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To burn with passion...
to surrender to the power of a man's desire...Kathryn de St. Marie's years in a French convent have taught her such things are forbidden.
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The Perfect Seduction | Excerpt
This excerpt is from The Perfect Seduction, the second of the medieval Norman tales, connected to The Bride Hunt. Kathryn de St. Marie has been kidnapped from her father's castle, by a band of brutal Scots and rescued by some unsavory Saxon warriors, one of whom will prove to be her match.
Northern England, 1072 A.D.
Shaking uncontrollably, Kathryn somehow managed to crawl to the space under one of the wagons and draw her knees to her chest. Wrapping her arms 'round her legs, she quivered with cold and fright, and rocked back and forth as if the motion could shut out the brutal battle going on all 'round her.
She had as much to fear from these Saxon barbarians as the Scots who would have raped and killed her. In their rough woolens with their long hair, their axes and maces, they were as terrifying as the Scots.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Kathryn realized that all had finally become quiet. The battle was over, and the surviving Scots were running away.
Though the Saxons were victorious here, their mood was somber. One of them crouched before her, a seasoned warrior with an unruly mane of flaxen hair and a bushy beard. He stretched his hand out to her. "'Tis over, lass. Come out."
Kathryn did not trust him any more than she would a filthy Scotsman. She gave no indication that she understood his words as she considered how she could possibly get away.
"You are safe now," the Saxon said, his voice grave. "No further harm will come to you."
Kathryn took a shuddering breath and felt a tear run down her cheek. Absently, she brushed it away. If only Isabel were here - No! She would not wish this terrible predicament on her sister, but wished she had a few of Isabel's talents. Her sister would know what to do.
"You don't understand what I'm saying, do you?" the man remarked. He pointed to his chest. "Drogan," he said."I am Drogan of Braxton Fell. Come out."
What choice did she have? She could not stay under the wagon forever, nor could she run from these Saxons. She could only trust that this warrior, Sir Drogan, spoke truly. All seemed peaceful in the clearing now, as the Saxon warriors tended their wounds or dragged the dead Scots away. 'Twas quiet, too, with only the sound of the wind rushing through the dried leaves in the trees.
She took hold of Sir Drogan's hand, letting him ease her out from under the wagon. Her legs faltered, but Drogan supported her when she would have sunk down to the ground once again. He draped a thin woolen blanket over her shoulders to cover what remained of her clothes.
The fierce, dark-haired warrior who'd killed the Scottish chieftain approached Drogan, never allowing his icy blue gaze to rest upon her. He was tall, with shoulders broader than those of any man she'd seen in Normandy or England, and a comely face marred only by a narrow white scar that split the dark line of his brow. If the sight of his strong, masculine physique gave her pause, 'twas his rugged visage that caused her heart to trip. Even though he was unshaven, she could discern the strong line of his jaw, the corded sinews of his neck. His nose was thick and straight, his forehead creased with worry. Or mayhap 'twas anger.
"We'll carry my brother in the wagon." He gave a quick nod toward Kathryn, seemingly unwilling to show any particular interest or curiosity about her. A stubborn man. "Bring her," he said
"What's your plan?" Drogan asked.
"The woman will have some skill with needle and thread," said Edric. "She can sew Bryce's wound."
"But I-" Kathryn blurted out the English words before considering that, by speaking, she'd given away her understanding of their language.
Edric's hand shot out and encircled her throat, his eyes cold and full of anger. He clearly understood her attempt to deceive them, yet he did not hurt her. There was power in his grasp but he did not hold her too tightly.
She yanked away from him.
"Do you refuse, woman?"
"No, I do not." But she felt shaken by the wrath in his tone, and even more so by his touch. He gave her a look of contempt before striding from her presence.
How barbaric! "Just because I am female does not mean I can sew a man!" On the contrary, she was not a very good seamstress at all, and was quite squeamish, besides.
"We'd better go, lass. When Lord Edric sets his mind to something, 'tis not likely to change."
Kathryn took a deep breath and followed Sir Drogan to the spot where Edric knelt beside his brother. The wounded man lay insensible, his mangled hauberk lying open to reveal a growing bloodstain just under his arm. His face might have been as comely as his brother's, but it was deathly pale. Even his lips were devoid of color.
"Jesu," Drogan muttered.
One of the men placed a leather satchel beside Edric, who opened it and removed the contents. There were rolls of clean cloth and a piece of leather with two sturdy needles pierced through it. "Where is the thread?" Edric grumbled. His voice betrayed the worry and concern he felt for his brother, and as he searched through the bag, Kathryn watched the play of muscles in his arms and the frown of concentration upon his brow.
Drogan knelt beside Edric's brother and pushed the cloth of his tunic away from the wound. The sight of the gash made Kathryn's legs feel as mushy as gruel and she slid to the ground beside Drogan. "I don't think I ."
Her mouth went dry and her fingers felt like icicles. She wiped her hands on the tops of her legs and looked up. The Saxon could not possibly insist that she sew his brother's wound.
He paid her no heed as he riffled through the contents of the satchel, finally pulling out a bundle of coarse thread. He tossed it, along with the needles, to her.
"See that you make the edges match."
Kathryn swallowed her indignation at the orders given by this uncouth Saxon. No one spoke to her thus. She was a baron's daughter . though the less he knew of that, the better. She did not want to be offered back to her family, insulted and dishonored, mayhap in exchange for a ransom. There was a very good chance her family would not pay it anyway, not for a daughter who'd been violated by Scottish raiders.
She took a deep breath. "Surely there is someone else who knows what to do. I have never ."
"'Tis Graeme who usually does the mending for us," said Drogan.
"Graeme will be doing no mending tonight." Edric made a quick gesture toward a nearby warrior who'd bound his own hand in a bloody rag. "And since you were the cause of Bryce's distraction, you will be the one who makes repairs."
Kathryn bristled at his arrogant tone, but Drogan drew her attention back to Bryce before she could make the impudent remark that was on the tip of her tongue. "Look, lass. His wound is not as bad as it might be. 'Tis only a deep cut through the lad's thick muscle."
Kathryn shuddered and risked another glance at the wound in the young man's side. She considered refusing, but did not want to risk the Saxon lord's ire. Picking up the needle, she wondered how she could possibly do what Lord Edric demanded. Luckily, Sir Drogan took a clean cloth and blotted blood from the gash. "Start here, lass," he said. "Bryce won't feel it at all."
Kathryn doubted that, but she did not dare hesitate, not with the surly Saxon lord hovering so close, his demeanor so threatening. Besides, he was right. Bryce's wound was her fault, as was Geoffroi's fate. Would her culpability never end? She threaded the needle and leaned close to the Saxon's brother. Sir Drogan took the cloth away and held the wound together as Kathryn made the first pass with the needle.
She could do this. All she needed was to turn her thoughts elsewhere. She could think of one of her sister's many tales as she worked - stories of valiant heroes and their beautiful ladies.
Yet every hero that came to mind had the face of Edric the Saxon as he pulled the filthy Scot off her and fought him to the death.
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Readers Talk
The lead couple and most of the support cast are nice likable individuals who bring to life the first decade after the Norman Conquest. The story line is action-packed, but emphasizes the distrust between the Normans, Saxons, and Scots. Though the villain is obvious and his demise too easy, Conqueror romance fans will immensely appreciate Margo Maguire fine historical.
Harriet Klausner on Amazon.com.
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