Tales of romance, adventure, and virtue set in a medieval fantasy world are her preference, but she also writes speculative fantasy and a bit of science fiction.
The royal wedding approaches and the country is alive with anticipation.
Among the craftsmen traveling to the capital is Constance Rendare and her family. An artist, a widow of an unhappy marriage, and the mother of a young son, she dreams of escaping the cruel servitude of her father’s household.
Wilard Naron serves the Earl of Dentin. He returns to the capital, his childhood home, to collect his earnings and finally free himself from his father’s reputation.
Kidnappings, bandits, and a plot against the king complicate the journey. The conflicts throw Constance and Wilard together as their circumstances grow steadily worse. The more the pair uncovers, the direr the future looks for the country and for them.
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Wilard’s point of view:
“But Simon,” Lady Elsa’s protest carried into the corridor as I opened the back door, “she has a right to know.”
“But that was the whole point of doing it this way.” Dentin’s reply carried beyond the room. They were both doing nothing to keep their conversation a secret, so I took it as a sign to enter without announcing myself. As I expected, they pulled me right into the midst of their debate.
“Wilard, Dentin wishes to take over responsibility for Owen’s education, and I say he needs to ask Constance first.” Lady Elsa turned in her seat to acknowledge my arrival. “What do you say?” Her dark hair hung about her shoulders in wild disarray, no sign of a wimple anywhere near. Her clear skin glowed with the obvious beauty of a woman healthily pregnant. She was loved and cared for, secure and appreciated, and it showed.
The sight made me wish to see Constance similarly bareheaded and glowing. The realization hit me in the gut like a fist. I wanted Constance to be happy and content, and that was more important than almost everything.
“What mother wouldn’t want her son to have all the opportunities I can provide?” Dentin asked the question in a friendly tone, but his appraising glance between Elsa and me made it clear he had noted my reaction to his wife.
“If you are discussing Constance and Owen, I recommend consulting her. She doesn’t respond well when backed into a corner.” I met the earl’s assessing frown. “As you well know, my lord.”
Dentin leaned back from the table and propped his clasped hands on his head, elbows akimbo. “So you are siding with my wife against me.” Although his body language spoke of a man relaxed, a dangerous edge to his tone sent a warning.
Unsure if he truly meant the threat, I chose to ignore it. “I am expressing my opinion. Whether or not Lady Dentin holds the same opinion, I know not.”
Dentin’s dark eyes narrowed, and he grew tenser without appearing to move. Elsa didn’t make the situation any better by eyeing her husband with a challenging tilt to her chin and a hint of smugness thrown into the mix.
Dentin surged to his feet. I jumped at the sudden movement, but Elsa didn’t even flinch.
“We will be in my book room,” he informed her in a overbearing tone. Then, he crossed to her side and leaned down to plant a long and lingering kiss on her mouth. Elsa responded in kind, at which point I studied the floor like a blushing lad barely grown.
“Coming?” Dentin asked. He stood in the open threshold leading into the front part of the house, exuding the pleased appearance of a man confident in his wife’s affections.
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