Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses

by Ceci Giltenan et al.

  “Nor would I,” Violetta’s father said, setting the box on a side table.

  “Do the riches belong to you, though,” Violetta asked, “since they were found on your land?”

  Osric set the poker back in the iron holder. “I honestly do not know. Since the items were stolen, the relatives of the lord who lost the riches may have right of ownership. Or, since so many years have passed since the robbery, the treasure may belong to the crown. ’Twill be up to the sheriff to advise us.”

  Violetta nodded, but couldn’t keep her thoughts from returning to the unstable stone in the cavern ceiling. If it fell in, the cavern would be inaccessible; part of her and Osric’s family history would be gone forever.

  Osric sat again, and his features shadowed with both resolve and disappointment. “Your father, the sheriff, and I talked about the tunnel.”

  “And?”

  “We decided ’tis too dangerous to keep it open.”

  “Oh. You mean…?”

  “It must be sealed,” her sire answered. “If that does not keep folk out, the sheriff told us to fill it in with earth.”

  “What a shame. I have to admit, though, I would not want anyone else to be injured by falling into the passageway.”

  “Especially children,” Osric said. “’Tis remarkable no one fell into the tunnel long before you, Violetta.”

  “Remarkable, also, that we happened to find it at all,” she murmured.

  “Mayhap we were destined to do so.”

  The husky note in Osric’s voice made her think of the kisses they’d shared. “You may be right.” She couldn’t deny she believed destiny had brought her to the stone circle on the same night as Osric. “Before the passageway is sealed, though, should we not explore all of it?”

  “Osric and I returned belowground after the sheriff left,” her father said. “We inspected all of the tunnel, including the part on my lands.”

  “And?”

  “We did not discover much of interest, except a rotting rope ladder. I am guessing ’twas the one Jacqueline used to get down into the tunnel—”

  A knock sounded on the solar door. Osric went to the panel, opened it, and spoke to someone outside, before returning to the fire. “I am afraid I must attend to a matter of estate,” he said. “You are welcome to stay here.”

  “Thank you, but we must be leaving,” her sire said.

  Violetta fought a pang of dismay. “But—”

  “Your mother has been very worried about you, as I was. She will want to see you are well and be told all of what has happened.”

  Violetta hated to think her mother had been so upset, but she didn’t want to leave Osric. She couldn’t, until she knew for certain she’d be permitted to see him again. “I will go with you, as long as I can visit Osric tomorrow.”

  Her sire frowned. “’Twill depend on your ankle.”

  “Father—”

  “Please do not be unreasonable,” he said firmly. “I will consider your request on the morrow, but for now, you will come home.”

  Did her sire consider her relationship with Osric to be finished?

  Part of her insisted she should stubbornly refuse to leave Coltingstow. Yet, ’twould put Osric in a difficult position. ’Twould also threaten the newfound peace, and that would affect many more lives than her own.

  Torment gleamed in Osric’s eyes. But, when his lips formed an encouraging smile and he nodded to her, silently telling her to go, hope blossomed inside her.

  Somehow, she knew exactly what he was thinking: Worry not, my love. I promise, I will never let you go.

  Chapter 11

  Twelve days later

  “Do not open your eyes yet, all right?”

  Violetta sighed as she continued to stroll alongside Osric through the field, her arm linked through his. “You did make me promise not to peek.”

  He stole a sidelong glance at her, and in the light of the burning reed he held to guide their way through the darkness, she did indeed appear to still have her eyes shut.

  Osric’s heart squeezed in his chest, for he loved that she’d trust him so completely. He loved, too, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him; the way she kissed him with such soul-deep passion; and the way she’d brought light into his days from the moment he’d become reacquainted with her at the stone circle. He’d made many mistakes in his lifetime, but rescuing her was not one of them.

  Neither was ending the years of enmity with the Molineaux family. Over the past days, Osric had been invited several times to dine at Darringsleigh Keep, and after sharing good meals and insightful discussions—even one about possibly dismantling part or all of the old wall—Osric now considered the Molineaux to be allies and friends. Soon, hopefully, they’d become as close as family.

  “Careful.” Osric guided her to the right to avoid a rabbit hole.

  “Is it much farther?” Violetta asked.

  Ahead, torchlight shone from within the stone circle. Osric fought a rush of anxiety. What if she wasn’t pleased with the surprise he’d planned? What if—?

  “Osric.”

  “Aye, love?”

  “Will we be there soon?”

  “Fairly soon.”

  “’Tis lucky my ankle is mostly healed; otherwise, you would be carrying me to wherever we are going.”

  Concern made him draw her to a stop beside him. “Are you in discomfort? And nay, do not dare open your eyes.”

  “I am fine. Just yearning to know why you have been so secretive about tonight.”

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “As I said before, ’tis a surprise that I hope you will like very much.”

  “I shall strive to be patient.”

  “Good.” He resumed walking, drawing her along with him.

  “You do know that putting me in such suspense means you will have to kiss me more than usual this eve?”

  He laughed. “Is that possible? Lately we have spent more of our visits kissing than talking.”

  “I know.” She giggled. “I am not complaining.”

  “Nor am I.” They neared the outer stones. “Just a few more paces, and we will be there—but do not peek. Not until I say you can.”

  A groan broke from her. But, she let him guide her past the outer circle and to a spot near the fallen monolith. Osric’s gaze traveled over the flaming torches set into iron holders servants had brought from the castle earlier; the linen cloth spread out on the stone; the goblets, jug of wine, willow basket of food, and vase of blue roses in the middle of the cloth. All was exactly as he’d asked.

  He unlinked his arm from Violetta’s and slid his torch into the empty iron holder. “All right. You can look now.”

  She opened her eyes and glanced about in wonder.

  “Do you like it, love?”

  “’Tis beautiful. Very romantic.”

  Smiling, he gestured to the monolith, inviting her to sit.

  “The first night we met, you encouraged me to sit there.”

  “I remember.” He’d never forget that night.

  She sat, tucking her cloak in around her, while he took his place opposite her then poured them both wine; he’d asked the servants for the finest in his cellar. He handed a filled goblet to her, and as her fingers closed around it, she murmured, “I recognize this goblet.”

  “Your father let me keep them for tonight. I had them cleaned and polished.”

  “They gleam so beautifully in the torchlight.”

  He held Violetta’s gaze. “I did not think Jacqueline and William would mind us using them.”

  “Jacqueline and William might even be with us now in spirit, watching over us,” Violetta said softly.

  The fine hairs on Osric’s nape prickled, for he’d wondered the same. ’Twas another thing he loved about Violetta: they often had similar thoughts. “How about a toast to them, then?” Osric raised his vessel. “To our ancestors; sworn enemies who found love together.”

  Violetta raised her drink too. “To our ances
tors.” They touched goblets then sipped.

  With a sigh that sounded like contentment, Violetta rested the goblet on her lap and studied the stars.

  “What are you thinking?” Osric put aside his drink to open the basket packed with fare. He set out linen-wrapped parcels, while the scents of roasted chicken and fresh bread wafted.

  “I am thinking that I am incredibly happy,” Violetta answered. “That I want to be this happy for the rest of my days.”

  As do I. “No regrets about climbing over the wall?”

  “Only one.”

  “And that is…?”

  Violetta fingered hair away from her cheek, a hint of sadness in her expression. “Well, that if Jacqueline was even a fraction as happy as I am now, that she didn’t get to marry her true love. That she was forced to wed another man.”

  Osric stilled in setting out the last of the food. The drumming of his heartbeat filled his ears. He’d decided to wait until they’d enjoyed their picnic, but now seemed the ideal moment to do as he’d planned. “Regrettably, their chance at forever-after love was lost. Ours, however, is not.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Osric rose, reached into the bag at his hip then knelt on one knee in front of her, his cloak spreading around him on the ground. She’d set down her goblet, and he gently took hold of the fingers of her left hand.

  His hand shook. Damnation, he hadn’t anticipated being quite so nervous.

  Violetta’s fingers curled inward around his, a gesture of comfort and reassurance.

  And love, he hoped: the same precious, consuming love that he felt for her.

  “You and I can ensure the Seabrook and Molineaux families are never enemies again,” he said, “if ’tis what we both want.”

  He opened his right hand to reveal a gold ring.

  She gasped.

  “Will you agree to spend the rest of your life with me, Violetta? Will you…marry me?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she gazed upon the ring he’d commissioned from a local jeweler. Osric had spoken with her father first, not just to get her sire’s permission to marry her, but to be sure she’d like a betrothal ring shaped like a rose in full bloom. “’Tis exquisite,” she said.

  “It pleases you?”

  “It does. It pleases me, even more, that you wish to wed me. Days ago, I would never have thought….”

  “Aye?”

  “That so much could change, and for the better. But, it has.”

  He had to know her answer. “So? Will you…?”

  Smiling, she kissed him on the mouth. “Osric, my love, I am honored to become your wife.” She kissed him again. “Aye.” Kiss. “Aye.” Kiss. “Aye.” Kiss.

  A growl rumbled in his throat, and he quickly slid the ring onto her finger. Then his hands were burying into her hair, and he kissed her with the hunger burning within him. She matched him kiss for kiss, and only long moments later did their mouths part. He rose to sit beside her on the stone and wrapped his arms around her.

  She set her head against his shoulder. “I love you,” she murmured.

  He kissed her hair. “I love you, too. May we never grow weary of watching the stars together in this ancient place.”

  “Or kissing.”

  He chuckled. “Or kissing.”

  About Catherine Kean

  Catherine Kean is an award-winning, Kindle Unlimited All-Star author of 18 medieval romances whose creative muse has coaxed her to also write in other romance genres. Her love of history began with visits to England during summer vacations, when her British father took her to crumbling medieval castles, dusty museums filled with fascinating artifacts, and historic churches. Her love of the awe-inspiring past stuck with her as she completed a B.A. (Double Major, First Class) in English and History. She completed a year-long Post Graduate course with Sotheby’s auctioneers in London, England, and worked for several years in Canada as an antiques and fine art appraiser.

  After she moved to Florida, she started writing novels, her lifelong dream. She wrote her first medieval romance, A Knight’s Vengeance, while her baby daughter was napping. Catherine’s books were originally published in paperback and several were released in Czech, German, and Thai foreign editions. She has won numerous awards for her stories, including the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. Her novels also finaled in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards, the National Readers’ Choice Awards, and the International Digital Awards.

  When not working on her next book, Catherine enjoys cooking, baking, browsing antique shops, shopping with her daughter, and gardening. She lives in Central Florida with two spoiled rescue cats.

  Connect with Catherine Kean

  Website

  Amazon Author Page

  Facebook

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  Books by Catherine Kean

  A Knight and His Rose (Novella)

  A Knight to Remember (Novella)

  A Knight’s Desire

  A Legendary Love (Novella)

  A Witch in Time (Novella)

  Bound by His Kiss (Novella)

  Dance of Desire

  Her Gallant Knight (Novella)

  My Lady’s Treasure

  One Knight in the Forest (Novella)

  One Knight Under the Mistletoe (Novella)

  One Knight’s Kiss (Novella)

  That Knight by the Sea (Novella)

  Knight’s Series Novels

  A Knight’s Vengeance (Knight’s Series Book 1)

  A Knight’s Reward (Knight’s Series Book 2)

  A Knight’s Temptation (Knight’s Series Book 3)

  A Knight’s Persuasion (Knight’s Series Book 4)

  A Knight’s Seduction (Knight’s Series Book 5)

  A Knight’s Redemption (Knight’s Series Book 6)

  Boxed Sets

  The Knight’s Series: Books 1-5

  A Rose Among Thistles

  By

  B.J. Scott

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, locations and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Copyright © 2018 by B.J. Scott

  Chapter 1

  “If we plan to make the castle before the evening meal, best we break camp and be on our way.” Logan MacAllen said as he gathered his belongings.

  “Aye. Your da will be anxious to learn how we made out,” his cousin Brodie replied.

  With an impending feud looming on the horizon between Clan MacAllen and their long-time enemy, Clan MacRyan, Logan’s father—the clan chieftain—charged him and Brodie with negotiating an alliance with Clan Dunning. When they set out on their mission, Logan was determined to do whatever was necessary to secure the pact. Even if it meant marrying the Dunning’s daughter. Fortunately for Logan, the Dunning hated the MacRyans as much as his father did, so the discussion of a marriage never came up.

  “I dinna know about you, but I will be glad to get home and sleep on my bed, rather than spending another night on the cold hard ground.” Logan pressed a hand to his aching back.

  “It could have been worse, cousin. You could be sharing your pallet with Elsa Dunning.” Brodie tossed back his head and laughed.

  Logan closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought of the unattractive lass. She couldn’t have seen more than fifteen summers, not to mention she was as round as she was tall.

  “I already thanked the Lord for the stay of execution.” Logan released a heavy sigh. “I will just be happy to get home, give da the good news about the alliance, then down a tankard or two.” While the MacAllens were a powerful clan, one could never have too many allies. “Da will be relieved to know that the Du
nnings will come to our aid should the MacRyans attack.”

  “If you had listened to me, we could have ridden on to the castle last night and delivered the news. We were already on MacAllen land and only had a short distance left to travel.” Brodie shook his head and clucked his tongue. “But you never listen to me. Sometimes I wonder why you bother taking me along.”

  “Stopping here was the right thing to do, and you know it. The horses are spent, and it is nearly midnight when we reached the edge of MacAllen land.” Not only was Logan exhausted, he believed it was safer to travel the rocky terrain in the daylight. Even if his cousin did not agree and was anxious to get home as soon as possible.

  Logan wiggled a brow as he shot Brodie a mischievous grin. “I know Jenna’s bed has been cold for nearly a fortnight, but just think how happy she will be when you do get back. Hell, I will be lucky if I see you again for a sennight.”

  “You should be so fortunate,” Brodie snorted.

  Logan never missed an opportunity to tease his cousin. Brodie was not only his best friend, but he was like the brother he never had. An only lad with seven sisters, Logan was pleased when his cousin came to live with them at the castle after his parents died. Genuinely happy for Brodie, Logan did not consider spending the rest of his life tied to one woman appealing. “You and Jenna have been planning your wedding since you were bairns. Do you ever wonder what it would be like with another woman?”

  “You are jealous because you dinna have a lass waiting for you, Logan,” Brodie snapped. “If you ask me, it is about time you settled down, took a wife, and started to think about giving your da an heir. That is if you plan to someday be chief of Clan MacAllen.”

  Logan kicked some dirt on the smoldering embers of the fire. “I dinna ask for your advice, and I am aware of my obligations to the clan.”

  The son of Laird and Lady MacAllen, Logan would someday replace his father as clan chieftain. With that responsibility came expectations of marriage, and Lord willing a male heir. It was an obligation his mother reminded him of daily. But his father was still a young, healthy man, so he felt there was no rush to tie himself down to one lass. Besides, he had not yet met a woman who suited his fancy. “Unlike you, I prefer to sample many lassies before I decide to put on the yolk.”