Tag: Historical Romance Page 49 of 53

Interview with the spy’s husband

On October 5, 2016

park-444223_1920 The newest correspondent for The Teatime Tattler is masked, but the mask cannot disguise the youth of her voice or the slenderness of her form. Still, who better to interview a viscount about his life and his love, than a lady? The predictable, thrifty, chivalrous hero from Barbara Devlin’s book My Lady, The Spy takes the seat beside her in the park, as arranged.

Anonymous interviewer for The Teatime Tattler: What is your full name?

Viscount Wainsbrough: Dirk Henry Archibald Randolph, Viscount Wainsbrough.

TTT: Do you have a nickname?

VW: My brother calls me His Dullship of Wainsbrough, though I take issue with his characterization. What Rebecca calls me is between my wife and I.

TTT: What is one word that best describes you?

VW: Honorable.

TTT: You don’t elaborate much, do you?

VW: I exercise economy in all things.

TTT: Describe what you are wearing now to our readers.

VW: Buckskin breeches, a white shirt sans cravat, a dark green hacking jacket, and highly polished Hessians.

TTT: Do you think the author portrayed you accurately?

VW: I do not believe I am as stodgy as Ms. Devlin thinks, and I suspect my wife would agree with my assessment.

TTT: What makes you laugh out loud?

VW: I am not one to engage in frivolous jollity.

TTT: What is your favorite dessert?

VW: Rebecca, my wife.

TTT: What is your favorite drink?

VW: Brandy.

TTT: What is your greatest fear?

VW: That Rebecca might be recalled into service for the Counterintelligence Corps.

TTT: What is your favorite color?

VW: In truth, I have no such partiality, but Rebecca believes I favor burgundy, which was my father’s preference. It is a longstanding joke in my family.

TTT: What do you wear when you go to sleep?

VW: That is between my wife and I.

TTT: What is the perfect romantic date?

VW: Ah, Ms. Devlin explained that a date refers to a private event, of sorts, with a lady, and that is an easy answer. Anything involving my wife. Beyond that, my needs are simple.

TTT: How ticklish are you? Where are you ticklish?

VW: I am immune to such childish antics.

TTT: What’s your favourite smell?

VW: I adore Rebecca’s lavender water.

TTT: What does it remind you of?

VW: Why, my wife, of course.

TTT: When you look at a woman what catches your interest?

VW: The only woman who holds my attention is Rebecca, and I love her brown eyes. She is the only woman I have any interest in touching or having touch me.

TTT: Do you have somebody in your life now?

VW: Rebecca is my life.

TTT: What is one word that best describes her?

VW: Incomparable.

TTT: Is your book part of a series?

VW: It is the second in the Brethren of the Coast series.

TTT: What does the future hold for the readers of the series?

VW: Each member of the Brethren has a story, and some have yet to be told. I believe Damian’s story, The Duke Wears Nada, debuts in January 2017, and I am anxiously awaiting that one, as he is long overdue for his comeuppance.

Barbara says: It’s truly an honor to join the Bluestocking Belles, and I’ve enjoyed introducing one of my favorite characters, the hero from my second book, My Lady, The Spy, which draws heavily on my previous career as a police officer, as well as my personal experiences with undercover work. Enjoy!

barbara-devlin-brethren-series

Excerpt of My Lady, The Spy, Brethren of the Coast book II

The Descendants
France
April, 1811

Death came in a matter of seconds, and it chose a beautiful, star-filled night. In the silver glow of moonlight, the blood staining the front of her peach silk gown, and oozing between her fingers, appeared black as soot from a chimney.

“Oh, Colin. I am so sorry.” Voices echoed in the distance, and L’araignee peered into the darkness to check the vicinity. “I never should have left you alone.”

Amid the blooming rose bushes heralding the advent of spring, the renewal of life, another life had ended. The head cradled in her lap had once sported a boyish expression that melted many a female heart. Now, with his face eerily devoid of emotion, she bent and kissed the only spot on Colin’s forehead not covered with blood.

“I will avenge you, my sweet angel.” Despair was a bitter pill, and L’araignee clenched a fist and swallowed a sob. “I swear it on the graves of my parents.”

A search party drew nigh, and she had to depart or risk a similar fate.

Yet it was so hard to let go.

Her partner would be buried in an unmarked grave, with no ceremony, prayer, or eulogy offered. And no mourner would shed a tear.

Because no one grieved the death of a spy.

“Over here. There is someone over here!”

“I will cry for you, and I shall carry your memory forever,” she said in a whisper. For the last time, she caressed his cheek and eased his head from her lap. She pressed her fingers to her lips, and then touched his cold flesh. “Be at peace, my darling.”

Rustling in the bushes brought her up short.

“You there, stand fast,” an unknown male ordered.

“I think not,” L’araignee stated softly below the interloper’s earshot.

In a flash, she ran behind a tall hedge to a hailstorm of protestations. Ah, a garden was an excellent hiding place. After eluding her pursuers and gaining a measure of safety among the topiaries, she doffed her gown, slippers, and undergarments and rolled everything into a tight ball.

Quickly, she dropped to her knees and crawled beneath the thick canopy of a thorny shrub, which opened countless tiny cuts in her flesh. Ignoring the burning sensation, she smeared handfuls of damp earth on her skin as camouflage. When footsteps approached, she covered her mouth, because the slightest gasp could betray her location. Through the foliage, she counted five rows of buttons on a hussar-style waistcoat and bit her lip. The man was a member of General Bonaparte’s la Garde imperiale.

And L’araignee was in trouble.

If Bony wanted her, she had been well and truly compromised.

Fear shivered down her spine. She saluted the disconcerting reaction and set it aside, because now was not the time for hysterics. She had to get to a safe house. Had to make a run for the Belgian coast. If her communiqué had reached London, Colin’s friend, a trusted ally, should be anchored offshore.

Dirk Randolph would take her home.

Information of utmost importance had to be delivered to the Ministry of Defense and the Counterintelligence Corps. What she possessed was vital to national security, and she could not fail in her duty.

Colin had died for what she knew.

There was a traitor to the Crown in their ranks.

The situation was urgent, and she had to move. With the stealth and skill of a seasoned agent, she slipped between row upon row of ornamental trees and bushes in the elegant garden. Conversation ahead halted her flight. With nary a sound, L’araignee shimmied on all fours and sheltered in the underside of a large holly. The pointed leaves snagged her hair and the bundled clothing.

“I thought I saw someone come this way.”

From her vantage, several pairs of hussar boots appeared on the path.

“Well, there is no one here now.” The guard kicked a small stone. “Get some privates from the infantry, and have them dig a hole for the body. I am returning to the ball.”

L’araignee sat still for several minutes. Despite inclinations to the contrary, she remained calm and patient. An ambitious military man could be lurking in the vicinity, in hopes of making a name for himself at her expense. It was an old trick; one she knew well.

“You are so very sly,” she whispered to herself. “But so am I.”

She waited a tad longer.

Muffled footsteps caught her trained ear, and she shook her head and smiled.

They would not catch L’araignee that night.

About Barbara Devlin

Bestselling, Amazon All-Star author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a week long vacation to Bethany Beach, DE that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite.

Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature flawed heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero, before they find their happily ever after.

After a line-of-duty injury forced her to retire from police work, Barbara earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.

Only Foolish Servants Gossip

By Caroline Warfield

On September 23, 2016

In Bluestocking Belles, Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

HonoredReaders,

Mrs. Mulligan of Pudding Lane came to our offices this very morning with a most intriguing document. Knowing our readers’ avid interest in the activities of the Grenford family, we agreed to her rather ambitious price to obtain the missive. We hereby print the document in its entirety (with some discrete corrections to spelling and grammar, which were greatly needed) and sincerely hope Miss Maud Mulligan, upstairs maid for the Duchess of Haverford at Hollystone Hall, doesn’t find her career as a servant cut short by her willingness to report on the doings her betters, at least until another such missive may come into our possession.

S. Clemens

Maud Mulligan

Dearest Mother,
You said as how you wanted to know how I got on in this big house and what the toffs and their ladies get up to for three weeks running. It would take more time than that the Stanley woman might give me and more paper than I can afford to tell you all I’ve seen and heard. Most of my stories will have to wait until I see you, if I’m ever free to visit.

Right off I was assigned as maid to Miss Dinah Baumann, a spinster lady of some years. I worried, me not knowing anything about hair and clothes and such, but turns out the lady mostly kept to her bed and had me fetching and carrying for her and the little grey kitten that wiggled its way into her bed one afternoon.

Besides getting up early, starting the fire, fetching the lady’s chocolate, and general cleaning, I go up and down the servants’ stairs once or twice an hour, between Miss Baumann’s demands, the cat making disagreeable messes, and Mrs. Stanley sending me off on one errand and another every time she claps eyes on me, there being so many guests and so few maids. The house fairly buzzes with stories, I can tell you.

Esther Baumann

Miss Baumann—Miss Esther, the young one, not the old lady—is ever so kind. She brought her own maid and told Reba—that’s the maid—to look after me a bit so I don’t get behind. I wouldn’t say an unkind word about the Misses Baumann for all some in this house, ignorant all, think a Jewish Banker’s daughter ought not to be here. A perfect lady is Miss Esther Baumann, dressed as smart as they come and refined as need be. I won’t hear a word against her and so I said over servants’ tea to the ruffian who tends the spit. Young is no excuse for stupid. That’s what Mr. Fournier, (he be the French cook) said. No excuse for stupid. I know better. Remember Mr. Cohn the baker? Most honest baker in the city and his cakes are heavenly.

I was ever so surprised though when that gentleman of Miss Esther arrived with no invitation and still dirty from the road on Christmas morning. Some said as how it showed disrespect, but the duchess didn’t mind. I heard she welcomed him like a long lost friend. When I helped fetch hot water up to the room he shared with Lord Elfingham—beggars not being choosers—he seemed gentleman enough to me. He put me in mind of Mr. Cohn’s son Havel.

Adam Halevy

I should say I believe Mr. Halevy is Miss Esther’s gentlemen, but I’m not sure. She certainly follows him with her eyes when he’s around, or, so a footman told me, but she told her aunt that she never wanted to talk to him. Ever.

But that isn’t the end of it. This is why I took pen to paper tonight. The servant’s hall went all abuzz when the duchess asked Miss Esther and Mr. Halevy to say their Sabbath blessings with the company. I know I shouldn’t have, but I slipped upstairs and into the room where they had set up the table. No one saw me back by the draperies, but I watched it all. I heard that crab, Lady Stanton whisper some horrid things, but most of them looked so interested I think they prayed along. The look on Mr. Halevy’s face when he said the last blessing and she said “Amen,” would have melted any woman’s heart. Maybe the rumor I heard later about Miss Esther going out to the barn with Lord Jonathon Grenford wasn’t true.

Oh my! I’ve gone on too long. The house is in an uproar about the costume ball, and I should be working. Maybe costumes and candlelight and such will make magic for Miss Esther and her gent. I hope so.

Your daughter,
Maud

PS When you go for bread, tell Havel Cohn I asked after him.

__________________________________________________

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield

Esther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?

Adam Halevy prospered under the tutelage of his distant cousin, powerful banker Nathaniel Baumann. He’s ready to find a suitable wife, someone who understands a woman’s role, and will make a traditional home. Why is Baumann’s outspoken, independent daughter the one woman who haunts his nights?

You’ll find it in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, the 2106 Bluestocking Belles’ holiday anthology, available now for pre-order. 25% of all proceeds will go to the Malala Fund. The education of women and girls is the favorite charity of the Duchess of Haverford and the Bluestocking Belles. Scroll to the bottom for links.

An excerpt:

Her restless gaze found Adam standing with the Belvoir ladies and their brother. He smiled down at Felicity Belvoir, who looked utterly rapt.

Esther knew she should move. All afternoon she had avoided him, but at that moment, she could not make her feet move. What has Felicity so fascinated? Is he telling her about Spain? Did he actually meet Wellington? What of his perilous journey? Longing to know kept her fixed in place even as her stubbornness urged her to move away before someone noticed she stared. Too late! Hythe glanced up, saw her, and smiled.

Hythe bowed over her hand and said, “Your friend has had quite an epic adventure.”

“Is that what he’s telling Felicity?” she asked with a haughty shake of her head.

Hythe’s lips twitched, and she felt her cheeks heat. When he offered his arm, panic set in. Does he mean to walk me back to his sisters? Adam is there, the wretch!

Hythe followed the direction of her eyes. “Shall we take a turn about the room, Miss Baumann?” he asked. When she laid a shaking hand on his and nodded, he patted her it with his gloved one, changed the topic of conversation to riding mishaps at the hunt, and soon had her laughing.

An hour later, Esther, relieved to have passed the afternoon without being cornered, she felt composed and less shaken. If Mr. Halevy wishes to speak with me, I’ll permit it. It is foolish to allow him to discomfort me. I’ll be all that is cool and in control.

When she spied him across the room speaking with one of the Duke of Ashbury’s daughters, he looked at her across the expanse of room and smiled with such sweetness that her heart skipped two beats.

hhh-meme

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A Widow Up To Her Old Tricks

By Caroline Warfield

On September 21, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

We wish to alert our readers that Lady Claudia Akford has stormed back into London after years in seclusion following her grand scandal. As Teatime Tattler readers know, she departed society some years ago after being compromised by Lord Luvington. As the scandal broke, Lady Claudia married Lord Akford in a hasty ceremony and retreated to the country side. Most of London’s elite suspected they had seen the last of her. That the lady would remain hidden from society for the rest of her years as she rightly should after being so thoroughly compromised. Alas, she returned to society setting every tongue in ton wagging.

edmund_blair_leighton_-_the_request Now after less than a fortnight back in society it seems the scandalous lady is proving nothing has changed. The ton’s matrons had hoped Lady Claudia would redeem herself. A few brave ladies even took a chance by allowing her into their drawing rooms. The ton’s hopes where quickly dashed when Lord Shillington was spotted at Lady Claudia’s door, without a chaperon. Can you imagine?

The dowager Countess Bradford happened down St James Square late last evening. She received more than a quiet carriage ride home when much to her shock, she witnessed Lord Shillington entering Lady Claudia’s newly purchased home. Lady Bradford reported seeing Lord Shillington quickly enter the home at a late hour. No one else was with him and we have it on good authority that no societal event was taking place. Lady Claudia is a widow and lives alone.

There is no need to spell out the inappropriate nature of Lord Shillington’s late night visit or the scandalous nature of Lady Claudia’s having admitted him to her home. It would seem Lady Claudia has set her sights on ruining one of London’s most respected lords. Or, mayhap, Lord Shillington has simply fooled the ton into believing him honorable.

Will the pair set things to right? Can London expect another hasty wedding from the tarnished lady? Only time will tell, but you can be assured we will keep you abreast of the situation.

About the Book

She never wanted him…
Ruined by scandal, Claudia Akford survived years of marriage to a cruel brute. Widowed, she is determined to regain her standing in society, but Lord Shillington personifies temptation. Kind and gentle, yet masculine and sinfully handsome, he would make the perfect lover, but he wants more than she is willing to give.

He needed her…
While Henry Shillington knows a little of the beautiful but notorious Lady Claudia Akford, he is struck by her kindhearted, accomplished, and witty demeanor. The more time he spends in her company, the more he dreams of a future with her. But the lady resists his honorable overtures, and a mistress will never do for him.

Can two wary people overcome past hurts, an old scandal, and social strictures to embrace true love?

Buy it here.

About the Author

Bestselling, Amazon All Star author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.

Author links:

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/#!/AuthorAmandaMarie1
Twitter www.twitter.com/AmandaMarieAuth
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10209362.Amanda_Marie
Website: www.amandamariel.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bQgkbr

More By the Author

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Wedding Night Jitters

By Sherry Ewing

On August 27, 2016

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

Edmund_Blair_Leighton_-_signing_the_register

Grace, Lady de Courtenay gazed around the room at their wedding guests. Everyone was having a marvelous time and Grace had never been happier. One man, in particular, drew her attention. How could he not? She could hardly believe she was married, let alone to her second cousin. Relation or not, she had always held an affection for him and obviously the feelings had been reciprocated considering they were now man and wife. Her father may have protested that she was too young to wed when Adrian first offered for her, but both her parents knew that the marriage would be advantageous to both families.

Adrian must have felt her stare for he turned from the gentleman he had been speaking with and gave her a smile that spoke a thousand words and more. Her heart fluttered within her chest wondering what was in store for her this evening when the night would finally allow them the privacy of their bedchamber. Her mother had prepared her for the inevitable, but that did not help the nervous knots that formed in the pit of her belly. He is just so handsome, Grace thought, before she became lost in the memory of when his lips touched hers for the very first time. She had known, in that instant, she would be forever lost. Her fate had been sealed the day she happily accepted his offer of marriage.

Grace watched when her husband excused himself and began making his way across the crowded room. He was a gentleman that any lady would be glad to call her own. Tall, broad shouldered, with hair as dark as the midnight skies, along with piercing blue eyes that could rival a clear summer day. This was no idle gentleman of leisure, as his physical appearance would attest, and he was all hers. Grace snapped her fan open and began to wave it before her flushed face. Did the temperature of the room increase the closer he came to her side? Her knees began to buckle with each step he took. She reached for the settee directly behind her until she was able to sit. She could not miss his eyes twinkling mischievously as though he knew her inner most thoughts. The rogue, she pondered, hiding her own grin behind her fan when he at last stood before her.

Admiration painting by Vittorio Reggianini not PD Adrian leaned over to pull out one of the pristine white roses in a nearby vase before sitting down next to her. He traced the petals of the flower across her cheek. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with being chilled. No, far from it. She was burning with a need that only her husband could satisfy. His lips replaced the rose and she wished with all her might that their wedding supper was at an end so her husband could put her out of her misery.

“I missed you,” he whispered huskily in her ear.

She gave a light laugh, snapped her fan shut, and playfully tapped his arm with it. “I was hardly far, my love.”

“You were much too far for my liking, my dearest. If I could, I would keep you ever close to my side.”

“That would certainly give society something to talk about in the morning,” she replied wishing for nothing more than to be alone with him, especially when he began nibbling at her ear. “Adrian, you must stop. What will people think?”

“They will think that I am madly in love with my beautiful young bride, which, of course, I am,” he declared handing her the flower.

She peered around him to watch several gentlemen frown in their direction. “We are being watched, and it appears they are not pleased with our public display of affection, darling.”

“I do not care what they think. Besides, we are celebrating our union. Maybe they will remember when they were also in a state of wedded bliss,” he answered and then proceeded to kiss her cheek. The sound of louder than average laughter caused Adrian to turn to stare at the crowd, which began to disperse after having been caught staring rudely at the bride and groom. “Why am I suddenly under the impression that people are sniggering behind our backs?”

Several people continued whispering to one another and Grace could only imagine what their conversation entailed. She tugged on her husband’s sleeve and he leaned over to hear her whispered words. “Do not give them the satisfaction of letting them know you are cross.”

“I am not cross.”

“You are frowning.” Grace giggled.

“At least I have you smiling and that is what matters most,” he stated with another warm smile. “You have honored me this day by becoming my wife, Grace.”

He kissed her parted lips, apparently not caring that all of society was watching their every move. Grace sighed in pleasure. “I am the one who is honored, Adrian, but if we can find a way to remain out of the latest edition of the Teatime Tattler it will be a miracle.”

“That gossip rag that is taking all of London by storm? What could they possibly find interesting in the news that we are married, my dear?” Adrian stood to watch their guests again then pulled her to stand beside him. He placed his arm around her for support.

Grace leaned into his embrace taking comfort when his arm tightened around her. “We are the talk of the town, darling. How you do not know this is beyond me. It is not every day that a woman marries a man with exactly the same given and family name as her brother, never mind that he is her second cousin. Let us not even go into the confusion of your title being the same as our family name, so that all that changes with our wedding is that I become Lady de Courtenay instead of Lady Grace de Courtenay.”

Adrian chuckled, apparently amused by the whole situation. “Is that all?”

Grace looked up at his face and laughed. “Well if you do not care that we are being talked about then neither will I. I am sure half the people here already doubt your sanity in marrying an educated woman.”

Adrian’s brow rose at her implication. “They might just learn a thing or two about the advantages of having a woman who speaks her mind as a wife.” He perused the crowd again until a truly wicked gleam entered his eyes.

“I am afraid to ask what you are thinking,” Grace said. He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow.

Adrian only took a few steps before he swooped her up into his arms. “Since we will most likely be in tomorrow’s edition anyway, we might as well give them something to talk about.”

640px-The_Duchess_of_Richmond's_Ball_by_Robert_Alexander_Hillingford He began carrying her from the wedding reception. Before they left, he turned around at the entryway to the ballroom to face their startled guests. He somehow managed a short bow. “Please enjoy the rest of the festivities. Grace and I are in need of…”

Grace muffled a laugh as Adrian left his words lingering in the air. She heard gasps of shock from the ballroom as her husband took the stairs two at a time. Reaching their room, he closed the door to their wedding suite. As Adrian set her down upon her feet, Grace looked forward to finally becoming Adrian’s wife in every sense of the word. In the months to come, she would relive and treasure each and every moment with her husband, after an unforeseen tragedy destroys her world.

This is an original piece and prequel to A Kiss for Charity, a Regency novella within the Bluestocking Belles upcoming box set, Holly and Hopeful Hearts, to be released November 15, 2016.

_DSF0006 Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical & time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in 2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde & the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry is currently working on her next novel and when not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry’s work here on her page with the Bluestocking Belles or on the following social media outlets:

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Baron Fishes Girl From the Sea

By Guest author

On August 24, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Hunting through a bundle of medieval manuscripts, recently found stuffing the bottom of a trunk purchased at auction, your faithful editor found the following. Surely the interviewer was a Teatime Tattler columnist, born 600 years before his time?

Yesterday off the shores of Great Yarmouth a Scottish ship went down in a sudden storm. We have learned that, Baron Conlin de Braose of Sandwich, Baron of the Cinque Ports, risked his life as well as his ship and the lives of his crew trying to save his future Scottish bride. But sources tell us his betrothed was not even on the ship and what he fished out of the sea is very interesting indeed. We interviewed the baron’s squire, Toft, to learn more on the horrific situation.

Toft, can you tell us why Lord Conlin de Braose risked his life taking his ship into a storm and what he got from this heroic act?

Aye. I’d be glad to. Lord Conlin as we all call him, thought he was saving his betrothed, Lady Catherine MacEwen from Kirkaldy when the Scottish ship and its crew was lost at sea. But it seems his betrothed wasn’t on the ship after all, although he managed to save two people. One of them happened to be a beautiful young lady named Isobel MacEwen, the betrothed’s cousin . . . and proxy.”

Proxy? So, you’re saying the girl he fished from the sea has been sent to marry him in his betrothed’s stead?

That’s exactly what I’m saying. And if I’m not mistaken, Lord Conlin seems a bit smitten with the girl.

He does? But what about his betrothed? Do tell us more.

His betrothed, Lady Catherine, is known as horse face and Shrew of the Scots, if that answers your question without being too direct. Of course no one’s actually seen the shrew yet, but her reputation precedes her.

I see. I’ve also heard Lady Isobel – the baron’s bounty – has been witness to a murder. Can you tell me who has been murdered and if she’s seen the murderer and can identify him?

The one murdered was King Alexander of Scotland, although it seems someone wants everyone to think it was an accident. And Lady Isobel only saw the feet of the murderer, but can identify people by their shoes and the way they walk.

She can? Isn’t that an odd ability to have?

There’s a good explanation for her unique skill. But it’s not half as odd as what the baron found in her trunk that he also fished from the sea.

BaronsBountyAudio500 To find out more about the mysterious Isobel MacEwen and what she has in the trunk that not only shocked the baron but will surprise you as well, read The Baron’s Bounty, Book 2 of the Barons of the Cinque Ports Series by Elizabeth Rose. The book is also available in paperback and audiobook form.

Excerpt from The Baron’s Bounty:

Isobel ran to the edge of the cliff and peered over just as the moon broke through the clouds once again. She gasped when she saw King Alexander lying on the beach with his neck twisted at an odd angle, obviously broken from the fall. More twigs snapped underfoot, and she heard the sound of someone hurrying through the underbrush – headed in her direction.

baronsbountylogo2500 Her heart beat furiously, and her body shook in fear. The murderer of the king was not going to be in a hurry to be caught. She couldn’t let him see her, or he’d kill her as well. Without her escorts she was unprotected and very vulnerable. She had only a dagger at her side – no match for the broadsword of a knight, or even the strong hands of a crazed serf. She had no choice but to hide in order to save her own life.

She hurried behind a tree and hunkered down behind a bush, not able to believe what she’d just witnessed. She heard the person free the king’s horse and slap it on its rear to send it off. Hoofbeats sounded loudly as the horse ran through the foliage. Leaves crunched underfoot and she heard the killer coming toward her.

Step, Drag, Swish. Step, Drag, Swish, echoed in her brain as she focused on the sound of their footsteps. She couldn’t keep her body from shaking as the murderer walked past her, so close she could have reached out and touched him.

She moved her hand slightly, and a twig snapped beneath her palm. The killer stopped right in front of the bush that concealed her presence. She didn’t dare move or even breathe, for fear the man would hear her and she’d end up at the bottom of the cliff alongside their ruler.

Her eyes fastened onto the man’s feet, and his boots immediately took her interest. She’d never seen any like these before. They were side-laced riding boots that looked to be made of two-toned Cordoba leather. They were of the finest quality, and obviously very expensive since Cordoba leather came all the way from Spain. They were made from the hides of Musoli goats, tawed in alum in a secret method only known to the Moors. That’s what the cordwainer in town had told her. They were good friends since she spent so much time in his shop, and she’d learned everything she could about making shoes. He’d also said this type of leather was brought back by the Crusaders and very expensive. So expensive that cordwainers only made these shoes on special order from nobles who paid dearly for them.

Meet Elizabeth Rose

LizrosesSaug2500 Elizabeth Rose is a bestselling, multi-published author of over 50 books and an amazon all-star. Her books have received rave reviews and The Oracle of Delphi was even featured on the History Channel. She is a native of the Chicago suburbs but a country girl at heart. Married to the same wonderful man for over thirty years, they have two grown sons who inspired Elizabeth to start self-publishing by telling her she couldn’t do it. She is an artist who creates all her own covers as well as her booktrailers. Her books are all available on amazon as ebooks, papaerbacks and some are in audiobook form as well.

The Baron’s Bounty http://www.amazon.com/dp/B015DGNMAK

Website: http://elizabethrosenovels.com

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Twitter: @ElizRoseNovels