Lady At Arms: A Medieval Romance (Volume 1)
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HE WAS THE VILEST OF MEN Lizanne Balmaine has spent years honing her skills at arms, determined she will never again be at the mercy of any man. When she comes face to face with the one who stole her future, she seizes the opportunity to exact revenge. Soon he is her prisoner, at her mercy. But something is different about him, something that makes her question her purpose. Is it possible a man can be so changed? More, can she right the wrong that could lay ruin to her family? SHE WAS A QUESTION NEVER BEFORE ASKED OF HIM Ranulf Wardieu does not seek a bride, nor a settling of scores when his mission for the king places him in the path of a beguiling, raven-haired maiden. But fascination turns to fury when she imprisons him. Accused of wrongdoing, the nature of which she refuses to reveal, he discovers the lady is as skilled at wielding a sword as she is at verbal sparring. When he bests her at her game and his jailer becomes his captive, he is determined to learn what wrong he has done her. However, as they engage in a battle of wits and wills and he glimpses her woman’s heart, he discovers Lizanne is a question never before asked of him—one his own jaded heart refuses to answer.
how better to make a man than to give him a powerful reason for becoming one? The aim was not to turn one’s allegiance, though sometimes it happened. The aim was for the squire to give his utmost to his lord, which was of greatest importance in battle. But the strategy had failed with Jonas—fatally. A mistake Garr would not make again. Telling himself Jonas Bretanne was in the past, dead and soon buried, he released the pommel. As for Annyn Bretanne, she would put her loss behind her. All she
tent. Wardieu stood at the opening. Though recollection of her escape was hazy, she remembered the riders descending upon her and the soul-wrenching moment when she stepped into empty space. She remembered a strong arm encircling her, carrying her to safety. Ranulf Wardieu’s arm. She made no attempt to delve further, for it was disturbing to dwell on the comfort her enemy had provided—and that she had accepted it. Hate being her best defense, she drew on it in the hope it would help her
extent? More, how had she slept through it? Mayhap the same way he now sleeps through your awakening. Had his watch over her through the night so exhausted him? Or did he sleep? She studied his face that seemed less familiar than before. His chiseled features appeared softer, hard mouth fuller, lips retracted slightly to reveal even white teeth. She frowned as something tugged at her memory, allowed a frustrating glimpse, and receded. What was it? Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to
that you have given me good cause.” Lord, grant me patience! “And I am to defend myself knowing only that?” She raised her chin. “I have not asked you to defend yourself, for you can have no defense that will satisfy me.” Denied his request for patience, Ranulf took back the step he had allowed and looked down upon her. “Tell me of that first meeting, the one you spoke of when you held me at Penforke.” She looked up. “I will not, but this I shall tell you—I would rather slip a blade between
head. “Flaxen,” Lady Zara murmured, standing on tiptoe to view her granddaughter. Cooing softly so as not to awaken her daughter-in-law, she placed a finger in one miniature flailing palm and smiled at the child’s strong grip. “Do you think she will be as beautiful as her mother?” Ranulf whispered. “Of course. Save for the hair, she has the look of Lizanne.” “Do share,” his wife said from the bed. Ranulf stepped around his mother and lowered the bundle into Lizanne’s waiting arms, then he