Mellie's Books

EXCERPTS BY SERIES

ESPERANCE

jareth, First Lord

Arthur Conright rested quietly as the tall, dark, and furious First Lord of Clan Brannach stormed to and fro behind the desk. Angry glances at the falling snow punctuated Lord Jareth’s pacing. Arthur, legal counsel to the House of Brannach, was a contemporary of Jareth’s father and had stayed on when Jareth inherited the title. As he waited for Jareth to get down to business, the slight, silver-haired gentleman enjoyed the comfortably worn leather chair, absentmindedly stroking his moustache.

With his brow furrowed in frustration and anger, Jareth wheeled to face him and demanded, “It is enough to endure what nature throws at us. Must I deal with robbery as well?”

“Has there been no word, Lord Jareth?” Arthur asked him. “Maybe the weather…”

“Damn the weather and damn the storms! My men made it to Belfort and back three times,” Jareth said. “He could have asked me for help if it was needed. Now he ignores my demands. Despite the weather, he could communicate mind to mind if necessary.”

“Yes, Lord Jareth. Couldn’t you use your Talents to reach Lord Herrick?” Arthur ventured.

“No. As he stands accused, it is for him to open that door. Since he hasn’t, it’s time I made a trip.”

“I searched the records as you asked, and you have issued three warnings. The legal protocol has been observed and you are within your rights to demand full restitution and penalties, including The Choosing. Anything less would be seen as weakness.”

“Very well, Arthur. Have the paperwork ready for me this evening. We’ll leave at first light.”

Over six feet tall with the upbringing of a Warrior Lord behind him, Jareth knew he was an imposing figure. The men he chose to accompany him from the elite guard were physically his equal. Highly trained warriors, each also possessed advanced mental abilities, called wild Talents, which proved useful both during battle and in guarding their First Lord. Their bearing was confident and dangerous, giving him the force of presence he would need for their journey.

Leaving instructions with the officer in charge, Jareth and his ten man honor guard rode to the east, their cloaks unfurled in the wind as they disappeared like dark specters into the fog and falling snow. After four days of hard riding, tired, cold and irritable, they reined into a small village a few miles out of Clan Belfort’s center. According to Jareth’s reckoning, they should be at the Belfort Manor by midmorning the next day.

Crossing the square, he reined to a stop as he felt an odd mental tickle, like a spider crawling across his brain. Using his own psychic abilities he searched the square for the source, but could find nothing definite. It seemed to come from a little shop diagonally across the square.

“Damion, do you sense anything unusual?” he asked one of his men, as he searched in that direction.

“No, First Lord. Why?”

“Just for a moment I thought I sensed an active Talent, but it’s gone now. I’m probably just tired. Don’t worry about it.” Proceeding across the square, they left the village and made camp for the evening out on the common ground as the sun set behind them.

Viviane, First Lady

Viviane was still trying to get her mind around the idea of a special talent affiliated with the ruling families, let alone finding she had this ability. She remembered some of Jareth’s men talking about it with her, but she had put it off to a myth. They had assured her, when she and Jareth had danced the Suitor’s Dance in the fall, they could sense the mental battle between the two of them. Jareth compelled her to finish the sets and she resisted his influence.

“Annie,” she asked as her companion entered the room. “You’ve been around talented people for a long time. What does it feel like when talent is used around you? Do you feel anything at all if you aren’t talented?”

“What does it feel like?” Annie asked her. “Well, most people never feel it, unless for some reason it’s directed strongly right at them. Even then, most don’t know what it is.”

“Have you ever felt it, Annie?”

Annie chuckled and then answered her. “Aye, that I have. I’ve worked here in the house for the better portion of my life. What with Jareth growing up here and learning to control his talent, and having his father using it when it was needed, aye, I’ve known the talent. And when Lord Jareth and his father, Lord Phillip, would get into it, the whole staff would have a headache!”

“Jareth and his father used to argue?” Viviane asked, hoping for a little insight into the family.

“Argue? It sometimes fell just short of a full-fledged brawl around here. Your Jareth was quite a terror when he was a boy. How Lady Anne managed to deal with him, I’ll never know.”

“You said they sometimes gave the staff a headache. Was it from using the talent?” Viviane asked.

“Not just from using it, more like letting it use them. Normally when the talent is used around you, you feel a little bit of pressure in your head, if you feel anything at all. But when the two of them would get at it and let their control slip, boy oh boy, yes! Those of us who were more sensitive to it would get headaches for hours after.”

“So, some people are more sensitive than others?”

“Oh sure, like anything else, really. And the more you’re around it, the more you can sense it.”

Viviane thought for a moment. “Have you ever felt me use the talent, Annie?”

There was her chuckle again. “Just about any time you get upset. Elated, depressed, angry, times like those. It’s tied to your emotions. Why all the questions?”

“Jareth and my father are apparently worried about me being a wild talent and what this means when our children are born. They feel our children will have extremely strong talents, and since I seem to have it, too, I should be trained.”

“That makes sense to me, but since you grew up in one of the houses, weren’t you aware of the gift?” Annie asked her.

“I guess I learned to block it out early on. And when the abilities should have faded away, I hid them instead, not knowing I had any to start with. Jareth said they became automatic and very subtle.”

“Ah!” Annie remarked, obviously having had a revelation of some sort. “If you automatically block the influence, you don’t know when it’s being used around you. I’d say you will need to know at least that much when the wee ones arrive. Untalented children can be enough trouble when they throw tantrums. Talented children? There will be headaches all around!”

MORGAN–The Pixie and the Green Man (Book 3 from Esperance)

James was stunned. He’d thought Morgan was beginning to like him, get closer to him. They’d had such a grand day when they went for a walk. She’d laughed, and talked, and seemed so lighthearted, how could she be saying goodbye today?

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Have I offended you in some way, or hurt your feelings? What have I done?”

“Oh, James. You’ve done nothing. It’s not something you’ve done. I can’t go on giving you the hope of a relationship that can never be.”

“Why can’t it?”

“Because before too long, you’ll either decide it’s time I gave you something in return, or I will have fallen for you and you’ll decide to drop the gentleman act and ruin it all.”

“Act? What act? I’m James Ferguson. I am who I am. I don’t put on an act for anyone, not even the First Lord. And I’ve told you before, all I expect from you is good company and conversation.”

“But for how long?”

“Morgan,” he said, “I don’t care if I buy a thousand lunches, a hundred dinners, and scores of trinkets for you. They will not buy the right to take you into my bed. The only way I would have that right is if you agreed to be my wife. Even then, I would need your consent before I exercised that right. It is your body and you make the final decision.”

“If only that were so, James,” Morgan said. “But I’ve seen it happen too many times. Let’s say goodbye while we’re still happy, before it all turns bitter and angry.”

“Weren’t we having fun together?” he asked.

“Yes, which is why I’m ending it now. I want to remember happy times with you, not ugly ones.”

“I don’t understand, Morgan, but if that is your decision, I will go. You seem to have a firm idea of what men want from you, so let me explain my thoughts on the matter.”

“All right. Go ahead.”

“Let’s get right to it. Do I want to kiss you? Oh, yes. Very much. You’ve such a pretty mouth and it looks delicious. It begs to be tasted and enjoyed.

“Do I want to hold you close to me and feel all your warm softness against my skin?

You bet I do. And to smell your jasmine scented hair as I hold you in my arms.”

“James, stop! You’re being mean.”

“I’m being truthful. And do I want to take you to my bed, feel you beneath me as we make sweet love until morning? God, yes! I want to see how much pleasure I can give you, over and over again.”

“James, enough. You can’t be saying this. Not you.”

“Do I want those things, Morgan? Hell, yes. Do I have the right to them. No, I do not The only way I would have those rights is if I found the courage to ask you to be my wife, and if you agreed.

“I may want them, but I can’t have them. They are not mine to take without your consent. A few meals here and there do not equal a marriage contract.”

“James, I don’t know what to say,” Morgan told him. “And if I’d known how you felt, I would never have gone out with you in the first place.”

“Why? Because I find you desirable? What man wouldn’t? I may be a gentleman, but I am a man. I won’t apologize for it. And when I marry someone, she will be a woman who appreciates the fact.”

“Like I said, men only ever want one thing. At least you finally admitted it.”

“Wanting something and expecting it are two different things, Morgan. I told you I would never harm you, and I won’t. A few days ago, you asked me if I had kissed you. I guarantee, if I had you wouldn’t have to ask.

“So before I go, may I kiss you goodbye?”

Morgan stared up at him for the longest time, as if frozen in place.

“Why not? Our first and last kiss.”

James reached out to her and drew her close. One hand swept up her back and into her hair, as he turned her face up toward his. Slowly and deliberately, he pressed his lips to hers, gently at first, before becoming insistent. When her lips parted in invitation, he slowly pulled away from her.

“Goodbye, Morgan love. If you need anything, the Fergusons are always ready to help.”

GAMBLER’S FOLLY SERIES

Gambler’s Folly –Book 1

Karianna brushed her dark brown hair as she tried to decide what to do. She was angry, green eyes snapping at her reflection in the mirror. She had been promised a vacation, someplace exotic, two weeks just for the two of them. Hoping for a nice, romantic getaway, in her heart of hearts she knew she would be disappointed.

With one last shred of hope, she’d agreed to a vacation and they’d wound up here, the gambling center of the star system. Of course it was paradise for Trae. He lived to gamble. He would bet on anything and usually lost. Heaven only knew what he would lose this go-around.

She’d dreamed, like all girls, of someone strong, handsome, and mysterious. Someone who took your breath away. And like most of the women she knew, she’d eventually realized she would never meet Prince Charming and settled for what was she could find—Trae. At least she was married, and that’s what counted, right?

Alright, Trae wasn’t breathtakingly handsome, but he wasn’t bad. There was no mystery or romance. Their sex life was nearly nonexistent anymore. She was frustrated at every turn. Why couldn’t she have met a real man’s man and been swept off her feet? Or at least have met someone who cared for her more than he did a deck of cards.

Attacking her hair with the brush, hot tears filling her eyes, her disappointment was overwhelming. Why had she believed his lies once again? She had spent all but their first day here alone, and there was over a week left before returning home. Today, she’d gone swimming, and then taken a trip to the spa to get her nails done. What the hell? He was losing it all anyway, so she had a pedicure to go with it. Lunch was dismal as she sat alone, picking over the elegant meal included in the vacation package.

Later in the afternoon, she’d taken a nap and awakened with the uneasy feeling that something was very wrong. Trae wasn’t back yet and it was past time for dinner. Where was he? She slammed the brush down on the dressing table and dried her eyes, as anger overcame disappointment.

Wondering what to do, she heard the sound of his key card in the lock. “Where in the hell…” she began as Trae entered the room, followed by two well-built men in expensively tailored suits. “Trae, what’s going on? Who are these guys?”

“Hi, sweetheart. These men are associates of Mr. Leone. They’ve come to take you to him.”

“Take me to—Mr. Leone? The biggest mob boss on the planet?”

“Um, yeah. I kind of lost a bet. Sorry.”

“You lost a bet? What kind of bet? What have you done, Trae O’Brien?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the house anymore, or the car, or really anything. I lost all of it. Then, in order to get out from under that and a M1,000,000 debt, he insisted I put you on the table, as it were. Win or lose, one hand, and all my debts were gone. Just if I lost, he got you. And I lost. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry?! You’re more than sorry, Trae. What the hell?” she shouted, as one of the impeccably dressed men took her arm.

“Come along, Mrs. O’Brien. Mr. Leone is waiting.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Get your hands off me!”

As she struggled with one man, the other one found her purse, and checked for her passport and papers. Speaking into what must have been a wrist communicator, man number two said, “We have the lady. Mr. O’Brien will be right down to sign the papers.”

“Papers? What papers, Trae?”

The older of the two men smiled and said, “The ones signing away his rights to you, love. Come along.”

“Trae? Trae!”

Downstairs, watching her husband sign away his debts, Karianna was numb. How could this even be legal? Did it matter when you were dealing with the mob?

Pushing the signed papers across the table, Trae said, “Well, that’s that I guess. You’re sure we’re good?”

“Mr. Leone was very clear about it. One hand, win or lose, all debts forgiven.”

“What about me?” Kari asked, in shock. “What am I supposed to do?”

The man in the shadows was quiet for a moment, and then said, “Go ahead and take her downstairs, to one of the special guest rooms. Mr. Leone will see her there and decide what to do with her.”

DANTE’S ANGE L –Book 2

She let her mind drift along as she walked, enchanted by the ancient olive trees. As a child, she had loved to come out here anad climb around on the branches, earning her a scolding from everyone in the family. It was such a magical place, though, and up in the trees she could be anyone or anything she could imagine.

Reaching up to one of the smaller branches, she grabbed hold and swung around the corner, from one path to the next, and she collided with the arrogant prick who was the reason for her walk.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“I should be the one to ask that question. I am only walking, not swinging from the trees like a lunatic.”

Lunatic? Had he called her a lunatic?

“What did you call me?”

“A lunatic, if you memory needs refreshing. I hadn’t realized the grove was such a dangerous place. It seemed such a quiet place to walk and reflect. If I’d understood the dangers, i would have gone out to play in the street.”

“You are the rudest person it has ever been my displeasure to meet,” she answered hotly.

****

“You’re welcome,” Dante said, with a hint of sarcasm. “Such a pretty mouth. Does it taste as bitter as the words that come out of it?”

What was going on with his mouth this evening? Every time it opened it dug him in deeper. With her hands on her hips, she glared at him, mouth gaping open and trying to find something to say. All right. He was dead. He should  do them all a favor and shoot himself.

“I hope you had no thought of finding out,” she finally said. “You can’t possibly believe I’d let you kiss me.”

His eyes swept from her toes to the top of her head before he looked her in the eye again. He was surprised to see her cheeks flush. Thinking about kissing her sweet little mouth brought a smile to his face.

“I love a challenge. I was going to walk for a while longer. Which way are you going, so I can avoid your acrobatic displays?”

“You are a bastard, Dante Bonfiglio, and you definitely do not live up to the family name.”

“Depends on what makes you a good son of the family. For all you know, I could be the most upstanding of the lot.”

As she stood there stammering and stuttering for something to say, he reached over, looped her arm through his, and turned down the path. She was so startled she didn’t even object. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder when he stood up straight, as he’d been trying to do since talking with Paulo. And her scet was exotic, like honey, vanilla, and white musk, with hints of nicotiana flowers in the evening sun.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Taking a stroll through the olive grove, signorina.”

“Why are you dragging me with you?”

“Dragging you? Your arm is through mine. You can leave at any time. I’m not holding you.”

Yet, he thought. All those luscious curves would be delightful pressed against him, with his arms around her, holding her tight.

What was it about her? They argued over the stupidest things, but she drew him to her as if by magic. Was Damiano right? Was this gorgeous creature meant to be his mate?

THE RUSSIAN–Book 3

Dannielle was scared. While walking the same route she did every night, several gang members surrounded her in this dark part of town. She’d always been concerned coming this way, but she had no choice without walking three time farther to avoid it.

“What have we got here?” the obvious leader of the group sneered. “Aren’t you kind of little to be out on your own?”

She was small, scarcely over five feet tall. But she felt even smaller now, as they slowly closed in on her. She thought she’d seen someone in the shadows, but a second glance showed nothing. Pity.

When strong, warm hands came to rest on her shoulders, she assumed the worst. Her mouth went dry and her knees nearly folded. She knew she was dead.

“Disperse. The woman is none of your concern,” she heard behind her.

“Who the hell are you? And what do you think you can do? There are five of us and only one of you.”

“Go your way. The woman is none of your concern.”

A tense silence followed for a few seconds before the leader of the group laughed and spoke again.

“Sure, man. Sorry.”

The entire group turned and retreated up the street. As she watched them leave, the shakes began. Turning to thank her savior, her nose caught the scent of woodsy loam and spicy autumn leaves, overlaid with hints of dark musk and tobacco. For a moment her head spun as she caught her breath.

“Are you all right?” the deep voice asked. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. Just scared,” she answered as she looked up into eyes as cold and blue as ice on a wintry lake. Eyes which seemed to pierce her soul held her captive.

“Where were you going?” he asked.

“I’m on my way home. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“It’s part of my job—rescuing maidens in distress. I’ll walk with you and make sure you arrive safely.”

The smile was warm, though it didn’t melt the ice in those eyes.

“What did you do? He was right, you know. There were five of them.”

“Some questions it is better not to ask,” he answered.

They walked quietly toward her small apartment, her arm through his. Honestly, she doubted she could have made it on her own. Her knees still shook and her legs felt like rubber.

At her door he asked, “Will you be all right? Is there someone you can call?”

“No. There is no one. Thank you for your help and your time. I’m sure you had better things to do.”

His eyes held hers and she had the sudden urge to kiss this man. He must have had similar thoughts, as he reached toward her and traced her face with one finger.

By mutual consent, they leaned together for the kiss she had to have. It should have been a quick parting kiss, but between his scent and his taste, she was lost. Apricots in brandy with a hint of cardamom lingered as they parted. The look in his eyes matched what she felt.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve taken liberties. I don’t know how that happened. I never do this.”

“Neither do I,” she replied. “I don’t even know your name.“

“I’m called Dmitri,” he said.

Her eyes focused on his mouth, wanting another kiss.

“I’m Dannielle. Danni to my friends.”

“Danni. I like it.”

“Are you going to be on Gambler’s Folly very long?” she asked.

“No. I’m here for work.”

“Can I see you again?” she asked this man who had just saved her from rape and possibly death.

“I doubt I will have the time. Let me see you go into your apartment before I leave.”

“Goodbye, Dmitri,”

“And to you, Danni, my little flower,” he answered with a sad smile.

****

If it hadn’t been for her scent, he would have been fine. Lilacs with honeyed-vanilla and white musk had wrapped around him softly. Hazel eyes under blonde curls had drawn him in. He’d thought, after all this time, he had control over his urges. What had possessed him to kiss her?

Her mouth now, there was a treat. Fresh raspberries and sweet white wine still teased his palette. Between her scent and her taste, he was one messed up wolf. He wanted to run through the forest, roll in the leaves, and howl to his pack mates about this delicious female he’d met.

No, he wouldn’t see her again. He didn’t need a relationship. Life around him was too uncertain. Besides, he’d had a mate long ago and, when she’d died, she’d taken his heart to her grave.

He was here for a job. He had no time for females.

MASTER OF THE FLEET  (from Sultonna Nadine)

If AnneMarie hadn’t begged and pleaded with him, Richard LeMarnier would never have made the exhausting trip from the Côte, which was high up on the northwestern coastline across the mountains to High Plains. But after several years away from home, she must return for the festival.

“Please, Richard,” the tall slim woman with dazzling green eyes had begged. “You must come with me. You must!”

And so he had. The bewitching beauty, with hair as black as a calm sea on a moonless night and eyes like perfect jade, was stunning. Dressed in crimson satin, every eye in the dining hall was on her.

The evening had started out well. White linens, gleaming silver,  and sparkling crystal goblets invited them in to tables heavily laden with the best in food and wines. He must be edgy from the trip and imagining slights from the woman he adored.

As the evening continued, it became clear he was being snubbed by the woman for whom he’d sacrificed so much. Her warm smile and come hither eyes sent an invitation to any man but him. She flirted with every man who came past, whether lord or serving boy. Yet Richard couldn’t attract her attention long enough to ask if she was enjoying the evening.

“AnneMarie,” he finally asked, in exasperation, “could you spare me some of your charm? You make me a laughing stock, after I brought you all this way for the festival.”

“Are you accusing me of some impropriety, Richard?” she asked in a haughty tone. “I haven’t accepted your offer. You can lay no claim on me.”

“I think you could pay me at least as much attention as you do the serving boys,” he snapped. “For them you have smiles and flirtatious glances. For me, you have nothing at all.”

He had seen her angry before, but nothing ever came of it. Perhaps it was being home which made the difference tonight. His eyes burned from the wine she threw in his face as her temper flared.

“I will not have any man dictate my actions,” she shouted, rising to her feet. “If I’d wanted a task master, I would have stayed under my father’s roof rather than cross half the continent to get away.”

The jewelled dagger flashed in her hand as she thrust it at him. A skilled swordsman, Richard easily parried the attempt as he rose to his feet. The dining area was too crowded to deal with the situation. Backing away from the table, he suggested,

“Anne-Marie, drop the dagger and sit down. You’re making a scene.”

She stalked after him, dagger in hand and in an absolute rage, as he retreated toward the dance floor. This was getting a bit sticky. With room to maneuver, Richard was ready when she lunged at him again. Grabbing her wrist with one hand, he slapped her with the other. As the dagger dropped, she tumbled to the floor and her glare was pure venom.

With the dagger tucked safely into his belt, Richard turned back toward the table. This should end the matter, and the relationship as well.

“I hate you,” Anne Marie screamed, as she snatched a sword from a nearby table.

Swinging wildly, she came at him with murder in her eyes. Lord Richard drew his blade.

While defending himself was not a problem, disarming her without harming anyone else might be. Anger rising, he waited for his opening. After the time and money he had spent on this trip, would she murder him in front of the high table?

His opening came and he threw her blade clear of the floor. With the point of his sword at her throat, Anne-Marie backed away, eyes wide, as anger became fear. Richard moved toward her, his blade never wavering  as she retreated. Finally shrinking against the high table, Anne-Marie’s retreat was blocked. Sidestepping, he grabbed her hair to expose her throat fully to his blade.

In a room as silent as a tomb, every eye was focused on the frozen tableau before the baron’s table.

“My good man, were you planning a human sacrifice on the high table? Who are you and what is the meaning of this?” the baron demanded.

A large man, with dark hair turning gray at the temples, and neatly trimmed beard, his presence commanded the attention of the room.

“Your Excellency, I am Lord Sir Richard LeMarnier, from Côte d’Or. The lady and I have travelled for more than a week to attend the festival here in her homeland. At least she claims it as such. After courting her for over a year and asking for her hand in marriage, I dance on her leash while she toys with my affections. Though she hasn’t refused my offer, she has yet to accept it.”

“What do you do?”

“I am in shipping, Your Excellency, with access to goods up and down the coast and from overseas. I have brought her gifts from every part of the world, given her everything she’s asked for, and more. She’s been blessed with everything within my power to give.”

“We’ll agree you’re a generous man. Why are you here?”

“She begged me to travel to your kingdom for the harvest festival this year. Besides transportation and chaperones, I paid for passage and accommodations across two kingdoms to please her.”

The Baron’s frown deepened. “What has that to do with all of this?” he demanded.

“This evening, Your Excellency, I asked if she could spare me some of the attention she’s lavished on every other man in the room, acknowledge me as her escort, and grace me with an occasional word or smile. Heaven knows her eyes have promised more to every other man she’s met this evening.”

Pausing in his explanation, he heard the murmured agreement of others around the room.

“In her anger, she tried to cut my heart out with a dagger. When I took it from her, she snatched a sword from some poor soul and tried to kill me.”

The baron took a moment to ponder the question, glancing at the drop of blood trembling at the tip of Richard’s sword.

“Is this true, woman?” he asked Anne-Marie.

Not answering for a moment, she eventually replied, very carefully, “Unfortunately, it is, Your Excellency.”

“Given the circumstances and from what I have seen tonight, I pass judgment. Your life is forfeit, woman. Have you anything to say?”

With her eyes on Richard, she answered, “If you expect me to beg for my life,  you will be disappointed. I will not. Look into your heart and do what you must. If you require my life, then take it. If you find mercy, I would be grateful, milord.”

The silence deepened, with everyone stunned at the scene playing out in front of the high table, while Richard pondered his options. Still holding her head with one hand, sword in the other, he forced her into the center of the floor.

Releasing her with a shov hhe commanded, “Kneel, Ann-Marie. Your life is forfeit. I see no reason to prolong this farce.”

Taking a stance, he raised the sword and swung it down in an arc which would separate head from body. Gasps and a few screams echoed in the room before, he stopped a scarce half-inch away from her neck. Stepping in front of Anne-Marie, he lifted her chin with the tip of his sword, and studied her face. Her eyes were wide with fear, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks before staining the bodice of her gown.

“I have spared your life, which was forfeit. It is now mine to command. Does anyone disagree?” he challenged.

There were murmurs all around, but no disagreement. The baron shrugged his shoulders and sat down, quaffing a large quantity of wine. Reversing his grip on the blade, Richard held it point down and perpendicular to the floor.

“Kiss the blade that spared your life and swear your loyalty to me.”

The hoarse whisper echoed to the farthest corners of the banquet hall. Trembling, Anne-Marie pressed her lips against the sword.

“On pain of death, I, Anne-Marie Desplaines, swear loyalty to Richard LeMarnier, until his death or until released from my vow. Repeat it to me,” he demanded.

As she did, the baron rose from his seat and cleared his throat.

“After the events of the evening, I will allow this to stand under one condition.”

“And what is the condition, Your Excellency?” Richard was careful to keep his tone

= respectful.

“An oath which will keep her safe and make you her protector,” the baron replied.

“Draw your dagger.”

Richard did as commanded, as the baron circled the table.

“Make a small cut on your hand and on the woman’s.”

“A blood oath, Your Excellency?”

“You question me?”

“No, Your Excellency.”

With the tip of the dagger, Richard made a nick in his hand, and its twin in Anne-Marie’s. Droplets of blood beaded up in their palms.

“Clasp hands,” the baron instructed them.

Over their joined hands, the baron traced arcane symbols in the air. Tingling magic swirled around their hands to bind the oath.

“By the mingling of your blood, do you, Anne-Marie, swear absolute loyalty and obedience to Lord Sir Richard LeMarnier, on pain of death, for as long as you shall live?”

She was crying and shaking so hard Richard wasn’t sure how she was still upright.

“I do so swear,” she replied through the tears.

“And Lord Sir Richard LeMarnier, do you swear to spare her life and guard her, as her sworn protector, for as long as she lives?”

“I do so swear.”

“You will remain together, blood-bound, for as long as the oath shall stand, neither one leaving the other, nor causing harm, one to the other. Breaking the conditions set forth will bring forth the penalty. The oath can be revoked before death by the skills of a baron only. Take heed.”

He motioned for someone to bring a moist towel so they could clean their hands.

Clearing his throat, Richard said, “If you will send someone for a priest, Your Excellency, Iwill take this woman as my wife tonight.”

His Grace looked startled and asked, “What priest will marry you under the

circumstances?”

“I think he would rather we be married than not,” Lord Richard replied. “I doubt if Anne-Marie will object. Priest or not, she will be mine this evening. Wife or whore, I care not which. Either way, she will please me well. Her life is mine to use as I see fit. If it matters to you, fetch a priest.”

“It’s your life. So be it.”