Autumn's Touch (Seasons of Fortitude Series Book 3)

by Elizabeth Rose

  “And she’s good at it, too,” added Rook. “She’s going to make me a blade next.”

  “Nay, I’m first,” said Reed. “She’s goin’ to make me a claymore.”

  “You’re both wrong. Winter promised me a new dirk,” said Rowen.

  “I’ll make blades for all of you,” said Winter, holding her hands in the air to stop her brothers from squabbling. “Just be patient. Lord Ravenscar, I’d like to request your permission to live here at Ravenscar for a short while.”

  “Winter, what are you saying?” asked Autumn. “Why would you want to live here?”

  “I would like to work in the forge with Wallace again,” said Winter, smiling at the blacksmith who stood at the back of the crowd with the rest of the townspeople.

  “I have a blacksmith at the castle,” said Benedict. “You can work with him instead. The town is no place for a lady.”

  “That doesn’t bother me,” Winter told them. “Wallace is struggling and I want to help him get back on his feet. I have him to thank for my skill with the forge, and want to repay his kindness. With all the trade ships that will be coming and going, I figure there will be many traders that will need not only blades, but armor, mail, and even horseshoes. With my help, his name will be known up and down the coast.”

  “Aye,” agreed Rowen. “Winter’s work is so bloody good that you’re going to have to fight off the men standing in line to buy her weapons.”

  “I dinna like the idea,” said Ross. “Winter, ye are a lady and need to act like one.”

  “Don’t worry, Father,” said Winter. “I will make the blades in secret and no one will know they were made by a girl.”

  “Ye’re a noblewoman,” her father continued to complain. “Ye should marry a lord and raise a family, no’ be playin’ with swords like a laddie.”

  “Autumn lived with the nuns and didn’t live like a noblewoman,” Winter pointed out.

  “I dug in the garden, too,” said Autumn, in her sister’s defense.

  “It is only a temporary situation, Father,” she told him. “I want to help bring the town of Ravenscar back to where it used to be.”

  “I can see it doesna matter what I say,” said Ross, throwing his hands in the air. “I think I should have had laddies instead of four lassies for all the trouble ye girls cause me.”

  “Our girls are turning out just fine,” said Annalyse, holding her husband’s hand.

  “That’s right,” said Benedict. “You should be very proud you have four strong daughters. I’ve learned from Autumn that we can all change and that nothing is impossible if we believe in ourselves.” He took Autumn’s hands in his and gazed into her eyes. “I would still be a dark and angry lord living like a beast if it wasn’t for her. Autumn is a healer in more ways than one. She healed not only my body but also my soul. Your daughter is very skilled, Laird Douglas, and I have to say that I consider myself a lucky man to have ever experienced Autumn’s Touch.”

  From the Author:

  I hope you have enjoyed Autumn’s Touch, Book 3 of my Seasons of Fortitude Series. If so, I would love if you left a review for me.

  Laying of the hands is something that has been around as far back as biblical times. Today, there is a form of healing known as Reiki that uses energy being channeled through the body. The energy is passed through one’s touch of the hands, and helps to activate a body’s natural healing abilities to cure one of an illness. In my story, Autumn’s healing touch is activated by a lightning strike.

  The herbs mentioned in my story were all found in medieval times. Rue is the herb that priests used as a holy water sprinkler. It is also an herb that has triggered adverse reactions in some, such as hives.

  I love to garden and have my own herb garden. I personally haven’t had any reactions to my rue plant, and it is a monster of a plant that keeps growing larger every year. (That, and the comfrey, too!) I’ve used a healing balm made from the comfrey from my garden and it really does help in the healing process.

  One last thing I want to mention is something I experienced in my yard the summer I was writing this book. It touched my heart so much that I had to include it as part of my story. I live in the Midwest, and had a cardinal’s nest in my arbor leading into my secret garden. As I wrote this book in my outdoor office, I watched each day, holding my cell phone up to the nest to take a photo each morning to see inside the nest. First there was one speckled egg and before I knew it, there were four.

  Three of the eggs hatched, and one just disappeared altogether. The mother cardinal got to know my husband and me. We would walk through the clematis-covered arbor several times a day going to and from our garden. She would stay in the nest and let us pass even though our head was mere inches from where her babies would be born.

  Well, one egg hatched, and then there were three babies. I was so excited, I felt like their grandmother, watching and protecting them from predators and worrying about them in the sun, the rain, and the windy weather. (The nest was barely held up by anything and it became pretty windy a few times.) I had researched cardinals and knew she wouldn’t sit on the eggs until they were all laid. I also calculated when they would hatch – on July 4th. Sure enough, the babies were born on the Fourth of July. Therefore, I named the babies, Yankee, Doodle, and Dandy. (And the egg that didn’t survive was called Dud.)

  I even took videos and shared them on Facebook of the little birds as they grew. I found it hard to write when I was constantly chasing away nasty sparrows trying to get to the nest and worrying, on a few occasions, when the babies were hungry and neither mother nor father was seen for hours.

  Sadly, one day when I took my morning photo, I realized that Dandy had disappeared! There was no trace of a dead bird or any evidence of a predator having been there at all. I sadly learned to accept it and concentrated on the other two babies, Yankee and Doodle. They were celebrities on Facebook and everyone could barely wait each day to see what photo or video I would post.

  Both the mother and father fed the birds, and they didn’t fear me at all.

  Yankee and Doodle were getting feathers and were only days away from leaving the nest, but not quite ready yet. I went out the day after a storm, seeing the father cardinal on the trellis. I waited until he left and quickly sneaked over with my cell phone to get my morning photo.

  I almost cried when the photo showed NO birds in the nest at all. Once again, there was no evidence of a dead bird or feathers anywhere. To this day, I have no idea what happened to Yankee, Doodle, and Dandy, since the nest looked to be untouched and still intact. All I know is that they did not survive.

  It broke my heart and everyone’s hearts on Facebook, too. We were all so involved in the lives of these birds, that is was heartbreaking not to see the babies grow up and leave the nest.

  I still see the mother and father cardinal and hear them calling to me every day. They even come by to sit on the fence and look at the arbor that still contains the nest in memory of those cute little birds.

  Yankee, Doodle, and Dandy will live on in my memory, my heart, and now in my story as well. They didn’t have cardinals in medieval England, so I substituted it with an English robin that is different from the American one. That is why the robin in my book does not have bright blue eggs.

  If you missed the first book of the Seasons of Fortitude Series, it is Highland Spring, and the second book is Summer’s Reign. Watch for the last book of the series in winter of 2017, called Winter’s Flame, now on preorder.

  And if you’d like to read about the girls’ brothers, (cousins) Rowen, Rook, and Reed, you can do so in the Legendary Bastards of the Crown Series.

  I have included some links to books in some of my series as well as a few excerpts for your enjoyment.

  Thank you,

  Elizabeth Rose

  The books in the Legendary Bastards of the Crown series are:

  Destiny’s Kiss – Series Prequel

  Restless Sea Lord – Book 1

  Ruthless Knig
ht – Book 2

  Reckless Highlander – Book 3

  Please visit my website at http://elizabethrosenovels.com to find out more about my books. There are other authors by the same name, but you’ll know my books by the rose on the cover by my name. You can also follow me on Twitter @ElizRoseNovels, Bookbub, or Facebook, Elizabeth Rose – Author, (don’t forget the dash.)

  Here are more of my medieval series you might be interested in:

  Daughters of the Dagger Series:

  (Book Trailer Video)

  Prequel

  Ruby – Book 1

  Sapphire – Book 2

  Amber – Book 3

  Amethyst – Book 4

  This is followed by my Scottish Madman MacKeefe series, with the first book being about the girls’ brother, Onyx – Book 1, who they thought was dead.

  Aidan – Book 2, is next, followed by Ian – Book 3.

  Barons of the Cinque Ports Series:

  The Baron’s Quest

  The Baron’s Bounty

  The Baron’s Destiny

  The Legacy of the Blade Series:

  Prequel

  Lord of the Blade

  Lady Renegade

  Lord of Illusion

  Lady of the Mist

  The Elemental Series:

  The Dragon and the Dreamwalker Book 1: Fire

  The Duke and the Dryad Book 2: Earth

  The Sword and the Sylph Book 3: Air

  The Sheik and the Siren Book 4: Water

  Excerpt from Destiny’s Kiss

  (Prequel to Legendary Bastards of the Crown Series)

  Lady Annalyse Granville was sure to go straight to hell. Clad in her plain, rough-hewn brown gown with her head covered by a white wimple, she clutched her long woolen cloak around her body, shivering from the winter cold. Purposely pausing in the entranceway of her father’s great hall, she’d stopped directly under the holy bough – or what was known to many as the kissing bough.

  Having been raised in the abbey although she wasn’t a nun, Annalyse shared the morals and customs of the women of the cloth but hated every minute of it. However, even with her sheltered life she was wise to the legends of the kissing bough and knew that any lady standing under it from Christmastide all the way to Twelfth Night would receive a kiss, or perhaps several, from any knight or passing lord.

  Most noblewomen her age were already married or at least betrothed. Annalyse was twenty years of age and, sadly, had never even experienced a kiss from a man. This was because of her curse of being born the second twin – a position that tagged her as a spawn of the devil. The consequences of her birth made her feared and undesirable to everyone. Of course, it was naught but an addlepated superstition, but her father believed it. That is why she’d been sent to live with the nuns. No one wanted their life cursed by an evil second-born twin bringing them bad luck. Matter of fact, no one wanted a second-born twin at all.

  She hated superstition since it ruined her life. If it hadn’t been for her ill luck, she’d be here celebrating Christmas with the rest of her family, as was her right for being born a noble. But instead of being treated with respect and honor for being the noblewoman she truly was, others acted as if she had the plague and went out of their way to avoid her.

  If the nuns had known of her whereabouts tonight, they would tell her she had no right to be in a hall full of knights that were all well in their cups on this cold winter’s eve. Annalyse shook her head. It no longer mattered because she didn’t care. Her presence here tonight was for a reason. Her twin sister, Gabrielle, had sent her a missive and it had sounded so urgent that she’d daringly sneaked out of the abbey and traveled unescorted to the borderlands during the night so she wouldn’t let her sister down. Her actions tonight had been dangerous, reckless, and bold, and it hadn’t stopped with her journey here.

  Looking up to the kissing bough hanging right above her head, her heartbeat resounded in her ears so loudly she was sure others could hear it, too. Never had she thought she’d ever be standing under a kissing bough and the idea excited her. The bough was a ball interwoven with twigs and fir tree greenery, decorated with an apple, candles, and berries. The abundance of holly decorating it would surely bring good luck.

  Then she saw the ivy above her head and a knot formed in her stomach. Everyone knew ivy was supposed to be kept outdoors and not brought across the threshold because that meant death. Then again, perhaps that was naught more than a silly superstition. Dangling precariously from the bottom of the kissing bough was a fresh sprig of green mistletoe with several small, white berries. This was something she’d never seen at the abbey. The church didn’t allow mistletoe within its holy walls since it was associated with pagan customs and Druids.

  Once again, Annalyse felt as if she were doing something naughty by standing here. Not just because of the traditions, but because her sister needed her and she was purposely stalling. Gabrielle, being the first-born twin, had experienced kisses under the mistletoe many times in her life and Annalyse decided now it was her turn. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Even though Gabrielle was heavy with child and her message sounded urgent, she would have to wait just a little longer.

  “Och, my lady, I didna even see ye standin’ there.”

  Annalyse’s eyes dropped from the kissing bough to see a Scot with a tankard in his hand heading in her direction. His broad chest was large and foreboding, while his hair boasted the color of the fiery hot flames of hell. Not that she’d know what the flames of hell looked like, since she’d been raised by nuns and attended church several times a day. If the nuns hadn’t been superstitious, they would have accepted her into the Order. But they didn’t want The Almighty scowling down at them for bringing a cursed second-born twin into their Order and so she remained an outcast even in the eyes of God.

  The Scot’s craggy brows lifted and she saw a playful twinkle in his dangerous green eyes. Scots were to be feared and this one looked to be an abundance of trouble. He smiled at her. That told her he didn’t know who she was or he’d be keeping his distance. With a saffron leine half-open she could see the hairs on his chest peeking out from between the leather laces of his tunic. A dark green plaid wrapped around his waist and was thrown over one shoulder and pinned with a metal badge.

  She didn’t dare even to breathe. Never had she ever been so close to one of these savages before and wondered if she were in danger. After all, the Scots were enemies of the English. What could this man possibly be doing in her father’s castle? Her gaze shot around the room as she desperately scanned the area, looking for her sister. Gabrielle was nowhere to be seen, only ladies and knights standing under more kissing boughs. The women giggled and the men pulled them into their arms and kissed them in front of everyone. This wasn’t what she expected to find at all and it would do naught to help her out of this awkward position.

  “I suppose ye’re waitin’ for a kiss as well, my lady. Well, I willna disappoint ye.”

  Before she had a chance to object, the Scotsman pulled her up against his chest with one hand while he cradled his drink in the other.

  Excerpt from Aidan – Book 2

  (MadMan MacKeefe Series)

  The Scottish Highlands. Late summer 1362.

  Only a madman would use a stone for his pillow. The Stone of Destiny to be precise.

  Aidan MacKeefe tossed restlessly in his sleep, having used the Stone of Destiny as his pillow for the last six months now, hoping to have prophetic dreams. Supposedly, the stone was used back in the days of the Bible, and Jacob had used this exact stone and had dreams of angels.

  Aidan was in the middle of a dream. Mist surrounded him in his little, stone cottage in the MacKeefe camp. He couldn’t see anything in the darkened room, but then the door opened, and in the bright light – he saw an angel. The angel walked toward him, covered with a long, white, hooded cloak, her fiery-red tresses falling in ringlets down to her shoulders. Stopping in front of him, she peeked out from under the hood. While he couldn’t se
e her face well in the dark, he could still see her wide, green eyes that reminded him of the color of the moors on a warm summer’s day. Her gaze steadied upon him and she lit a candle in her hand, illuminating her face beneath the hood.

  Her skin was fair, like alabaster, and a smattering of fine freckles trailed down her nose and spread to her rosy cheeks. Aye, she was a bonnie lass. And though he couldn’t see her body under the robe, he was sure it matched her beauty. He wanted her badly. Then she smiled at him and her laugh rang out across the room like the sweet song of a small meadow pipit, bringing with it a fragile innocence to its tone. She was a fine angel. A perfect Scottish angel. He wanted naught more than to reach out his hands and touch her, but something weighted him down and he could not move.

  As she reached out to him, he saw a strawberry birthmark on the inside of her arm that looked like . . . a skull. He felt himself jerk away from her touch, and then she turned away from him and nodded toward the door. Aidan’s attention focused across the small room. To his horror, he saw English soldiers following her into the cottage with their weapons drawn.

  Aidan tried to cry out for help, but couldn’t speak. He tried to reach for his sword at his side, but couldn’t move. Then his eyes scanned down her body and, to his horror, he saw sticking out from the back of her robe right by her doup – a tail. A furry, red tail! It reached out and brushed across his face. In his only form of defense he leaned forward . . . and bit it.

  The sickening screech of an animal cried out, pulling him from his slumber. His eyes popped open, bringing him out of the dream and he sat up quickly, not knowing what was happening.

  Then he saw Reid, his pet red squirrel scurrying off his chest, scolding him, running in circles around the room. The door opened just then, but instead of his dream angel, his friend, Ian, stood there with a dour expression upon his face.