Black Falcon's Lady

by Kimberly Cates

  "Nay, Tade. I'll not have a strange priest join us, nor a vicar of my own church. I want none of their hatred to sully our joy—and their laws bind my heart no more than they bound my rogue Falcon." Her cheeks tinted delicate rose, her face tipping away as though she were suddenly shy. "The closest I've ever felt to God was in a sun-drenched Donegal glen with you at my side."

  Fierce love lanced through Tade, and his hands swept up to frame her face.

  "I'll take you there at dawn, love," he rasped. "Pledge—"

  "Love, Tade," Maryssa choked out, pressing her lips to his damp cheeks. "Pledge only your love. It is all I've ever wanted."

  * * *

  The sun poured down over the deserted glen at Christ's Wound like melting honey, whispering of spring as it turned the last mists of dawn into gossamer wings of gold. Maryssa raised her cheeks to the March wind's kiss, cradling the bouquet Tade had given her in her arms. He had fashioned it himself while she had lain deep in slumber, weaving a nosegay of dried flowers from the summer before—from the sweet, remembered days when first she had been captured in the spell of rakish laughter and the glint of emerald eyes.

  Maryssa raised her eyes to Tade’s face. The beloved features were soul-wrenchingly solemn, agonizingly handsome, set against the magnificence of his clothes. Velvet, the shade of emeralds, clung to his broad shoulders; breeches of snow white encased his lean-muscled thighs. A froth of lace tumbled like sea foam from beneath that stubborn Kilcannon jaw, accenting the aristocratic chin and patrician nose while his mouth—that mouth that cursed her, kissed her, swept her from despair to wonder—murmured words to her, love-words sweet and tender, that reached inside Maryssa's very soul, binding her to Tade forever.

  She fought the memories of sorrow that still hovered about them, wanting Tade to see in her face this dawn only joy. Always joy. But when he took her hand in his with a tenderness that struck through to her heart, it was as if the warmth of his love enfolded her, banishing even those few whispered sorrows, while his voice and the tremor in his strong hand filled her with a reverence such as she'd never experienced.

  She felt something smooth and cool slip over the tip of her finger, and realized that it was a ring. But her puzzlement as to when and how he had obtained the gold band melted to nothing but wonder as Tade's eyes caught hers. "I, Tade Kilcannon, take thee, my Maura, to be my wife, to weave with me a life of loving and laughter, to hold, cherish, shield thee from any pain I can spare thee until my death, aye, and after."

  The ring slid into place, and she felt it in the depths of her heart. She raised her gaze to Tade's, her eyes clinging to his, her voice trembling. "I, Maura, take thee, Tade, to treasure and love through anything that befalls us, knowing that in my love for you and yours for me we will find the strength and power to heal any pain, any trouble, the world can offer. I promise to hold you, cherish you, comfort you, and love you with all that is within me, to my death, aye, and after."

  She tipped her face up, feeling some unseen blessing drift down upon them, as though borne on doves' wings, an unearthly sense of serenity enfolding her spirit. Her lips parted, the words to describe what she felt eluding her, but she saw the splendor of it blushed upon Tade's sun-kissed features, felt it in his lips as he drew her gently into his arms, his lips melting into hers in the tenderest of kisses.

  "Maura. My wife," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Mine . . ." With a suddenness that startled her, he arched his head back and let his laughter ring through the air as his arms caught her up, sweeping her high. He whirled with her in a circle, the glen spinning in a glorious blend of gold, blue, and the first sprouts of green. Maryssa relaxed in his arms, feeling the wind whisk through her loose curls, dart about the delicate curve of her throat.

  "Aye, milord rogue," she cried. "Yours. Always yours."

  "I never thought this day would come," he said, whirling with her to the shelter of a grassy knoll. "That I would see you, with your face shining, your hair sweet satin about your face as we wed. It was so—so hard, loving you, holding you, yet thinking I could never truly have you. And now . . . now you are my wife. And before the spring wanes, our babe. . .”

  His voice trailed off, as if his joy was too great to give voice to, and he eased her down onto the soft grass. Maryssa's hand swept up to caress his lips, but a bright gold glint caught her eyes as the sunlight kissed the circlet about her finger. A tiny cry of astonishment breached her lips as she stared in amazement at the delicately wrought ring. A stone the hue of her own eyes gleamed in opalescent beauty, curled within the graceful wings of a golden swan.

  "Tade!" she gasped, her throat constricting. "How—where did you ever find this? When—"

  "I bought it in London just after my ship anchored," he said, a flush staining his cheeks. "I was intending to chain you to me as my bride, so I—er—knew I'd have need of a ring."

  "A ring, milord Falcon?" Merriment bubbled up within her as she watched Tade shift restlessly upon his glossy booted feet. "And how long did it take you to find this ring in London?"

  The flush deepened farther still, but she pressed forward, grasping his hand and tugging him down until he sat beside her.

  "I didn't exactly find it," he admitted, looking for all the world like a guilty school lad caught at some mischief. "I—er—had it made. There was a shop that displayed in its window a score of gems, and when I rode by . . ."He glared at her. "Well, blast it, the cursed thing held all the colors in your eyes, and—"

  "And so you bought it for the woman you supposedly loathed, so you could drag her into the hideous torture of being your bride?''

  "I bought it because it glowed with the green, gold, and blue light of the eyes I'd not been able to drive from my mind and my heart since that first night I saw you at the Devil's Grin. I bought it because, despite all that had torn at us, I loved you more than life, more than pride." He turned his gaze away, fixing it upon the rising sun. "Maybe… maybe I wanted it to show you that despite my fierce words, I loved you. The babe, aye, I wanted the child we created together, but it was not for that alone that I rode across half of England. It was you I wanted, Maura, you I needed, with your gentleness and your courage."

  "Courage?" Maryssa laughed, peering up at him with a love that understood all, forgave all.

  "Aye. The courage that made you heed Devin's last wish, cast your own chance at happiness to the winds in order to spare my life. The courage that made you dare to face your father and that bastard Dallywoulde when they would have crushed you, aye, and the courage to rid yourself of a man who had spat nothing but cruelty and hatred at you, vowing to wrench from your arms the babe that you carried in your womb." He turned back to her, his gaze finding hers, holding hers. "It takes no great courage to charge a line of soldiers, knowing that, if the worst befalls you and a bullet ends your life, it will be over in a matter of seconds. But to face years. . . a lifetime . . . alone, casting aside happiness in the name of love . . . that is rare courage indeed."

  She felt his fingers curve beneath her chin, and the worshipful light of his eyes made her cheeks burn with pleasure and pride.

  "I know not what the future holds, Maura, or to what shores it will carry us. But I do know this. Wherever we sail to carve out a new life, it will be joy for me, a joy such as was never present within Nightwylde's dread walls."

  Maryssa's gaze turned toward the distant horizon, her heart filling with the memory of the castle's daunting towers, the cold walls and vast chambers filled with nothing but her father's hate. "As long as you stand beside me, milord Falcon, I shall possess the courage to ride any highroad you might name."

  Her heart was bursting with love as she flung her arms about her dashing rogue, banishing the dream haze of Nightwylde's shrouded turrets as she turned her gaze to the future.

  Thank You!

  Thank you so much for reading BLACK FALCON’S LADY. I’m honored you have chosen to read my book. I hope you enjoyed reading Tade and Maryssa’s story as much as I loved writ
ing it!

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  As always, I send my kind regards and appreciation to you, my readers. Thank you for your support and encouragement! May your world be filled with “happily ever afters!”

  Kimberly

  CELTIC ROGUES ~ THE SERIES

  AS ENGLISH CONQUERORS SET THE EMERALD ISLE AFLAME, THESE HEROES WILL FIGHT FOR IRELAND. . . AND FOR THE WOMEN THEY LOVE.

  I've always adored Irish heroes and the legends that weave through the breathtaking landscape of the Emerald Isle. When I return to this home of my heart, I spend time perched on the ledge of the castle ruins I describe in STEALING HEAVEN and HER MAGIC TOUCH, a fairy-kissed place called Rathinaine.

  I've always sensed the stories in the stones-- . Echoes of the men and women who fought for Irish freedom when the English outlawed the religion of the native Irish and made it impossible for them to buy property, pursue a profession or educate their children.

  As I wrote the Celtic Rogues series, I asked myself what happens in a land where a man must break the law to meet his family’s most basic human needs? He can turn his back on his heritage to survive. He can surrender to poverty and degradation, or he can choose to defy the conquerors and risk execution, imprisonment or deportation. Each of my Celtic Rogues must choose what path to take. But it is one thing for a lone hero to sacrifice himself in a blaze of glory. Will he dare to risk the woman who wins his heart? In a land filled with such turmoil, perhaps the most dangerous choice anyone can make is to fall in love and risk dreams of forever in Ireland’s struggles to be free.

  In addition to BLACK FALCON’S LADY, there are four more books in the series— each stands alone. Each is part of my love song to Ireland.

  FALL IN LOVE WITH THE HEROES OF KIMBERLY CATES’S UNFORGETTABLE CELTIC ROGUE SERIES:

  FALL IN LOVE WITH THE HEROES OF KIMBERLY CATES’S UNFORGETTABLE CELTIC ROGUE SERIES:

  HER MAGIC TOUCH: (1808)

  A Desperate Magic: On Beltane eve, Mary Fallon Delaney steals to a castle ruin where her mother’s allegedly magical brooch has been hidden all these years, waiting for the right moment to summon “Ciaran of the Mist,” a mythical Celtic warrior promised to appear at the hour of Ireland's greatest need. A legend to be sure, but Fallon is willing to try anything to save Ireland from the marauding English. When she waits for the moonlight to work its magic with the brooch, a naked stranger stumbles out of the mist and she stares in disbelief.

  A mysterious stranger: As much as he insists he is no Celtic warrior from the fairy realm, this mad Irish beauty insists on calling him Ciaran. He knows nothing of his life before he stumbled out of the mist, his head gashed, and he has no intention of getting swept up in the clash between the Irish and the English. However, when Ciaran encounters the villainous Captain Lionel Redmayne, who is fascinated by Fallon, Ciaran finds himself caught up in Fallon's world of rebellion, wishing he could be the hero she longs for.

  A sacrifice foretold: But whatever his identity, Ciaran knows how the story will end. He will walk into the mist alone— unless the passion he finds in Fallon's arms is strong enough to ransom him from the secrets locked in his past. Yet does Fallon have the courage to love an all too flawed mortal when she’s spent a lifetime in love with a dream?

  BRIAR ROSE: (1810)

  A fairy-kissed Irish healer: Rhiannon Fitzgerald has no memories of her heritage, only her father's claim that fairies bestowed her gift for healing. Traveling the Irish countryside alone, she cares for any wounded creature in her path. When she stumbles across a half-dead English officer amid the standing stones of Ballyaroon, she senses the turmoil in him—and the danger.

  An English rogue beyond hope: Shot in the standing stones above the ruins, Captain Lionel Redmayne expects to wake in hell for his numerous sins. But when he regains consciousness in a gypsy caravan under the care of a winsome Irish woman and her motley pack of animals he is impressed with the devil’s resourcefulness. Dumping the meticulous Captain into such chaos is far more torturous than flames.

  A chance at redemption: Rhiannon knows there is no place for a free-spirited gypsy in Redmayne’s rigid military world. Redmayne worries that Rhiannon will pay the ultimate price for his sins when his enemies stalk her for daring to help him. And though he wants nothing more than to allow this Irish beauty to lead him from the dark and twisted maze of secrets that imprison his heart, he fears that the only way to save her is to let her go. Or is it possible that a little chaos is exactly what Lionel Redmayne needs to save him from a cunning foe who stalks him still?

  STEALING HEAVEN:

  A dangerous deception: Spinster Norah Linton gambles on a last chance at love and travels to Ireland to wed—sight unseen—Sir Aidan Kane. Upon her arrival at Castle Rathcannon, she is horrified to learn that the tender letters that won her heart were actually penned by Sir Aidan's high-spirited daughter. Not only is Sir Aidan Kane not the tender-hearted widower she thought, he is a scoundrel rumored to have murdered the first Lady Kane.

  A dedicated bachelor: Aidan Kane loves his daughter, Cassandra, and would do almost anything for her—except give up his rakish ways to become leg-shackled to the overly prim Miss Linton. But his past comes to haunt him when Cass longs for a London Season. He knows she’ll be ostracized for her parents' sins. When he discovers that the very proper Norah Linton is the granddaughter of a famous general, he realizes that her honorable lineage could save Cass from humiliation at the hands of the haute ton. But is that worth putting his head through the matrimonial noose?

  A devil’s bargain: They each agree to the marriage—eyes wide open, both knowing it’s not for love. And just as they settle into their fragile world, the rumors surrounding the mysterious death of Aidan’s first wife rear up again. As unknown enemies seek revenge, striking at the heart of everything Aidan holds dear, he and Norah must learn the truth of what really happened before all is lost.

  LILY FAIR: (Medieval)

  In an Ireland divided between druid mystics and the faith of St. Patrick…

  A dark prophecy: It was foretold that Caitlin of the Lilies would one day destroy the Irish chieftain Conn, who sends her to be raised in a far-off convent. Caitlin trustingly awaits the bridegroom Conn has promised her—and at last a handsome warrior arrives to escort her home. Cailtin wonders if this proud, silent man is to be her husband, until she awakens to find him looming over her, his sword at her throat.

  A knight errant: Niall of the Seven Betrayals has sworn fealty to Conn, the chieftain who promised Niall a final quest that will win him honor. When Conn orders him to escort Caitlin of the Lilies home, Niall resents being charged with such a mundane task, not suspecting that the crafty Conn has carefully honed him into the perfect weapon to do the unspeakable.

  A test of loyalties: When Niall attempts to carry out his mission, the defiant Caitlin makes him question everything he believes. He faces an unimaginabl
e dilemma. Kill the innocent maid who trusts herself to his protection or betray his king and have all hope of regaining his honor snatched away—along with his life.

  Excerpt from Stealing Heaven

  STEALING HEAVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Only a madman would have dared to ride the night-darkened road alone, with just the moon to guide him. Any sane traveler would have barricaded himself in the relative safety of a sturdy coach, outriders armed with blunderbusses mounting guard along the way. Lanterns would have blazed at the coach front, peeling back the shadows that could hide lurking danger.

  But never in the years Sir Aidan Kane had traveled the labyrinth of roads that led to Castle Rathcannon had he hidden from the night.

  He craved the darkness, the wind, the wildness. He embraced the haunting beauty of a land he could never truly understand.

  He spurred his stallion down the road, his mantle billowing behind him like the wings of a dark angel, the planes of his face hard and reckless and wild.

  The night's chill breath whispered beneath his collar and through the mahogany waves of his hair. It mocked him with the shadows of the denizens of night--desperate rebels and soulless thieves seeming to leap out from behind every tree and rock.

  But Aidan wouldn't have given a damn if Lucifer's own army were at his heels. He'd been destined to be the devil's own before he'd taken his first step, bedded his first woman. And Aidan Kane was being hunted by darker ghosts this night--the spirits of the poor bastards who had been betrayed by various Kanes of Rathcannon for five long centuries.