“We’ll talk about this later,” said Gwen, putting her arm around Nairnie. “Right now, we have a lot of catching-up to do. How long can you stay?”
“My work is done with the girls,” said Nairnie. “So, I have all the time in the world.”
“The girls?” asked Gwen.
“She’s talking about my sisters, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter,” said Rowen. She’s looked after them as a guardian to each of them until they were married.”
“That’s right,” said Nairnie, nodding her head. “And now that I found my true family, I’m no’ about to stop doin’ what I do best.”
“Nairnie, you’re getting up in years,” Rowen reminded her. “You’ve been through a lot, and it might be better if you leave the search to the men and stay here with Gwen and the children instead.”
“Stay here? With me? Nay, I’m going as well,” said Gwen. “Brody, don’t even try to talk me out of it. Now Nairnie, let’s go to the cottage and get a bite to eat. I’ll tell you all about the children, and you can get to know them.”
“All right, but they’d better no’ try to leave without us,” said Nairnie, flashing a warning glance to the men.
“We wouldn’t dream of it,” said Rowen with a chuckle.
Brody looked over to Rowen after the women walked away. “We wouldn’t dream of it? You’re not suggesting we take women along on our search for three nasty pirates are you?”
“Of course not,” said Rowen, flashing a smile. “I was just giving you time to think of a way to tell them the news that we’re leaving without them.”
“Me?” asked Brody, not anxious to go up against two head-strong women. “I can’t do it.”
“Well, you’d better think of something to say to them. Now come on, I’m starved. I hope you have something to eat in that little cottage of yours.”
Brody shook his head and followed Rowen, wondering how his young bride and the old woman were going to feel about this mission once they hit their first storm at sea.
From the Author:
I hope you enjoyed Pirate of the Mist – Book 1 in my Second in Command Series. I’d love if you left a review for me.
As you’ve probably guessed from reading the epilogue, I have a pirate trilogy planned for some time in the latter part of 2018 where you’ll be introduced to Gwen’s pirate brothers, Mardon, Aaron and Tristan.
I created my Second in Command Series because my readers wanted to know more about some of my secondary characters. This series will include intriguing secondary characters from any of my series across the board, whether it is a contemporary, medieval, western or paranormal novel. Off the top of my head, I can tell you that there has been an overwhelming request for Claude’s story from The Baron’s Destiny – Book 3 of my Barons of the Cinque Ports Series. If you remember, Claude was the hero and heroine’s son.
So, Claude will have his own story eventually, and so will Orrick, the sorcerer from the Legacy of the Blade Series. I would love to know who you would like to see get their own story next. You can leave your comment in a review or anywhere on my website at http://elizabethrosenovels.com. I love to hear from my readers. Please look me up on facebook. You can also follow me on twitter at ElizRoseNovels.
Thank you!
Elizabeth Rose
Excerpt from Autumn’s Touch – Book 3
(Seasons of Fortitude Series)
“Lord Ravenscar will see you now,” he announced as if she’d requested an audience with the beast. The guard slapped his hand against her back, propelling her forward into the room. Then Nelek stepped back out into the corridor and shut the door, leaving her alone in the dark lair of the Beast of Ravenscar.
She stood there silently, listening to the loud drumming of her heart reverberating in her ears. It took her eyes a moment to get accustomed to the nearly pitch black room. The only light came from the glowing embers of the fire at the hearth. Or were those the glowing eyes of the beast?
“Who are you?” came a deep growl from somewhere in the dark. “Come closer to the hearth so I can see your face.”
“I – I’m Lady Autumn of Mablethorpe,” she told him. Her body shivered from the cold, wet cloak clinging to her skin, but she was reluctant to remove it. After all, she was standing in a darkened room with one of the most infamous men in all of England. She remembered Lester telling her that Ravenscar liked to take young virgins to his bed. Nay, she would not make it easier for him to take advantage of her by discarding her outer garment no matter how wet and cold it felt against her body.
“Come to my bedside,” he murmured, making her palms sweat although her teeth chattered, threatening to shake right out of her mouth. She took a step forward, but then anger filled her being and she stopped in her tracks. She wouldn’t let this happen.
“Nay,” she said, not willing to be naught but a puppet of this horrible man. “I’ll not be another of your toys for you to take to your bed.”
She heard what sounded like a rumble from his throat. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark to reveal the silhouette of the beast lying on the bed. Long curtains hung down on three sides of the bed, pulled back to provide one opening only.
“I said . . . come here!” His words were forced, almost as if he were holding back great anger - or perhaps holding back pain.
“Are you ill?” she asked, taking a step closer. “Or mayhap injured?” The caring side of her outshone her fear and she moved slowly toward the bed. “Is that why your man asked if I was a healer?” She cocked her head as she took one step toward the bed, trying to see the features of his shadowed face.
“Well, are you a healer or not?” he asked, his voice trailing off as he said it.
She took a second to swallow before she answered, wondering if it was better to lie or tell the truth in this situation. “I am,” she answered bravely.
“Then heal me,” he commanded.
“Pardon me?” That took her by surprise, relieving her that she’d been brought here for a purpose and not just to be his next folly. “I don’t even know what is ailing you, my lord, and neither do I have my bag of healing herbs and balms with me.” She continued to make her way closer to the bed.
“I’ve got the plague,” he answered directly.
She stopped in her tracks. The plague? Had she heard him correctly? God, she hoped not.
“The plague,” she repeated aloud. She had treated many wounded men in the past two years but had not seen nor heard of another outbreak of the plague in England at this time. “Are you sure?”
“God’s teeth, woman, stop asking questions and start healing me now.” The man was rude and domineering.
“How do you expect me heal you if I cannot even see you?” she retorted, tired of this game of hide-and-seek. She turned and made her way to the fire, picking up the iron poker and stabbing at the embers until they glowed brighter.
“Nay! Put that down,” he warned, but she didn’t listen.
“What are you afraid of, my lord?” she asked, finding it interesting that a moment ago she was the one afraid of him and now the tables seemed to have turned.
“I don’t want a fire.”
“Well, I do. Thanks to the men you sent to kidnap me, my cloak is soaking wet from the rain and I am chilled.” She reached down and picked up a log and placed it atop the flames. Then she repeated her action, poking at the embers and waving her hand until a flame caught and lit up the room. The warmth of the heat felt good and she contemplated removing her wet cloak. “That’s better,” she said, turning around with the poker still in her hand.
She jerked backward and about jumped out of her skin to find Ravenscar standing right behind her.
“I said not to do that!” Ravenscar towered over her with shoulder-length black hair and dark, sunken eyes that looked tired and weary. He had a strong jawline and thin lips. And across his right cheek, he had a scar that ran from his ear all the way to his chin.
“I – I didn’t mean to upset you,” she stuttered,
taking a step backward until the heels of her shoes touched the hearth. “I was just trying to get warm.” Fear flowed back through her body as she looked at the reflection of the flames behind her flickering in the dark depths of his black eyes.
His chest was broad and firm and also bare. He wore only a pair of braies, stretched tightly across his nether region. His long legs and feet were bare as well. If she hadn’t been so frightened of the horrible stories she’d heard of him, she would have taken a moment to drink in his manly beauty. Instead, she remained guarded, already plotting in her head a way to escape. He raised his hand to reach for her. In return she raised the hot poker to protect herself, using it as a sword.
“Don’t touch me or I’ll scald you with this hot iron, I swear I will,” she warned, hoping he couldn’t decipher the fear in her voice.
“You haven’t had it in the fire long enough for it to get hot,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Yes. Yes, I have. It’ll burn you,” she threatened, holding it out and, at the same time, trying to back away. She felt the hot flames warming her backside. If she retreated further, she’d be in the fire.
“I don’t have time for games,” he spat. Reaching out with one hand, his fist closed around the poker. He pulled it hard and she stumbled forward, landing with her open palms splayed against his bare chest.
She could feel his muscles under his skin and they were as hard as a rock. But that’s not all she felt. His skin was searing hot under her palms. She pushed away and when she did, the poker fell from his hand to the ground with a loud clanking noise.
“You are burning up with fever!” she gasped.
“I told you. I’m . . . dying.” His hooded eyes made him look as if he were going to pass out.
Excerpt from Restless Sea Lord – Book 1
(Legendary Bastards of the Crown Series)
“I’m on my way.” Rowen walked around the corner of the building and when he did, he thought he saw movement in the shadows. Someone had been eavesdropping on their conversation and was hiding behind the rain barrel.
He ripped his sword from his side, reaching around the barrel with his free hand, and yanked the eavesdropper out into the open. He planned on slitting the man’s throat but stopped when he felt the small size of his arms. The sneak’s hood fell back revealing his face. Rowen swore under his breath when he realized it wasn’t a man at all but rather the witch lady from inside the tavern.
“Damn you!” he spat. “How long have you been hiding there?” He’d been so distracted by thoughts of his sister that he hadn’t even noticed the wench had followed him. This wasn’t good. If she’d heard their entire conversation, she could ruin everything.
“Let me go, Rowen the Restless,” she said, struggling in his grip.
“You know who I am?”
“I didn’t need to hear you and your brothers to figure it out. I saw your birds.”
Damn. Rowen knew those birds were going to give them trouble someday. His brothers had been way too careless. “You know too much,” he growled.
“Lady Cordelia, are you back here?” Her guard came around the corner. Just when Rowen was sure she was going to shout out, he did the only thing he could to shut her up. He pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his and kissed her hard.
“Lady Cordelia?” asked the guard, stopping in his tracks. “Are you all right?”
Rowen heard the sound of shouting and the war cries of his brothers and their armies, realizing the fools must have thought his kissing the wench was the signal to attack. Well, now that the plan was in action, he had no choice but to join them in their ploy.
Spinning on his heel, he hit the guard in the head with the hilt of his sword, sending the man sprawling on the ground.
“Nay!” Cordelia cried out. Rowen pulled her out of the way as a dagger whizzed past her ear and embedded itself into the rain barrel. Water spouted out, hitting the guard in the face. The man’s eyes opened and he sputtered, hurrying to get to his knees.
“God’s eyes, I don’t have time to protect you now,” Rowen said, kicking the sword out of the guard’s hand and then turning around to meet one of the king’s soldiers head on. Swiping his sword forward, he sank it into the soldier’s chest before the man could do the same to him. Cordelia screamed at seeing all the blood. She was going to ruin everything! “Keep your mouth shut unless you want to lose your head,” he warned, this time blocking her with his body as his brother, Reed, tossed a guard through the air. The man landed at their feet, and Cordelia peeked out from behind him and screamed again.
“Sorry about that,” called out Reed. “I didna see the lassie there.”
“You’ve got a girl?” shouted Rook, taking down two guards with ease. “This isn’t the time for that, you fool. Do something with her.”
“Just do your job and get the guards away from the cart and let me worry about the wench,” he spat, seeing a soldier running toward him with his sword drawn. Dressed the way she was, looking like an old hag, no one was going to think a noblewoman was right in the midst of the battle. And they wouldn’t care if a peasant was killed in the fight.
Brody climbed into the driver’s seat of the cart and waved his arm through the air to get Rowen’s attention, while his brothers kept the rest of the soldiers at bay. They had to leave now if they were to have any chance at all of getting the goods to the ship and away from the coast without being caught.
“Go,” he shouted, signaling Brody who slapped the reins and started the horses moving forward. The battle was still in full swing and he couldn’t just leave the wench there unprotected. Besides, she’d heard too much. With one word from her, their operation could be blown apart. He had no choice but to take her with him.
“Let me go,” she cried out as he pulled her by the arm toward the approaching cart. When Brody passed by with the goods, Rowen tossed her into the back of the wagon. Managing to fight off another soldier, he then jumped up into the cart with her. They sped away toward the Sea Mirage, with Rowen wondering how he was going to explain this one to his brothers and his crew.
Excerpt from The Baron’s Destiny
(Book 3, Barons of the Cinque Ports Series)
Hanging off the side of a cliff by one arm, watching as the horse that had thrown him ran off through the forest, John Montague was sure this would be the way he died.
If he had any doubt in his mind, the crash of thunder reverberating in his ears, the flashes of lightning across the nighttime sky, and the torrential downpour only reinforced the fact that this was the last nail in his coffin.
“God’s eyes, why a storm?” he growled, trying to grab with both hands for the vine that held him, but couldn’t. His horse had become spooked at the nearby strike of lightning and thrown him just as he’d seen a man on the road in front of him.
His head had hit against the rocks and was bleeding and he could barely move his arm because of the pain from the arrow sticking out of his flesh. Blood trickled down his forehead getting into his eyes, and lodging its coppery taste upon his lips. He should have stayed with the others at King Edward’s side in Paris for another hour, or at least waited for his squire to accompany him instead of venturing out on his own. But when he’d seen the storm coming he’d panicked, and felt the need to get back to his ship without delay.
His fleet of ships was scheduled to leave France tonight since the men had served their required fourteen days service to their king. King Edward had spent the summer in Paris, and had not stepped foot on English soil in so long now that it was starting to become a problem back home. John had brought the king’s reinforcements to France, as well as the supplies his sovereign had requested from England. The trading had taken place once they’d docked on the French coast, and they’d be leaving the coveted high quality English wool behind, taking back with them fine French wine in its place.
“Arrrrgh,” he shouted, his fingers slipping on the wet vine as he wondered whom the person was who’d dared to jump out on t
he road threatening him with a bow and arrow and causing this inconvenience in the first place. The knave had the nerve to threaten an armed baron on horseback, and John still couldn’t believe he’d actually taken an arrow to the shoulder. If his horse hadn’t reared up and thrown him, he would have struck the man down with his sword. If he ever got his hands on the hooded man, there would be hell to pay.
He dared to look down to his feet dangling like a rag doll beneath him and wished he hadn’t. The stormy sea swirled and waves swelled up far below, threatening to drown him. The sharp rocks on the way down would most likely crack his skull open before he even hit the water. Being a baron of the coast in Hastings, he should be used to any kind of weather, but his nightmares made him seem like a coward every time a storm hit even though he was really a very brave man.
Visions of his recurring nightmare swarmed in his head. It was the fear of that awful dream he’d been having for the last fourteen years that had more than once made him think he’d gone mad. No twenty-eight-year-old baron of the Cinque Ports should be crying out in his sleep like a scared child. Tongues were already wagging about him back home, and his own friends – the other barons of the Cinque Ports, ridiculed him constantly about his frightening nightmare.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think of the horrific dream, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. It all started on his wedding day fourteen years ago to a girl he hadn’t known was a witch. He’d found a deck of her devil cards and when he’d picked them up, a card had fallen to the ground, landing face up at his feet.
It was a card that depicted a castle tower breaking apart as the ground caved in beneath it. Stormy skies all around it, two people plunged from the tower over the side and to their deaths. This card was the seed of his nightmares because somehow he knew it was his own castle falling into the sea.
“This is just a dream. It’s just a dream,” he spoke aloud to himself. “I’ll wake up and I’ll be in my bed, and none of this will be real.”
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