Mary Wine | Exclusive Excerpt from A SWORD FOR HIS LADY

About A SWORD FOR HIS LADY

He’d defend her keep…

After proving himself on the field of battle, Ramon de Segrave is appointed to the Council of Barons by Richard the Lionheart. But instead of taking his most formidable warrior on his latest Crusade, the king assigns Ramon an even more dangerous task—woo and win the Lady of Thistle Keep.

If only she’d yield her heart

Isabel of Camoys is a capable widow with no intention of surrendering her valuable estate. She’s fought long and hard for her independence, and if the price is loneliness, then so be it. She will not yield…even if she does find the powerful knight’s heated embrace impossible to ignore. But when her land is threatened, Isabel reluctantly agrees to allow Ramon and his army to defend the keep— knowing that the price may very well be her heart.

Exclusive Excerpt

“What shocks you lady?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “A knight of honor may share a bed with a widow so long as his sword is placed down the center of it.” He reached over and lifted his sword in one sure motion and placed it on the surface of the bed.

“That is acceptable within the chivalric code.” Triumph flickered in his eyes as his lips curled into a victory smile.

The man was attempting to outmaneuver her.

Isabel tried to resist admitting that Ramon de Segrave was very good at forming strategy.

Far too good.

“I will sleep elsewhere.” She kept her tone low, to hide the emotions that were roaring through her. She struggled to remain poised and calm so the beast wouldn’t know how much he needled her.

“There is not a foot of space anywhere in this keep not being used by my knights.”

“But—”

He turned and picked his goblet back up. “I have spoken.”

Isabel lost her patience. “Indeed you have, Sir Ramon, but that does not mean I shall meekly obey you. One of the reasons I have declined to wed you is that I have no desire to be submissive.”

“Ahh…” He chuckled and set the goblet down. “I have noticed you play the game of meekness when it suits you and only when you have something to gain from doing so.”

She felt her breath lodged in her throat. “That is insulting of you to say,” she sputtered at last.

He watched her over the rim of his goblet, his eyes full of some emotion that looked very much like enjoyment. “I mean it as a compliment, Isabel. I enjoy the vixen in you.” He used her name deliberately, drawing it out in his deep voice. His gaze traveled over her hair. “You are too young for a widow’s wimple.”

“Yet I am a widow, and your eyes are too bold by far.” Her hands settled on her hips. “A true knight does not leer at a lady.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Ah…but a lady does not look at a man’s form, even if he stands in front of her.” He set the goblet aside. “Yet you looked, and I dare say you were pleased at the sight.”

“You dare too much.” He was also too correct for her comfort. “It seems you have honor only when it suits your agenda.”

His eyes flashed with warning. Isabel stepped back, but it was too late.

“As I warned you, question my honor and I shall be happy to show you how I deal with a vixen.”

“I am not a vixen,” she said. “Go back to the hall if that is the sort of entertainment you seek.”

She stopped, but he remained in place, watching her from beneath lowered brows. “To the women you set upon me?”

The judgment in his tone was impossible to hide from. What she had done was questionable at best. Less than honorable at worst. But she wasn’t repentant. She squared off with him.

“It was no worse than you hauling me across your saddle for the entertainment of all.”

“It was,” he agreed.

His expression should have filled her with foreboding. Instead she discovered herself pleased to have landed a blow worthy of gaining an admission from him.

Isabel lifted her chin, victory warming her. “If you seek some sort of apology, you shall not hear it. You had no right to treat me as you did or to kiss me.”

A warning flashed in his eyes. “What I seek is the ability to keep you from retiring after delivering your last blow. When you start a competition with me, be prepared for me to battle until the bitter end.” He closed the distance between them once more and she winced as she heard each soft foot fall. “And you enjoy my kisses.”

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About Mary Wine

Acclaimed author Mary Wine has written over 30 works of erotic fantasy, romantic suspense, and historical romance. An avid history-buff and historical costumer, she and her family enjoy participating in historical reenactments. Mary lives with her husband and two sons in Yorba Linda, California.

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