Physically and emotionally scarred by his many years on the battlefield,
Mangan, son of the powerful earl of Kirkcaldy, seeks forgiveness by embarking
on a religious quest before committing to a life of cloistered celibacy. But
his disturbing attraction to a “dark angel,” an exquisite gypsy woman who has
just witnessed the murder of her parents, puts him on a far different path.
Obsessed with a craving for revenge, and hiding a terrible secret, Ashleigh uses her skill at trickery and illusion—taught to her from birth—to torment the people she believes are hiding her parents’ killer. But her overwhelming attraction to the warrior-monk Mangan wrecks her emotions and upsets all her plans.
As Mangan and Ashleigh join together to uncover what they soon realize is a diabolical plot to unseat the king of Scotland, they also struggle to understand the powerful forces at work between them—a passion that stirs their blood, a desire to heal that mends their souls…and a love that unites their hearts.
EXCERPT from Chapter 9…
As they rode, the grade gradually increased and the trees became fewer and father between. Instead of blackberry bushes and dense foliage, there were grasses and tall fronds. The fronds were tipped with dry seedpods which fluttered into the air as their horses brushed past. As the golden pods floated, they landed on Ashleigh’s black tresses, glittering like golden flakes on ebony waves.
A halo.
Ashleigh glanced back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You are beautiful. I think of you as a dark angel.”
Ashleigh laughed and shook her head, sending the pods spinning in the breeze. “Then who are you? You, too, have black hair. Perhaps you are God’s warrior.”
“I prefer not to call myself a warrior at all.”
“But that is silly. You are a warrior. Just because you feel sorrow for your deeds does not negate your identity. You can be a warrior for God just as you were a warrior for the King.”
“I want to be a monk… a fully ordained monk.”
Ashleigh’s smile faded and she looked over Mangan’s too handsome face. Strong chin, intelligent brow. Manly cheeks and a powerful, corded neck leading to solid, broad shoulders. And lips. Full yet firm…she had kissed those lips… twice. She had felt his passion and nearly drowned within his desire. Those feelings came from him. She had not manifested them, in fact, she was confused by them. She did not know if her emotions had been merely a transferred need to replace her loneliness, or something her innocent body craved. It was true that he made her stomach tingle and her breath shorten, but why? He made her feel like there was a vista just ahead that would open her eyes to a new, glorious world.
“Do you really?” she asked softly.
He shuddered. Her eyes were glinting in the sunlight, showing the thin line of sapphire around the iris. The white blossoms still nestled in her hair and the golden pods fluttered around her face with magical beauty. He wanted her. He wanted to lay her in the grass and slowly peel every layer from her body and make love to her in the brilliant sunshine so he could watch her body ripple beneath his caress.
These were not thoughts of a monk. “Yes,” he whispered, unaware of the desperate yearning that filled his voice.
“Why?” she asked as she pulled her horse to a stop. They had reached the top of the mountain and a few steps further would put them at the crest.
He, too, stopped and dismounted. “You know why. I want to erase my sins.”
“Won’t God forgive you for your sin? Doesn’t he bless those who ask for forgiveness? You told me that to be redeemed once must learn to forgive. Shouldn’t you forgive yourself?”
A breath of wind rippled across the field, casting thousands of seed ponds in to the air and sending them spinning in the currents. Some would land only a few feet away, while others would travel miles, germinating in fields far, far away.
“Come,” she said as she took his hand. “Let us look at God’s country as Cairdean, my raven, sees it.” A pod became caught in Mangan’s eyelash and she brushed it away with her fingers.
He groaned, feeling the sweetness of her caress and imagining it elsewhere, wanting to feel it lower, more intimately.
Hand and hand, they walked to the crest of the mountain and looked over the side at the long, rolling valley. “Is this your Scotland?” Ashleigh asked. “Is this the land your God created?”
The view was breathtaking, and he clenched her hand tightly, unwilling to let her go. “Aye, this is God’s land.”
“Does God love his land? Love the creatures within it?”
“Aye,” Mangan agreed, pulling her closer so that their sides brushed against each other.
“Then God loves you,” Ashleigh finished as she squeezed his hand.
He looked at her, stunned. Desire faded to be replaced by awe. Who was this little angel who spoke as if the Great Father spoke through her lips? Beautiful… in heart and soul. She could have scars upon her face and still he would think she was the most incredible woman on earth. “Perhaps,” he whispered. “If you ask Him for me.”
As they rode, the grade gradually increased and the trees became fewer and father between. Instead of blackberry bushes and dense foliage, there were grasses and tall fronds. The fronds were tipped with dry seedpods which fluttered into the air as their horses brushed past. As the golden pods floated, they landed on Ashleigh’s black tresses, glittering like golden flakes on ebony waves.
A halo.
Ashleigh glanced back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You are beautiful. I think of you as a dark angel.”
Ashleigh laughed and shook her head, sending the pods spinning in the breeze. “Then who are you? You, too, have black hair. Perhaps you are God’s warrior.”
“I prefer not to call myself a warrior at all.”
“But that is silly. You are a warrior. Just because you feel sorrow for your deeds does not negate your identity. You can be a warrior for God just as you were a warrior for the King.”
“I want to be a monk… a fully ordained monk.”
Ashleigh’s smile faded and she looked over Mangan’s too handsome face. Strong chin, intelligent brow. Manly cheeks and a powerful, corded neck leading to solid, broad shoulders. And lips. Full yet firm…she had kissed those lips… twice. She had felt his passion and nearly drowned within his desire. Those feelings came from him. She had not manifested them, in fact, she was confused by them. She did not know if her emotions had been merely a transferred need to replace her loneliness, or something her innocent body craved. It was true that he made her stomach tingle and her breath shorten, but why? He made her feel like there was a vista just ahead that would open her eyes to a new, glorious world.
“Do you really?” she asked softly.
He shuddered. Her eyes were glinting in the sunlight, showing the thin line of sapphire around the iris. The white blossoms still nestled in her hair and the golden pods fluttered around her face with magical beauty. He wanted her. He wanted to lay her in the grass and slowly peel every layer from her body and make love to her in the brilliant sunshine so he could watch her body ripple beneath his caress.
These were not thoughts of a monk. “Yes,” he whispered, unaware of the desperate yearning that filled his voice.
“Why?” she asked as she pulled her horse to a stop. They had reached the top of the mountain and a few steps further would put them at the crest.
He, too, stopped and dismounted. “You know why. I want to erase my sins.”
“Won’t God forgive you for your sin? Doesn’t he bless those who ask for forgiveness? You told me that to be redeemed once must learn to forgive. Shouldn’t you forgive yourself?”
A breath of wind rippled across the field, casting thousands of seed ponds in to the air and sending them spinning in the currents. Some would land only a few feet away, while others would travel miles, germinating in fields far, far away.
“Come,” she said as she took his hand. “Let us look at God’s country as Cairdean sees it.” A pod became caught in Mangan’s eyelash and she brushed it away with her fingers.
He groaned, feeling the sweetness of her caress and imagining it elsewhere, wanting to feel it lower, more intimately.
Hand and hand, they walked to the crest of the mountain and looked over the side at the long, rolling valley. “Is this your Scotland?” Ashleigh asked. “Is this the land your God created?”
The view was breathtaking, and he clenched her hand tightly, unwilling to let her go. “Aye, this is God’s land.”
“Does God love his land? Love the creatures within it?”
“Aye,” Mangan agreed, pulling her closer so that their sides brushed against each other.
“Then God loves you,” Ashleigh finished as she squeezed his hand.
He looked at her, stunned. Desire faded to be replaced by awe. Who was this little angel who spoke as if the Great Father spoke through her lips? Beautiful… in heart and soul. She could have scars upon her face and still he would think she was the most incredible woman on earth. “Perhaps,” he whispered. “If you ask Him for me.”
