by Rue Allyn
Someone slapped Haven’s back. “Move, man. We may still save her.”
Haven rushed forward. Edward and Michael lifted the friar away from Gennie. Haven pulled her to his chest. She was so pale. He bent his head to her breast. Could he hear a faint flutter?
Someone tried to move his hands away. “Nay!”
“Aye, sir, ye must let me see to her.” Gwyneth’s voice spoke soft in his ear as someone translated her Welsh.
“She’s not dead. I will not let you take her from me.” He tried to deny the collapse of his world.
“That she is not, sir. But she will be, if you do not let me see to her,” the interpretation continued.
“Not dead?” He looked down at Gennie. The top of her dress bore a great damp spot and her face was wet with his tears.
“Aye, sir. But she is not breathing right, so you must let me tend her.”
“Yes of course. Please, Gwyneth.”
“Put her on the bed, and I shall do what I can.”
Haven nodded. “So shall I.” He turned to the prayer bench.
Epilogue
Summer 1283
Two Hills Keep, Wales
Edward Plantagenet, King of all England and Duke of Gascony, looked down at the tiny black-haired child.
“’Tis a fine godson you have given me, Lady Gennie.”
“’Tis a fine godfather you make for Haven de Sessions’s first child.”
“Aye, by my oath this child will never suffer want.”
Gennie chuckled. “I appreciate your largesse, sire, but you will spoil him.”
“That is my privilege as his king and godfather.”
“And ’tis my privilege to tell you honestly that many Welsh children still suffer because of your obstinacy toward their parents.”
“I have never regretted winning a wager more, Lady Genvieve, than when I won the bet that gave me your promise of constant truth.”
“Aye, ’tis often that I am glad you did win.”
Edward arched an eyebrow at her.
“How many other women dare speak their minds to the King of England?”
Edward tossed his head back and laughed.
“What is so funny?” With Thomas beside him, Haven de Sessions, Earl of Twynn, stepped into his son’s nursery and took in the smiling faces of his wife and king.
“May I hold my brother, please?” Thomas reached for the babe without waiting.
“Oui, Thomas, you may carry him back to his cradle.” The boy smiled.
“And then I may rock him?” Eagerness lit his face.
“Only if you do so gently,” admonished Haven.
“I will, Sir Haven.”
Gennie grinned, pleased with the life that had come to her firstborn child. Under Haven’s care the boy grew strong and honorable. She was very proud of them both.
“Now, what were you laughing at, my liege?” Haven queried again, refusing to be denied his chance to join the fun.
“Your wife dares to prick at my pride.”
“She’s been telling you the truth again, then,” Haven said.
“Without gilt.”
“Too bad, sire. The truth should always be gilded with honest loyalty.”
Gennie chuckled.
Edward shrugged. “’Tis refreshing to hear your wife’s truth after all the lies of court. Mayhap that is why I seek her out.”
“And I thought you told me you wanted to apologize.”
Haven’s king frowned at him.
“You have been in here since near midday,” Haven continued. “’Tis now close on eventide, and you haven’t managed the words yet?”
“’Tis no easy thing for a king to admit he was mistaken in the character of a lone woman.” Edward looked straight at Gennie. “But I was, and am, most sincerely sorry for it.”
“That is most prettily said, sire, and I accept. However, I must admit, I have always wondered what I did that caused both you and my husband to suspect that I was the source of Roger’s treason.”
The king coughed, and Haven looked down at his own feet. “’Twas nothing you did, Gennie,” her husband confessed.
“What then?”
“’Twas what Roger said to me on the scaffold the day he was hanged.” Haven related the words his friend had uttered just before dying. How he did not trust Gennie, and that she knew the man who had convinced him to try to kill the king.
Stunned, Gennie sat on the nearest stool. “Roger did not trust me? Why?”
Haven knelt beside her. “Who can say, Gennie? He was a very different man at the end than the friend I knew.”
“And you took his word, the word of a traitor, as true?”
“Gennie…”
Edward interrupted. “You must remember, milady, that we had known Roger Dreyford most of his life. Prior to his treason, he had been a most loyal and dutiful vassal. None of us knew you. Roger’s was the only word we had.”
When Edward fell silent, Haven continued. “That does not excuse our distrust, Gennie. All I can say is that I am most heartily sorry and regret the pain my belief in Roger’s words has caused us all.”
“As am I, Lady Genvieve,” echoed the king.
Gennie sat in quiet thought for several, moments. “I do understand, Haven.” She stroked his cheek. “I trust you completely, as you do me.” Then she looked to the king. “Sire, if you are truly sorry, you will demonstrate your sincerity and change your policy against allowing the Welsh to live near or in your castles. Not just here in Two Hills Keep, but throughout Wales.”
Haven beamed at her.
Edward glanced at Haven. “She is relentless. How do you tolerate it?”
Haven returned his king’s glance with all innocence. “Sire, I am her most true and perfect knight. ’Tis she who must tolerate me.”
The king laughed and slapped Haven on the shoulder. “Let us go and get that supper you spoke of. Admiring my godson inspires an appetite.”
Gennie smiled after them. “I will be down soon, husband.”
“As you will, wife. I know I am no longer first in your affections.”
That night, as Haven lay with his arms wrapped about Gennie, her voice came at him in the darkness.
“You are first in my heart.”
His heart sang so loudly, it filled his throat to closing. He swallowed around the lump of joy that had settled there. “I know, Gennie. I but teased you earlier. Although truly, I do sometimes envy the amount of time our son gets of you.”
“I may know a way to soothe the beast of envy from you.”
“Indeed?” He grinned though he knew she could not see it. He felt certain that she shared his happiness as thorough as he shared hers.
Her hands stroked down his chest to his hips.
“Indeed, yes. Allow me to show you.”
“As you will wife.”
To The Reader
As is the case with many novels that have their basis in history, this book contains some historical inaccuracies. Some are so significant that I feel I must mention them here. First, the dispute Edward I had with the Pope over taxation of the clergy is historical fact. However Edward did not enact any laws on this policy until 1294, roughly twelve years after the time of Haven and Gennie’s story.
Second, unwilling to fight a third Welsh war, Edward issued the repressive Statute of Rhuddlan in 1284. This statute created a series of new earldoms in the western portion of Wales (that portion not already governed by the Marcher Lords). The statute modified Welsh law, bringing it closer in line with English legal code. Most important to Haven and Gennie’s story, The Statute of Rhuddlan established the existence of specifically English boroughs in and around Welsh castles and forbade the Welsh people to “inhabit such boroughs or to carry arms within their walls” (“A Brief History of Wales”, www.britannia.com). Once more, I have altered the sequence of history in hope of heightened narrative interest. The Statute of Rhuddlan’s principles, while not yet general law in 1282, provided significant conflict between Gennie and Haven, j
ust as Edward’s taxation of the clergy provided motive for his assassination. As for that assassination attempt, it is a complete fiction. There is no historical record of any such attempt on Edward’s life by any member of the clergy.
At this point, I feel it is important to mention that only three characters referred to in this book—Edward I, his secretary Bek, and his master builder St. George (whom we never truly meet)—have any basis in historical fact. I take full responsibility for any inaccuracies in my representation of their characters as I do for all the events, actions and settings herein.
I hope you have enjoyed Haven and Gennie’s tale. If you would like to send me your comments, please contact me through my website, www.rueallyn.com.
About the Author
Author of historical, contemporary, and erotic romances, Susan Charnley (now writing as Rue Allyn) fell in love with happily ever after the day she heard her first story. She is deliriously married to her sweetheart of many years and loves to hear from readers about their favorite books and real life adventures. Learn more about Rue at www.rueallyn.com.
No one ever said winning a Goddess’s love was easy…
Goddess of Eire
© 2012 Janeen O’Kerry
Parlan, the new high king of Ireland, has been chosen by his people. Now he must be seen as a king in the eyes of the gods of ancient Ireland. He must take the goddess Eriu as his wife for one night, but he quickly realizes that one night will never be enough. Yet even a king must work for the love of a goddess. And when his arrogance opens his country up to a terrible curse, Parlan must depend on Eriu’s mercy to save them all.
Despite her temptation to give in to the strong and handsome mortal king, her pride does not allow Eriu to let Parlan take her as his wife. Yet as the goddess of the land, Eriu’s fate is tied directly to that of the country the Black Dragon is destroying. Although she has vowed to help Parlan defeat the Dragon, her power is weakening and Parlan is left to fight a battle with the odds, gods, and even his own men against him.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Goddess of Eire:
“The new king awaits you, Lady Eriu,” said the goddess Brighid, as she walked through the sunlit meadow with her red wool gown trailing over the lush green grass and the bright yellow primroses. “I wonder if your anticipation is anywhere near as great as his.”
Eriu looked up from her seat on the sun-warmed boulder and smiled faintly at her sister goddess. “He cannot be a king if I do not find him worthy. No doubt his apprehension is great indeed.”
Brighid stood before her and took Eriu’s hands in her own. “My dear sister, I do not mean simply whether he will become the next High King or no. I am thinking of the ritual itself. Does it truly mean no more to you than the mere appointment of yet another leader for the world of Men?”
Gently Eriu withdrew her hands and gazed out over the meadow to the tall deep forest of oak and holly that surrounded it. As it always was here in the Otherworld, that mystical plane of existence where the gods and goddesses made their home, the season was springtime and the weather sunlit and pleasant. She stood up and took a few slow steps across the soft thick grass, smoothing her green wool gown as she paced.
“I have performed the kingmaking ritual countless times,” Eriu said. “From the very first days, when the gods and goddesses began to teach mortals to live as humans and not as animals, the task that fell to me as the Goddess of the Land was to confer Sovereignty on the king—to show his people in the clearest terms that this man was worthy to be their king.”
Brighid nodded, taking a step towards her. “And since the king is no less than the husband and protector of the Land, it is only right that no other but the Goddess of the Land—the Goddess of Eire—should be the one to approve him.”
“Indeed. I have never turned away from this duty. Each time a new king is chosen, I leave the Otherworld and step into the world of Men…there to test the man they have put forward and decide whether he is worthy of being a king.”
“Yet you do this in the most intimate manner possible for any woman, Lady Eriu—for any woman, goddess or no. If the man passes your test, you take him as your husband for that night.”
Eriu turned and smiled at Brighid, calmly meeting her gaze. “So I do. A goddess can show no greater approval for any mortal man than to take him as a mate, even if only for a night. No one can doubt that such a man is worthy to be king.”
“But, Eriu—I have often wondered how difficult this is for you. As you say, you have done this since the beginning and that is a very long time. I know what a gentle and caring spirit you truly are. Is it enough for you to simply take a mate for one night and then coolly turn your back and walk away from him, never to see him again? Does this not affect your heart?”
Eriu started to answer then paused. She glanced up at the slanting rays of the sun as it began to approach the trees and mountains to the west.
“I cannot allow my heart to be a part of the kingmaking ritual,” she said at last. “If I should allow myself to fall in love with any Man, how could I ever lie with another to make that one a king?” She shook her head. “I vowed as the Goddess of the Land to do this thing for the Land where Men live, and I will keep that vow.”
“Yet it seems to me too much to ask of any woman to set aside her own need for love and companionship in order to serve the world of Men. Perhaps you have done this thing long enough. Perhaps it is time—”
“I do not perform the kingmaking ritual only to help the people of the natural world,” Eriu said quickly, her eyes narrowing. “I do it for love of the Land itself, to make certain it always has a worthy guardian and protector.
“I am no warrior. A sword would cut me down as quickly as it would any Man. I cannot protect the Land itself. But I can find the Men who will—and so I do.”
“So you do. And I understand why,” Brighid said. “But even a goddess has need of a mate and a companion who will be there for more than just one night—of someone to whom she can give the love that is now saved only for the Land. And a broken heart can be as deadly as any sword.”
Brighid took a step toward Eriu. “We have all spent time walking among the people of the natural world. We, too, may be drawn by the beauty of the Men. We may well choose to spend a night or a year or even a lifetime with a mortal mate, and then simply return to the Otherworld when that lifetime draws to a close as it must for each one of them. Even a goddess cannot prevent that.”
“Indeed she cannot,” Eriu said quietly. “And you are right, Lady Brighid, I do hear the calling of my heart, and I do wonder what it might be like to have the love and companionship of one of those fine kings for more than just one night. Yet to do so, I would have to turn my back on the Land that also has my love. How could I do such a thing, my sister? How could I ever do such a thing?”
Brighid had no answer for her. Eriu lifted the hem of her dark green gown, turned away from the setting sun and began to walk toward the east, toward the world of Men.
Nothing—not the wild west, kidnapping, enslavement, or mutual enemies—can keep them apart.
This Savage Heart
© 2012 Patricia Hagan
Though Julie Marshall and blockade runner Captain Derek Arnhardt avowed their love in Souls Aflame, fickle fate cruelly tore them apart before they could be wed.
Brought together again on a wagon train heading West, Julie is astonished to learn that Derek is the wagon master leading the expedition.
Their love renewed, they plan to marry when the wagon train reaches its destination in Arizona, but once more fate has other plans. When the wagon train is attacked by Indians, Derek is captured and Julie is kidnapped by the sinister gun runner.
Unable to live without each other, Julie and Derek brave capture, torture, and the very untamed land that stands between them and their happily ever after.
Enjoy the following excerpt for This Savage Heart:
Julie looked up to see Myles staring at her and started walking toward him. H
e hated that she had insisted on keeping the little wagon they had started out on and driving it herself. Both he and Teresa had assured her she would be more than welcome to share the Conestoga he had bought as soon as they got married, but Julie said newlyweds should be alone. Besides, she was capable of handling the wagon by herself. Derek had not liked it, and they’d had some words over her insistence, but Myles stayed out of arguments between Derek and his sister.
Julie worriedly greeted him, “I don’t like the idea of our being stuck over here, away from the others, if that storm decides to break. Do you think we’ll get across today?”
Just as he was about to answer, there was a distant cheer, and they turned to see that the Field wagon had made it across the churning river. Immediately a rider on an exhausted horse started back through the water toward them, and Myles said worriedly, “I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”
“It’s Thomas.” Julie nodded toward the rider. He was shivering with cold, his pant legs soaked with the icy waters of the Colorado River.
“Get going and be careful,” he said to Myles. “Let Teresa take the reins and you hold onto the guide rope. If you stay in a straight line and hold steady, the horses’ hooves and the wagon wheels can stay on the bottom. Veer off the least little bit and you’ll get caught in the current.”
Myles hurried to his wagon to tell Teresa, and Julie turned toward her own wagon. But Thomas called to her, “Get in your brother’s wagon, Julie, or Mrs. Thatcher’s. We’re leaving yours behind. Arnhardt says if the storm doesn’t break tonight, we can come back for it in the morning.”
“But what if we can’t come back?” she protested. “That storm looks bad. And we might wake up to find snow on the ground. I’m not losing my wagon and my team!”
Thomas shook his head. “I’m sorry, Julie. There’s no time to argue. Those are his orders. Now please, just get in another wagon. If there’s anything important in yours, tell me and I’ll get it for you now.”