This is a new blog feature where a group of Medieval Romance promote each other’s works on their blogs each week. So if you’re like us, and like your romance hot all night, or all hot knights, you’ve come to the right place!
My first guest is fabulous author Laura Strickland with her newest release, Lord of Sherwood, from her Guardians of Sherwood trilogy from The Wild Rose Press. Read on to see what else Laura has in store!
Next week I’m spotlighting a Victorian romance rather than a medieval, but on September 29 I’ll be back to Medieval Monday and hosting Vijaya Schartz.
Now, please welcome Laura Strickland!
Find love’s magic here ~ escape to another place; run away to a far-off time … The books of Laura Strickland create a world filled with romance, legend, lore, and the knife’s blade of danger.
Come ride the Scottish hills with highwayman Dougal MacRae, in Devil Black. Follow in the footsteps of Robin Hood with Wren in Daughter of Sherwood. Feel the magic deepen with Wren’s daughter, Linnet, in Champion of Sherwood. Travel to Celtic Ireland with the young warrior, Banadh, and learn how to listen for the music of The God’s Song. Fight for love with Creghan, battling on The Shadow Ground. Follow the magical lure of ancient music with Trelagh, in The Waking Dream. Live the life of a mystical Highland Seer with Siula, in The War Raven.
Laura Strickland books, where legend comes to life!
See the video trailer for The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy!:
New Release! Lord of Sherwood: the Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book Three is now available from Amazon, The Wild Rose Press and all the usual outlets worldwide!
Curlew Champion, master archer, has always known his destiny. With his cousin, Heron Scarlet, he will become a guardian of Sherwood Forest and further his people’s fight against Norman Tyranny. But the third member of the triad is still to be revealed, the woman who will complete the magical circle and, perhaps, answer the longing in Curlew’s heart.
Anwyn Montfort has fled disgrace in Shrewsbury and come to Nottingham at her father’s bidding. He wishes her to make a good marriage and settle down. But the wildness that possesses her refuses to quiet. She knows she’s been searching for something all her life, but not until she glimpses Curlew does her spirit begin to hope it has found its home.
Only the magic of Sherwood can bring them together, and only their union can complete the spell woven so long ago …
Aye, Curlew thought ruefully, she could not be ruined more completely than at his hands last night. And if he sent her home with his child in her belly, what then? He realized, with a shock, he did not even know her given name.
A bit brusquely he said, “Gather up your clothing, lass. Cover yourself. You must go home.”
“Do not be daft. Of course you must. Your father will be beside himself.”
Stubborn light flashed in her eyes. “You gave a vow last night that you would never send me away from you.”
Had he? Dismay crashed down upon Curlew like a hurled stone. But he had thought she was the Lady, asking from him a vow of devotion. He did not know he spoke words to a mortal woman.
He got to his feet, heedless of his nakedness, and began collecting her shed garments and thrusting them at her. “To be sure, you will go home.”
“Nottingham is not my home.” She tipped back her head to look at him. “I belong nowhere, except maybe here with you.”
Curlew shook his head violently. He turned from her and took up his own clothing, pulled his sark over his head even as she watched, donned his leather tunic, then slid into his leather leggings.
He turned back to her swiftly. She sat with her chemise clutched to those tantalizing breasts, her eyes wide with inquiry.
“Listen to me, Mistress Montfort. You are not for me, nor I for you.”
“But last night—”
“Despite last night.” In spite of the wonder and magic of it, the undeniable sense of rightness. “For I have a destiny before me, one I cannot escape, and would not if I could. I regret, but you have chosen the wrong man.”
She got to her feet, her clothing still caught against her. The autumn sun, filtering through the leaves, warmed her hair to amber-gold. “I do not believe that.”
“You must. Now dress yourself. I will see you safe to the edge of the forest.”
She did not move. Like a goddess she stood and looked at him with defiance.
Curlew felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy for Montfort. Who could fail to love this lass, or be driven beyond endurance by her? “Please,” he said.
The corners of her mouth twitched. “I regret, my lord, I would do most anything to please you. Anything but that.”
Find Lord of Sherwood at:
The Wild Rose Press: