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“You wish to know the reason I tended your injury?” Michael D’Arci continued. “Why I did not allow you to die as is your due?”
She did not need to be told. Her words might be slow to form, but she knew he sought revenge.
“Justice,” he said.
Revenge by a lesser name was still revenge, especially where unwarranted.
“Though you may be clever, I vow you will be judged and found wanting.”
In the past, she had been called clever. Would she ever be again—lacking D’Arci’s taint of sarcasm?
When she gave no reply, he said, “Could you, you would kill again, hmm?”
Again, her tongue loosened. “Most assuredly I would defend my person against any who seeks to violate me.” Was that her voice? Strong and even without break or searching? Whence did it come?
“You speak of ravishment?” D’Arci bit.
Though she longed to look away, she kept her gaze on his face, noting his full mouth, straight nose, broad cheekbones, and heavily lashed gray eyes—so like his brother’s she strained to hold back the panic that would have her scurry for cover.
Of a sudden, he cursed, his unholy use of the Lord’s name making her flinch. “Is that what you will tell the sheriff? That you murdered my brother because he ravished you?”
Beatrix blinked. Though ravishment had surely been Simon D’Arci’s intent, it seemed the Wulfrith dagger had stopped him. Determined to correct Michael D’Arci—to assure him she was fairly certain his brother had failed to commit the heinous act—she searched for words. However, his darkening face once more caused her tongue to tangle. Could the devil assume human form, he would surely be pleased to do so in the image of Michael D’Arci.
But for all of her fear, hope slipped in. Of that day at the ravine, he surely knew only what Baron Lavonne had shared. What if she told him the truth, even if most of the truth she could only surmise?
“I did not…” She swallowed. “I tell you true, I…”
“Did not murder him?”
“I could never murder. I but d-d-defen—”
“Defended yourself?”
How she detested his impatience! “’Twas surely hap—”
“Happenstance?”
That word she had not lacked. “Aye, happenstance.”
“You do not know for certain?”
“I do. I just cannot…remember it all.”
“What fool do you think me, Lady Beatrix?” he growled.
“I am not a m-murderer.”
“You expect me to believe the young man I knew well was a ravisher, and you whom I know not at all are no murderer? I should have let you bleed to death.”
Anger streaked Beatrix’s breast, and her next words sprang free as if she were quick of tongue. “Your brother would have!”
D’Arci drew a sharp breath, then splayed a hand across her throat. “You lie, witch, and I shall see you dead for it.”
Though certain he meant to strangle her, his fingers did not tighten. Still, her own fear denied her breath. Was he playing with her? First torment, then death?
She glanced at the goblet. Providing she did not alert him, she could reach it. Providing he had imbibed as much wine as his breath told, she could escape him.
He slid his hand further up her neck. “When you stand before the sheriff”—
She was not to die this night?
—“I will savor your fear.”
She swallowed hard against his palm and reached. “Nay, you will not,” she said and swept the goblet to hand.
As he jerked his chin around, she slammed the vessel against his temple. For a breathless moment, he was still, and then he collapsed atop her.
Staring at his head on her chest and the trickle of blood coursing his brow, she quaked in remembrance of his brother who had similarly fallen across her.
Had she killed Michael D’Arci?
Nay, he breathed, but that did not mean she had not damaged him terribly. She, better than most, knew what could result from a blow to the head. Recalling her return to consciousness in the ravine when she had seen crimson on her gloved fingers, she began to shake. That day, her young life had come as near to ending as one could come without actually dying.
She squeezed her eyes closed, but when she opened them, the crimson remained. This time it bled from Michael D’Arci.
Knowing he might soon regain consciousness, she wriggled out from beneath him and dropped to her knees alongside the bed. Now how was she to escape?
Think. Think hard, Beatrice. She shook her head. Then pray hard, for you cannot do this without help.
Though she knew she risked much, she delayed her escape to call upon the Lord. And when she said, “Amen,” she knew what must be done. As her only covering was the chemise the chamber maid had delivered the day she awakened at Broehne Castle, and the baron had taken her bloodied gown and mantle for evidence, she would have to impose on Michael D’Arci.
She slid a hand under him and released the brooch that clasped the red mantle at his throat. Blessedly, the lining was black, which would allow her to merge with the night. She turned the inside of the garment out and dragged it over her shoulders. As she secured it with the brooch, she saw the dagger and purse on D’Arci’s belt. Beseeching God’s forgiveness, she appropriated both and retrieved her psalter. Not until she reached the door did she realize she lacked footwear, but there was nothing for it as D’Arci’s bulky boots would only hinder her.
She eased the door open and peered into the dim corridor. Unlike the first sennight since her awakening, there was no guard present. Obviously, Baron Lavonne had grown confident she would not—or could not—escape. Now if she could make it through the hall, into the bailey, and out the postern gate.
Though she had known the latter would prove difficult, if not impossible, since so much of a castle’s defenses depended on the gate being well disguised, she quickly located it and slipped through.
Not until she was outside the castle walls, driving one leg in front of the other beneath a cold sliver moon, was the hue raised. Entering the wood she had so longed for, she paused and pressed a hand to her throbbing head.
Which way? She peered through the darkness and, clutching her psalter in an attempt to pry free the icy fingers of fear, made her decision. The only way that mattered was away from Broehne, though not so far she could not watch for her family who would surely come for her.
A good plan, for Lavonne and D’Arci would never expect her to remain on the barony of Abingdale.
If you enjoyed this excerpt of The Yielding: Book Two in the Age of Faith series, it is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks Store, and Kobo Books
TAMARA LEIGH NOVELS
INSPIRATIONAL HISTORICAL TITLES
The Feud: A Medieval Romance Series
Baron of Godsmere: Book One, 01/15: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
Age of Faith: A Medieval Romance Series
The Unveiling: Book One, 08/12: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
The Yielding: Book Two, 12/12: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
The Redeeming: Book Three, 05/13: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
The Kindling: Book Four, 11/13: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
The Longing: Book Five, 05/14: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
CLEAN READ HISTORICAL TITLES
Dreamspell: a medieval time travel romance, 03/12 Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
Lady At Arms: a “clean read” rewrite of the 1994 Bantam Books bestseller Warrior Bride, 01/14: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
Lady Of Eve: a “clean read” rewrite of the 1994 Bantam Books bestseller Virgin Bride, 06/14: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
Lady Of Fire: a “clean read” rewrite of the 1995 Bantam Books bestseller Pagan Bride, 11/14: Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
INSPIRATIONAL CONTEMPORARY TITLES
Southern Discomfort Series
Leaving Carolina, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2009
Nowhere, Carolina, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2010
Restless in Carolina, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2011
Stand-Alone Novels
Stealing Adda, 05/12 (ebook edition) Amazon, B&N, iBooks Store, Kobo Books
Stealing Adda, NavPress, 2006 (print edition)
Perfecting Kate, Multnomah, 2007
Splitting Harriet, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2007
Faking Grace, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2008
OUT-OF-PRINT GENERAL MARKET TITLES
Warrior Bride, Bantam Books, 1994
*Virgin Bride, Bantam Books, 1994
Pagan Bride, Bantam Books, 1995
Saxon Bride, Bantam Books, 1995
Misbegotten, HarperCollins, 1996
Unforgotten, HarperCollins, 1997
Blackheart, Dorchester Leisure, 2001
*Virgin Bride is the sequel to Warrior Bride
Pagan Pride and Saxon Bride are stand-alone novels
www.tamaraleigh.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tamara Leigh holds a Master’s Degree in Speech and Language Pathology. In 1993, she signed a 4-book contract with Bantam Books. Her first medieval romance, Warrior Bride, was released in 1994. Continuing to write for the general market, three more novels were published with HarperCollins and Dorchester and earned awards and spots on national bestseller lists.
In 2006, Tamara’s first inspirational contemporary romance, Stealing Adda, was released. In 2008, Perfecting Kate was optioned for a movie and Splitting Harriet won an ACFW “Book of the Year” award. The following year, Faking Grace was nominated for a RITA award. In 2011, Tamara wrapped up her “Southern Discomfort” series with the release of Restless in Carolina.
When not in the middle of being a wife, mother, and cookbook fiend, Tamara buries her nose in a good book—and her writer’s pen in ink. In 2012, she returned to the historical romance genre with Dreamspell, a medieval time travel romance. Shortly thereafter, she once more invited readers to join her in the middle ages with the Age of Faith series: The Unveiling, The Yielding, The Redeeming, The Kindling, and The Longing. Tamara’s #1 Bestsellers—Lady at Arms, Lady Of Eve, Lady Of Fire, and Lady Of Conquest—are the first of her medieval romances to be rewritten as “clean reads.” Look for Baron Of Emberly, the second book in The Feud series, in early winter 2015.
Tamara lives near Nashville with her husband, sons, a Doberman that bares its teeth not only to threaten the UPS man but to smile, and a feisty Morkie—named Maizy Grace, by the way—that keeps her company during long writing stints.
Connect with Tamara at her website www.tamaraleigh.com, her blog The Kitchen Novelist, Facebook, and Twitter. To be added to her mailing list for notification of new releases and special promotions, email her at [email protected].
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