Seven Romantic Tales from Award-Winning
and Best-Selling Historical Romance Authors!
Table of Contents
Her Gallant Knight by Catherine Kean
Patrick by Cathy MacRae
Sweet Taste of Love by Anna Markland
Under a Silver Moon by Hildie McQueen
A Knight Amid Thorns by Laurel O'Donnell
The Duke Next Door by Meara Platt
The Taming of Mairi MacKenzie by Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Table of Contents
Quick Start
Her Gallant Knight by Catherine Kean
Title
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About Catherine Kean
Connect with Catherine
Also by Catherine Kean
Patrick by Cathy MacRae
Title
Copyright
Patrick Lindsay
Viking Words of Interest
Dedication
A Note About The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Series
Patrick
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Note from Cathy MacRae
More Books by Cathy MacRae
About Cathy MacRae
Excerpt from Macleod
Sweet Taste of Love by Anna Markland
TITLE
DEDICATION
COPYRIGHT
MORE ANNA MARKLAND
PROLOGUE
ATONEMENT
SOPPING WET
THE MOOR
TO MARKET
NARROW ESCAPE
WEARY
FACE TO FACE
THERE'S A WOMAN IN THE OXCART
SWARM
BEESTUNG
HELP HER
IS IT LOVE?
I HAVE FAILED
TRICKERY
A WEIGHT LIFTED
NO MORE WHEEZING
FLIGHT
PREPARING FOR A SIEGE
UNDER ATTACK
ALL IS WELL
A LITTLE DEATH
AN UNINVITED GUEST
A BEDDING
EPILOGUE
RECIPE FOR MEAD
ABOUT ANNA MARKLAND
Under a Silver Moon by Hildie McQueen
Title
Copyright
Other Works by Hildie McQueen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Excerpt from Scarlett, A Summer Bride
About Hildie McQueen
A Knight Amid Thorns by Laurel O'Donnell
Title
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
From Laurel O'Donnell
About Laurel O'Donnell
More Books by Laurel O'Donnell
The Duke Next Door by Meara Platt
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Note from Meara Platt
Also by Meara Platt
About Meara Platt
The Taming of Mairi MacKenzie by Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Title
Blurb
Dedication
Personal Note from Sue-Ellen
Quote from Devorgilla of Doon
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Author's Note from Sue-Ellen Welfonder
About Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Connect with Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Also by Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Available Allie Mackay Titles
Copyright
Her Gallant Knight
A Medieval Romance Novella
by
Catherine Kean
Copyright Details
Published by Catherine Kean
P.O. Box 917624
Longwood, FL 32791-7624
Her Gallant Knight Copyright © 2018 by Catherine Kean
Cover design © 2018 by Cora Graphics
Images © Depositphotos.com
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author
Chapter One
Merringstow Castle
Nottinghamshire, England
Summer, 1186
“Are you certain we are allowed inside?” Standing next to her older brother, fourteen-year-old Lady Amelia Bainbridge cast a nervous glance down the shadowed, torch-lit passageway outside the keep’s solar. Surely ’twas wrong to be entering his lordship’s private rooms?
“Ryder has let me into his sire’s antechamber before,” Tilden said with an encouraging grin. “If anyone questions us, I will say I thought I had permission.”
Amelia nodded, but her churning stomach didn’t calm in the least. She’d only lived at the castle for just over a sennight, sent by her parents to become a ward of the stern, formidable Lord Stanbury. While she’d been uneasy about moving away from Callingston Keep, her home since she’d been a babe, her parents had impressed upon her the tremendous honor of being fostered by his lordship.
“He is one of the most revered knights in these lands, and he does not accept every young lady to be his ward. Think of the opportunities you will have, the new friends you
will make,” her mother had insisted, her eyes sparkling. “Your father and I could not be more proud of you—and, of course, of your brother.”
Tilden had lived at Merringstow for years. At the age of nine, he’d begun serving his lordship as a page, the first step of Tilden’s goal to become a knight and fight for the crown.
Amelia had always been close to her sibling, and the chance to see him more frequently than the occasional feast or holiday had encouraged her to pack up her belongings and move to Merringstow. She’d become the oldest of three wards who took lessons in embroidery, social graces, and the responsibilities of managing a fortress—all preparation for married life one day.
While Tilden, who’d advanced to being one of Lord Stanbury’s squires, had many friends here, she was just getting to know the other wards, pages, and squires.
And then there was Ryder, his lordship’s youngest son—also a squire at the keep. Handsome. Clever. Annoying Ryder.
She’d known him since they were very young. She’d considered him a dear friend, but since she’d moved to Merringstow, every chance Ryder got, he teased her.
If she got into trouble with Lord Stanbury, Ryder would never let her forget it.
Tilden pushed down on the door handle, and dread gripped her. “Mayhap we should leave—”
“Stop worrying, Amelia.”
“Are you sure ’tis all right? What if—?”
The door opened inward, revealing part of a stone floor streaked with sunlight. Shaking her head, Amelia moved backward, stumbling as she stepped on the hem of her long silk gown, but Tilden grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the antechamber then shut the door behind them.
Sunshine glinted on the numerous swords, daggers, and shields displayed on the chamber walls, but before she could fully glance around the room, a muffled noise drew her gaze to the floor.
A dun-colored wolfhound lay on her side in a large, cloth-covered bed. Five dozing puppies lay alongside her. Oh, but they were beautiful pups.
The mother remained still but watched intently as Tilden slowly drew Amelia toward the dogs. He knelt beside the bed, and as the mother lifted her head and started to rise, he stroked her, calming her. Amelia also sank down to her knees, her gown pooling around her.
“Look at them,” she whispered in wonder.
“Ten weeks old. His lordship bred his two favorite wolfhounds for this litter.” Tilden grinned, looking so much like their sire in that moment. “I know how much you like animals, especially puppies.”
“I do.” She’d enjoyed caring for litters birthed by her father’s hounds.
A pup, who’d been woken by his mother’s stirrings, whimpered. He was an adorable fellow with silver-gray fur. Tears pricked her eyes, for she’d been very homesick since she’d left Callingston Keep, but seeing these young dogs eased the ache in her breast.
“I thought visiting these pups might cheer you up,” her brother murmured.
“You were right.”
The silver-gray puppy was sitting up now and studying her. Several of the other pups were also stirring.
“Want to hold that gray one?” Tilden asked.
Oh, she did! “Do you think ’twill be all right?”
“The mother is friendly, and Ryder has let me hold the pups before.” Tilden picked up the puppy and handed it to her. As she slipped one arm around its middle and the other under its hindquarters for added support, its inquisitive gaze met hers. Her heart squeezed with love.
Tilden chuckled. “Careful, now. Do not get too attached.”
“How can I not?” Amelia kissed the pup’s muzzle.
“There are three males and two females. So Ryder told me.”
’Twas the second time her brother had spoken of Ryder. Jealousy stirred, but she mentally swept it aside, for Ryder would not ruin this cherished moment for her. Yet, ’twas hard to ignore thoughts of the lad she’d known for so long, and who had spent summers with them at Callingston. No longer was he the wiry, often clumsy boy who’d raced through fields and along lakeshores in search of adventure, and who’d cried when the sickly fawn he’d rescued from the forest had died. Fifteen now like Tilden, with tousled brown hair and broad shoulders, he’d hidden his sensitivity behind arrogance, and his stride bore an insolent swagger.
The other wards at Merringstow were infatuated with him. They preened and giggled when he walked past, and he obviously enjoyed the attention. She, however, refused to swoon. He might be the ruling lord’s son, but she didn’t like who he’d become. He seemed to seize any opportunity to humiliate her. The second day she’d been at Merringstow, he’d taken her eating dagger, a gift from her late grandmother, during the midday meal; thinking the knife had fallen off the table, she’d searched the dirty rushes for some time before he’d plucked the knife from its hiding spot in an arrangement of flowers. The fourth day, he’d dropped a live frog in her soup, and the fifth—
The puppy squirmed and nuzzled her fingers. “I think he is hungry,” Amelia said. As she set the dog back in the bed, a faint creak sounded behind her: the sound of the chamber door opening.
As she quickly rose and faced the doorway, Ryder said, “There you are, Tilden. We have been looking for you.”
Dressed in an emerald green tunic and black hose tucked into polished leather boots, Ryder stepped inside, followed by two squires—brothers—who were also good friends of Tilden’s: a brown-haired lad named Stephen, and a blond young man called Gladwin. As several puppies ambled out of the bed to see the newcomers, Ryder shut the door and leaned his shoulder against the wall. Stephen crouched to pet the dogs, while Gladwin hung back, observing.
Tilden rose, brushing dust from his knees. “I thought Amelia might like to see your pups.”
“Father’s pups,” Ryder corrected, crossing his arms.
Misgiving formed a hard knot in Amelia’s throat. She was going to get into trouble. She and her sibling.
“We did not mean any harm.” With a sheepish grin, Tilden added, “We did not think you or your sire would mind.”
“Ah.” Ryder turned slightly to study her, and sunlight played over his features. Fringed by dark lashes, his brown eyes, the color of polished yew, gleamed. His strong cheekbones, inherited from his sire, drew her gaze down to the firm slash of his mouth. When he tilted his head to better scrutinize her, his wavy, chestnut brown locks shifted at his shoulders.
He did not appear at all likely to compromise. Trying not to fidget, Amelia clasped her hands together.
“Would your father mind?” Uncertainty threaded through Tilden’s words, and she wished she could slip her fingers into his, as she’d done before, to comfort him. He wouldn’t like that sisterly show of affection, though, in front of his friends.
“My father might mind very much,” Ryder said. “He will be angry indeed if you are late for the feast and not wearing your best clothes, as he ordered.”
His lordship had made it very clear that his guest arriving that day—Lord Edsel Palmer, a high-ranking official of the Knights Templar—was to be treated with the utmost courtesy. Neither she nor Tilden had changed their garments yet; they’d only intended to spend a moment with the dogs before going to their chambers to get ready.
Panic flared. “I should go and dress,” she murmured. “If you will excuse me—”
“Wait.” Ryder halted her before she’d taken two steps toward the door. He nudged Stephen, who was playing with a pup, with the toe of his boot. “Leave. You too, Gladwin, and not a word about this matter to anyone.”
The two brothers quit the chamber, and Ryder eased away from the wall. Oh, mercy. Surely Ryder wasn’t going to tell his sire about finding her and Tilden with the dogs? She must convince him not to speak of it. “Please, Tilden was only trying to be kind.”
Ryder’s dark brows rose. “Kind?”
“He knows how much I adore animals. As do you.”
Wariness touched Ryder’s expression, as if he didn’t want to be reminded of the boy he’d once been. T
hen his stare hardened. “Because we are old friends, I will make sure my sire does not find out you were here today.”
Relief rushed through her. “Thank you.”
Tilden nodded. “Aye, many thanks—”
“There is, however, a cost for my silence.”
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