wait to see your lair.”

  “I cannot wait to show you my home.”

  “Show me everything,” she whispered. “I am ready for every adventure.”

  “We’ll start tonight,” he promised, and watched her eyes fill with happy tears as he kissed her.

  They were not ruined. Nothing was over.

  Everything that mattered was just beginning.

  Dear Historical Romance Lover,

  * * *

  I hope you loved Máel and Cassia’s adventure in Forbidden Warrior. I wanted it to be a fun, emotional, sexy forest romp, with tourneys and jousting to cap off the medieval-ness.

  * * *

  As I wrote, I saw so many of the scenes—especially the interactions between Máel & Cassia—unfolding as they might in a movie. I hope it was that real (or cinematic) and immersive for you as well.

  * * *

  I’ve got more stories waiting for you!

  * * *

  You can read all about Máel’s blood-brothers in the rest of the RENEGADE LORDS series. Start with Tadhg’s story, in King’s Warrior. I’m working on new books in the series as we speak, and if you sign up for the newsletter, you’ll get all the updates & release info.

  NEWSLETTER SIGN UP

  * * *

  Be sure to check out my ROGUE WARRIORS collection too. I think you’ll love them. Set in different medieval eras, each one of these epic romantic adventures tells the tale of a warrior gone rogue.

  * * *

  I’ve got a little excerpt from one of them below!

  * * *

  But first…

  * * *

  Be sure to get the next book in the Midsummer Knights multi-author Tournament World.

  * * *

  Check out Madeline Martin’s The Highlander’s Lady Knight.

  * * *

  THE HIGHLANDER’S LADY KNIGHT

  She wants to save her honor, he wants to save his people - can their love do both?

  * * *

  Read on to find out more!

  Next Book In Midsummer Knights

  THE HIGHLANDER’S LADY KNIGHT

  By Madeline Martin

  She wants to save her honor, he wants to save his people - can their love do both?

  * * *

  She wants to save her honor

  Lady Isolde Maxwell‘s brother is more inclined to marry her off rather than defend her honor, leaving her to take matters into her own gauntlets.

  * * *

  After stealing his armor, she heads to the Rose Citadel tournament to fight for her freedom from a man she never agreed to wed. Yet, even as Isolde is trying to escape one man, another
has set his sights on her, one who is determined to catch her attention and one she cannot help but crave.

  * * *

  He wants to save his people

  When yet another failed harvest threatens the welfare of his clan, Cormac Sutherland, Chieftain of the Sutherland clan needs a solution to save his people. When his twin brother proposes they attend a tournament in England and steal the betrothed noblewomen from men of their rival clan, Cormac is skeptical, especially given his lacking skills at wooing.

  * * *

  However, once he gets to know Lady Isolde, he finds she not only earns his respect, but also stokes his passion.

  * * *

  Can their love do both?

  When intrigue and betrayal come into play and a challenge threatens one’s greatest love, can Cormac and Isolde survive the tournament with their hearts and lives intact?

  * * *

  GET IT NOW!

  * * *

  There are seven stories in the Midsummer Knights tournament world.

  * * *

  You’re going to want them all!

  * * *

  Book links at our website: https://midsummerknights.com/

  * * *

  BOOKS IN THE COLLECTION:

  Forbidden Warrior, by Kris Kennedy

  The Highlander’s Lady Knight, by Madeline Martin

  The Highlander’s Dare, by Eliza Knight

  The Highland Knight’s Revenge, by Lori Ann Bailey

  My Victorious Knight, by Laurel O’Donnell

  An Outlaw’s Honor, by Terri Brisbin

  Never If Not Now, by Madeline Hunter

  Excerpt: Defiant

  DEFIANT

  * * *

  Jamie Lost is King John’s most feared lieutenant, sent to kidnap an enemy troublemaker before rebel forces close in.

  * * *

  After a lifetime of brutal hardship, Jamie is the perfect knight for the job: cold as ice and ruthlessly determined.

  * * *

  The mission is simple. There’s only one thing standing in his way.

  * * *

  Eva.

  EXCERPT:

  DEFIANT ©

  England, 1215

  …Jamie released her when they were through the stable doors, into the dusty warmth. Eva backed away, resisting the urge to rub her wrists, for she would not have been rubbing away pain, as he had not hurt her. She would have been…touching where he had touched.

  Morning light rayed in through slats between the boards. Horses and hay were illuminated by very thin strips of bright light, so they glowed golden and brown and chestnut red. The horses shifted in their stalls, turning to peer at them with liquid eyes, furry ears pricked.

  Jamie and his companion lead their horses out, still saddled. Clearly, they had anticipated a short stop. Perhaps she should be insulted by this.

  Eva’s horse was standing down the row further, a dim brown shape, her head half down, eyes lazily closed, a single spray of golden hay poking out from between her velvety muzzle lips.

  Jamie patted his horse in a distracted way and tossed the reins up. He grabbed hold of a stirrup and looked at her. “Up.”

  She blinked. “I, I—”

  “Are getting on.” Then he paused and glanced down the row, the very direction her surreptitious little glance had gone. They both looked at the sleepy brown mare. “Yours?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, suddenly unable to determine the need for a lie.

  Revealing she had a horse would betray nothing of her purposes. Jamie could easily assume she had a horse. She’d never have made it this far without. She could claim every horse in the stable and Jamie would know nothing more than he did right now.

  And yet, notwithstanding all these sensible notions, Eva felt engulfed like a wick by the bright, burning knowledge that the more Jamie knew of her, the more her life would become…irrevocable.

  Eva lived for revocability. Decisions were nothing but footprints in the sand; everything could be washed away. At need, Eva revoked opinions, plans, pennies, entire personal histories.

  But Jamie, Jamie was more the edge of the cliff than the shifting sand. No going back.

  A thin scar carved through the corner of his lip and up over one high cheekbone, but did not detract from a whit of the beautiful masculinity of him. Hands, blades, wits: everything Jamie bore was a weapon, and a blind man would see he was a thing to avoid. And right now he was watching her, his eyes never leaving hers throughout the lengthening silence.

  Never had she been unable to lie. Never had she so much as paused in the deed. Lie, always. Run forever.

  Do it, the faint call came up from inside. Lie.

  “Yes,” she heard herself say. “She is mine.”

  Well.

  Jamie jabbed his chin into the air. “Ry,” he said to his companion, “bring her out, will you?”

  Ry strode over, and while he was being so obedient and bringing her mare out, Jamie tied her up.

  Standing a head taller and an inch away, his dark head bent to attend the ropes, she had a strange, disorienting moment of imagining him doing something helpful as he stood before her, perhaps untangling a pouch, or showing her some trinket in secret, tucked between their bodies. She watched his thick fingers tug on the ropes and the dizzy sense expanded, down from her very ridiculous head into her even more ridiculous body.

  “These ropes, they are hardly necessary,” she announced.

  “Consider me cautious.”

  “Other words come to mind, not so greatly ‘cautious.’”

  He tipped his head up. He had very long eyelashes. This was not right. “Such as?”

  She sighed. “You seek compliments at such a time? About your eyelashes, no doubt.”

  His stared at her, then the small, dented curves beside his mouth deepened ever so slightly. He bent back to his tying. “Ropes make it more difficult to escape.”

  “But who is to say I wish to escape?”

  “Fleeing and kicking me brought the notion to mind.”

  She made a dismissive sound. She truly had no desire to escape, not anymore. Further reflection—the sort that came while being hauled down stairs—had shown her the truth of her straits: she had no hope of regaining Father Peter alone.

  But Jamie did.

  If one had to be in captivity, it was undeniably better to be captivated by one who had the power and inclination to take down every shared enemy in your path. Then, come time, you could simply steal away.

  With the priest.

  She gave another sigh. “But you are so daunting with your weapons and your glowering looks, what can I do but succumb?”

  He gave a low laugh. “Once, you might have been able to make me believe that, Eva. Then I spent the night shackled in a cellar under the town walls.”

  “It must have been quite cold and damp,” she reflected.

  He flipped an end of the rope overtop and gave a sharp tug. “Quite. I was kept warm by imagining just this.”

  She sniffed and peered patiently over his head, for regarding his bent head, the strands of dark hair falling by his hair-roughened jaw, did not help maintain the proper sense of outrage and loathing one wanted at such a time.

  “These ropes, Jamie, I am sorry to say, they make you appear . . . afraid.”

  He gave a final tug and yanked her so close their chests touched.

  “You have been sorry to say a great many things in the short time I’ve known you, Eva, and not one of them has been true.” His softly-spoken words dropped into the hot pocket of air between their mouths. “’Tis you who should be afraid, for if you do not talk soon, I shall make you.” He bent to her ear. “It will not take long.”

  Fear had nothing on the chills his words sent cascading through Eva’s body. Which meant…this was not fear.

  Oh, indeed, Jamie was peril of a most grave sort. The edge of the cliff, the tide coming in.

  He put his hands on her hips and vaulted her into the saddle, then lashed her ho
rse to his and led her out of the stable….

  ***

  I’m sure that will go well…. Or will it???

  Find out.

  GET DEFIANT NOW!

  Author’s Notes: Forbidden Warrior

  I always include some tidbits of the research I did for my stories, to give you a sense of the real-world times & to please other history nerds out there.

  * * *

  I keep these ones somewhat short, but if you want more, stop by the website for extended Author’s Notes on all the stories!

  * * *

  Enjoy these peeks into the 12th century world of Forbidden Warrior!

  MORALLTACH

  Moralltach is indeed a sword from Irish mythology.

  * * *

  Meaning ‘Great Fury,’ it was exactly as Máel described it: a highly lethal sword “which left no stroke or blow unfinished at the first trial.”