Being a bride is a state of mind, not of body.
Henry, Baron Roth, is laying siege to a Moorcondian duke who has proclaimed himself the new king of a separate country. Henry is tasked with the job of defeating the traitorous man and is prepared to wait as long as it takes, even if it means spending a boring winter in an increasingly hostile place. His luck turns when he discovers the duke’s son hiding among a group of local nuns. The pretty boy could hold the secret to ending the confrontation without a slaughter on either side.
Kellen has lived a life of indulgence, having no interest in politics and preferring to spend his time in pursuit of making wine. When his father comes under siege, a locked-out Kellen tries to escape past Henry’s camp. Instead, he ends up in the man’s imprisoning arms—a surprisingly comfortable place. His family loyalty is tested by an irresistible attraction.
Henry settles in to entice Kellen to his side, but soon realizes that it is he who is being seduced. His duty is giving way to mounting desire. The more time they spend together, the less important the siege becomes. Forces beyond their control are testing Henry and Kellen, however, and the only way forward will have to be forged together.
General Release Date: 2nd January 2024
The first slap of wind heralding the impending winter made Baron Henry Roth’s eyes water. It made peering through his spyglass at the impenetrable fortress looming high above his camp even more irritating than it had already become. Nothing had changed in the weeks since he’d arrived, and he was no further along in his mission of breaching the place. Every day had become the same as the last, with no end in sight.
He suppressed the desire to sigh. “Highrock is certainly well-named.”
Sir Colin Beaumont, one of the few men in Moorcondia taller than Henry, leaned his elbow on Henry’s shoulder. “This is what comes of you being so good at your job, Hal. The king has sent you here because he believes you are the best man to get in there and stop this rebellion. You have only yourself to blame.”
Now Henry did sigh as he lowered the spyglass. “You’re right, of course. But not even my prodigious mind for warfare can see a way to take that place without tremendous loss of life. I will not use the bodies of our dead men as a bridge to the gate. The siege must continue, even though it means wintering here.”
“Freezing our balls off.” Colin took the spyglass and looked through it himself. “How long do you think they can last up there?”
Henry had done the calculations the previous night with the information he had. “I think they can last until spring, actually…maybe longer. Cragmore has been planning this move for a long time, I’ll wager, and has filled his fortress with as many provisions as that massive place can hold. Their wells ensure a plentiful supply of fresh water, so running out of food will be the only thing to bring him to heel. I don’t think he’s going to risk his people starving to keep this ill-gotten autonomy.”
Colin snorted as he lowered the glass. “King of the North Cliffs. What nonsense. His ancestor was critical to bringing the disparate factions under the one rule of Moorcondia. This land has prospered ever since. What madness has driven him to declare autonomy, do you think?”
Henry had pondered that very question many times and still had no answer. There was rumor of the old duke losing his senses with age. That, plus the death of his older son, may have been what had tipped his mind into madness—all which was purely speculation. The old guy might simply be a greedy bastard who thought the distraction of fighting the Swarm had made Moorcondia subject to this kind of rebellion. No matter. The king wasn’t going to allow Cragmore to break away into a separate country, regardless of how little strategic value the place had. Sedition was something that spread if it wasn’t eradicated.
He turned to look at his camp, a sea of tents with thousands of soldiers milling about. They had the advantage militarily but for the impregnable fortress sitting high up on three sides and with sheer cliffs on the fourth one. If they could only get inside, the fight would be swift and hopefully with as little bloodshed as possible. Even if Henry weren’t inclined to mercy himself, the king had made it clear—“Bring the people of Highrock back into the fold. Don’t slaughter them.”
He started threading his way through the camp to his own tent. “Tell the quartermaster we must make plans to provision us through the winter, at least. I assume much of what we’ll need will have to be transported to us. The locals can’t supply us for much longer, and that’s assuming they will continue to want to.”
So far, the Cragmore residents had met his arrival with the type of indifference that came from being under someone else’s control. Powerful people ruled their lives, regardless of what they thought, and as long as no one was sacking their town and homes, they went about their business, ignoring the nonsense of the ruling class—not that he could be sure no spies or saboteurs mingled among them. It was a near certainty that some of them were personally loyal to the duke.
Colin walked beside him, always a reliable bannerman and as close to a brother as a friend could be. “One thing we won’t have to worry about is having enough wine.”
Henry glanced up at the only other prominent building in the area. “Ah yes, the good sisters.” Honoria Abbey had been in the North longer than the duke’s family. The fertile land covering their hills produced excellent grapes, and the nuns living there made exquisite wine. “I assume their reverend mother has kept them apolitical.”
“As far as we can tell. They are certainly quick with a smile whenever I encounter one in town.”
“Hmm. I don’t trust religious types overly much, as you know. We should be extra-vigilant, as the only women in the world who can disarm men easily, other than whores, are nuns. A smiling woman is the greatest weapon to use against a man.”
“We are terribly dumb creatures,” Colin agreed.
“Ruled by our cocks and stomachs and made vulnerable by our inflated confidence. If we have to remain in this soon-to-be frozen field of mud, we must be careful not to give the duke any information that can strengthen his position. He has the strategic advantage of his location, but we have time on our hands.”
“And idleness is the worst enemy for soldiers. I’ll remain vigilant. Never fear, Hal.”
Henry clapped his friend’s back. “I have no doubt, and if we must linger in this place, we at least have each other for company.” He didn’t elaborate, because Colin understood. Throughout long campaigns, they would spend hours talking, playing chess and also giving each other pleasure. It was a casual thing between them, especially as Colin planned on marrying and fathering children at some point when he was ready to give up soldiering, while Henry had no such interest. He just liked having his needs tended to on a regular basis and disliked using whorehouses. The boys there were often under the duress of having no other options in life, and Henry didn’t like preying on others—and neither did his friend. A quick hand or blow job with Colin was the best solution. It was a way of relieving stress without worrying about pressuring those under their command.
Colin cleared his throat. “All this talk of wine has made me thirsty. Shall we retire to your tent for a cup or two?”
Henry was about to agree when a woman’s strident voice caught his attention. He turned his head toward the edge of the camp where a road out of town was located. “What’s that?” He changed course to investigate.
The guards tasked with guarding who came in and out of town were clustered around a wagon filled with casks. Three nuns stood to one side while a fourth one was giving the sergeant the cutting edge of her tongue.
“You have no right to impede our journey. We have a delivery to make.”
The older man, well-used to dealing with difficult encounters of this kind, was clearly trying to keep his temper. “Holy sister, my job is to keep the people of the North here, where they belong. We can’t have the enemies of the king wandering about the country, now can we?”
The woman lifted her chin, her green wimple fluttering in the wind. “My good man, surely you aren’t suggesting that we sisters are soldiers or spies? We make wine and this,” she added with a wave at the wagon, “is an order for our customer in the valley. We only ask to deliver it. I assure you we will return to our abbey within a few days. And,” she went on with a very un-nun-like sneer, “we shall not be slitting your throats while you sleep when we do so.”
The guard tried for affable. “Of course not, madam. But a simple solution is to sell your casks to us. We are happy to buy them from you, and our coin is as good as anyone else’s.”
“Oh, so now you demand that we renege on our order to a long-standing customer? You’ll buy our wine I’m sure for so long as you’re here. By the time you’re gone, the people outside of the North will have found other suppliers. Is your remit from the king to destroy the abbey’s economy?”
This situation had taken a dark turn. Henry hurried to intervene. “What is all this?”
His arrival obviously relieved the guard. He tipped his helmet. “My lord.”
The nun turned her gaze on him, her eyes brimming with fury. “You are Baron Roth?”
Henry sketched a bow. “I am.”
“Then tell your men to let us pass. We merely mean to go about our business, regardless of your ridiculous dispute with the duke. It has nothing to do with us. My sisters and I are harmless.”
Henry doubted that was entirely true. He had a feeling that this nun would stick a knife in one’s belly if provoked. The other three were meeker, their heads bowed and hands clasped in front of them. There was very little visible, as was always the case with nuns, being dressed as they were with wimples, long robes and loose belts. They appeared younger than their spokeswoman. The one in the middle in particular had creamy skin that looked as if it didn’t get much sun. Now, that was interesting. The others’ faces were more golden, as were their hands. Their necks were covered tightly, and while two of them sported slender columns that led into their habits, the middle one’s throat looked a little thicker.
Henry trusted his gut. It had saved his life on occasion. At the moment, it was telling him that something was wrong. He approached the three nuns and peered at them more closely. The slight stiffening in all four women told him he was on to something. He ran his gaze down the middle nun, noting her larger hands and how the boots peeking out from the hem of the habit were of excellent quality compared to the others. As he reached the nun and stared hard at her, the woman lifted her face and peered back at him with vivid blue eyes. There was some trepidation in that gaze but also defiance and the kind of haughtiness that was bred into nobility.
Knowing he took a risk that would only enrage the local population, Henry listened to his gut and yanked the wimple off the nun’s head. A cascade of silky blond hair, so pale it was nearly white, tumbled out, and the Adam’s apple he’d been sure lay behind the cloth was exposed.
Henry was struck dumb for a moment, the boy’s beauty that arresting. When he’d recovered his wits, he let a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well, who do we have here?”
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