After a long absence from court, Vampire Slayer Rosalind
Llewellen receives a summons to return to court to assist
in protecting the King from Vampire threats. Rosalind is
not looking forward to seeing her betrothed, Christopher
Ellis, especially since he has not made one attempt to
contact her during her absence. To Rosalind's dismay, the
King is surrounded by Vampires striving to take over the
throne, leaving Rosalind to risk her life many times to
find a way to keep the King safe. Rosalind must sacrifice
her feelings for Christopher as his relationship with the
King's mistress becomes important.
Christopher Ellis' need for Rosalind Llewellen is
frustrating and even after a year without seeing her, his
feelings are just as strong as before she left.
Unfortunately, his allies and friends don't like
Christopher's betrothal to Rosalind, considering it a
betrayal to his kind, but everyone in power to change it
refuses to petition the King. Christopher and Rosalind put
their relationship to the test as he uses his connections
with the King's mistress to gain information on the Vampire
plot. Christopher can only hope he can stay alive long
enough to see where his future is going.
BLOOD OF THE ROSE, the 2nd book in the Tudor Vampire
Chronicles, is passionate and fresh with a unique twist on
European history and creatively new Vampire lore. A not-to-
be-missed read.
When Rosalind Llewellyn had to join forces with her enemy,
Christopher Ellis to defeat a rogue Vampire threatening
Henry VIII, their alliance led to a surprising passion.
Reunited after a years separation, they face a new threat
that could destroy their last chance at happiness.
Christopher is delighted by the spectacular rise at court
of his friends George and Anne Boleyn. But Rosalind
suspects Lady Anne is up to no good-she may even be a
Vampire who’s bewitched the king. Now Rosalind must fight
to keep Christopher from falling under the woman’s
mysterious spell. It isn’t until Anne reveals a dark
secret that Christopher awakens to where the true danger
lies-and he begins to play a desperate game in order to
save the woman he loves…
Richmond Palace.
The court of King Henry VIII
Summer, 1530Rosalind Llewellyn slid off her horse and immediately
grabbed hold of the bridle. After a long day in the saddle,
her legs seemed unable to meet the hardness of the ground
and bowed like the branches of a willow tree. She glanced
around the familiar royal stable yard and heaved a sigh. It
was late evening, and everything was quiet. Despite her
long absence, nothing had changed. Even the same horses’
heads were framed in the half-open stalls and the same
voices called out to one another.
She glanced at her companion, Rhys Williams, who was busy
removing their belongings from the packs and simultaneously
inquiring as to where he should stable the horses. Rhys
looked the same as well—if she discounted a certain grim
set to his features when he looked at her.
“Can I help, Rhys?”
“No, my lady, why don’t you just stand there in the way
instead?”
Rosalind threw him a cross look. “I’m too tired to argue
with you, Rhys. Just tell me what to do and I’ll be glad to
help.”
He doffed his cap at her, revealing the dark auburn of his
hair. “Then perhaps my lady might move the bags behind the
safety of the wall? I’d hate the horses to trip.”
“Or for any of my belongings to be crushed,” Rosalind
muttered, as she gathered the first of the leather
saddlebags and hefted it over the wall. Rhys cocked an
eyebrow at her as she continued her task.
“You seem a little out of sorts, my lady.”
“Of course I am. I didn’t expect to come back to court. My
cousin Jasper is perfectly capable of guarding the king.
I’m not sure why I had to return at all.”
Rhys grinned at her as he led the first of the horses into
one of the vacant stalls. “Coward.”
The smell of fresh grain and horse dung drifted back to
Rosalind. She waited for him to return, her task forgotten,
her hands planted on her hips. “What exactly is that
supposed to mean?”
He took her horse’s bridle in his gloved hand. “You know.”
“Are you saying I didn’t want to return to court for a
specific reason? You might remember that I almost died last
time I was here.”
“Oh, I remember.” His smile faded. “I was right there
beside you. You probably don’t remember that part, being as
you were too busy making cow eyes at Christopher Ellis.”
“I was busy trying to kill the Vampire!”
He bowed. “As were we all. It didn’t stop you becoming
involved with that soul-sucking Druid slayer, though, did
it?”
He stomped off again and Rosalind could only stare
helplessly at his broad back. It was true that she’d become
intimately involved with Christopher, but Rhys knew
perfectly well why that had happened. Between her Druid
gods and the king, she had been caught very neatly in a
sensual trap that she had still not managed to escape.
Rhys returned, his face severe. He picked up the heaviest
of the bags and heaved it over the low stone wall. “The
rest of your belongings should be here by the end of the
week, if the carrier makes good time.”
“Thank you. I believe I have enough to clothe myself
decently for at least a few days.” Rosalind touched his
leather-clad arm. “Rhys, if you want to return to Wales, I
would quite understand.”
He looked down at her, his hazel eyes full of wry
amusement, his lilting voice lowered to a soft murmur. “Are
you trying to get rid of me?”
Rosalind sighed. “I’m trying to avoid hurting you.”
“Because you plan on taking up with the newly elevated Lord
Christopher Ellis?”
Rosalind raised her chin. “Officially and spiritually I am
still betrothed to him.” She frowned. “I can’t quite
believe my grandfather has allowed the betrothal to
continue, but there it is. As Lord Christopher’s betrothed,
I am somewhat obliged to seek him out.”
“Obliged, eh?” Rhys flicked her nose. “Cariad, you can call
it what you like, but I know you want him and that you
don’t want me. I’ll try not to let it interfere with my job
of protecting you.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore.” Rosalind groused and
moved out of the way of an incoming horse and rider arrayed
in the king’s livery. “Christopher hasn’t bothered to
contact me and express an opinion as to our. . .situation.”
Rhys helped her over the stable wall, his hands firm on her
waist. “He could hardly come prancing into your father’s
stronghold, now, could he? He would’ve been killed on
sight.”
“That’s true, I suppose, but… it would’ve been nice if he’d
made the attempt. Or even just written me a letter!”
“And I thought you were deliberately lingering at home to
avoid him and the king. Sometimes I’m glad I’m no longer
one of your suitors. You have a somewhat bloodthirsty
streak.” Rhys handed her the lightest bag, which contained
her jewelry, coins and favorite silver dagger. “The
position of your lover seems fraught with danger.”
“I can’t help that.” Rosalind took the well-worn path that
wound up from the stables to the main wing of the palace.
She glanced across at the ruined Roman bathhouse where
she’d met with Christopher and the others on her last visit
to court. Was he even here? She had no sense of him yet. In
the last year, she’d perfected her barriers against him in
anticipation of having to see him again, especially if he
turned up on the opposite side of a fight.
The last time she’d seen Christopher it had been spring.
She and Rhys had fled the court, intent on making it back
to Wales before the king’s message about her betrothal to
one of her family’s worst enemies reached her grandfather.
They hadn’t made it in time, and Rosalind had endured her
grandfather’s wrath on the subject for several weeks until
he’d finally gone quiet and left her alone. That had
worried her even more.
She straightened her shoulders and focused on the welcoming
lights streaming out of the palace. She would talk to her
cousin Jasper tomorrow and see what calamity had arisen
that had made him write to her grandfather and insist she
return to court. Both she and Christopher had suspected
another Vampire plot was in the offing. The urgency the
Vampire Council felt about defeating the rogue Vampire,
Lady Celia Del Alonso, was quite out of character for them.
It was almost as if Lady Celia had been seen as an
obstacle. Or a distraction. As if there was a grander
scheme afoot, or someone more powerful and likely to be
even more successful in controlling or killing the king.
Rhys paused by the doorway into the maids of honors’
quarters and deposited her bags on the ground. “Your
grandfather wrote to Queen Katherine to ask for permission
for you to return to court. But, from what the stable boy
just told me, I’m not certain if she is still in residence
here.”
“Then where is she?”
“I’m not sure.” He grimaced. “Apparently, the king does not
wish to gaze upon her visage. She reminds him of his lack
of an heir.”
“That is so unfair.”
“I can’t help but agree. The queen is steadfast in her love
for the king, but he seems to have moved on to other, more
agreeable conquests. Life can be cruel sometimes.”
Unwilling to delve into the thorny subject of love with
Rhys yet again, Rosalind rose on tiptoe to pat his
cheek. “I’m sure I can prevail on someone to give me a bed.
Thank you for coming back with me.”
His smile this time was definitely rueful. “I didn’t have
much of a choice, did I? Your grandfather was most
insistent that I accompany you.” He paused. “And I haven’t
quite given up hope that Lord Christopher Ellis might come
to regret your betrothal and send you back into my arms.”
“Rhys…”
He winked at her and disappeared into the darkness heading
for the stable yard. Rosalind stared after him. Surely he
hadn’t meant it? She’d done everything she could over the
last few months to convince him that she was a lost cause.
Whether she was reunited with Christopher or not, she
couldn’t see herself turning to Rhys. He deserved more than
that, deserved to be first with a woman rather than know he
would always be second-best.
And he would be second-best. Rosalind closed her eyes and
tried to imagine Christopher’s expression when he saw her.
Would he be pleased or horrified? She couldn’t decide how
she felt about seeing him again. All she knew was that he’d
stolen her heart, her mind and her body, and she would
never be the same again.
Christopher Ellis slowly opened his eyes and gazed around
the Great Hall. He’d fallen asleep over his ale again, his
face cushioned on the trestle table, his boots digging into
the musty rushes that covered the floor. Something had
woken him up, some sense of danger or premonition. Since
tangling with the ancient Spanish Vampire last year, he’d
learned to pay close attention to his instincts.
“Lord Christopher.”
He sat up, his dagger already in his hand, and found
himself staring at Elias Warner, the Vampire Council’s
representative at court. Elias had the kind of golden looks
that made the ladies of the court swoon over him.
Christopher saw only the flatness of his silver eyes, the
hint of the blood-sucking predator beneath the mask of
humanity.
“Master Warner. Where have you been these past few months?
Anyone might think you’ve been avoiding the court.”
A small smile twitched on Elias’s pale lips, displaying the
tips of his fangs. “I’ve been busy, my lord.”
“I’m sure you have.” Christopher sat back and tried to look
nonchalant. Elias wasn’t one for idle chatter. If he openly
sought Christopher’s company, there was a reason. “How can
I help you?”
Elias glanced around at the sleeping hordes and leaned
closer. “I only wish to make a suggestion.”
Christopher raised his eyebrows. “About what?”
“Your continued safety.” Elias nodded. “The Vampire Council
appreciates your recent actions toward those members of its
community that it values most highly. The Council wishes
you to continue to protect and value those individuals.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Elias. Of
course, I protect your community. That has been my family’s
job for centuries.”
Elias’s smile was not pleasant. “Indeed, we value the Ellis
family enormously.” He hesitated. “And we would hate to
have to dispense with the services of any single member of
that family if he formed alliances that were not in our
interest.”
Christopher stood up and checked that his sword was in
place. He stepped over his drinking companion’s legs and
headed toward the nearest door. “Are you talking about
my ‘alliance’ with Rosalind Llewellyn?”
“I did not say that. But I understand that you are still
betrothed to her.”
“That is so.”
“I do not understand why.”
Christopher shrugged. “Because neither my uncle, nor the
Llewellyn family, has succeeded in petitioning the king for
our release. The king has been rather preoccupied recently.”
“Indeed, he has.” Elias’s silver gaze flicked up to meet
Christopher’s. “But perhaps your families approve of the
connection after all.”
Christopher chuckled. “My uncle almost ran me through with
his sword when he heard what had happened. I doubt he
approves.”
“And yet, the Llewellyns have stayed their hand as well…”
Elias sighed. “It seems as if you are tied to the Vampire
slayer for good.”
Christopher tried to keep his voice bland. “At least for a
while, until one of the families comes up with something to
entice the king to break the betrothal.” A flicker of
distaste crossed Elias’s face. “You don’t like her at all,
do you?”
“On the contrary. But speaking from a practical standpoint,
she is a dangerous woman.”
“She is indeed.” Christopher pictured Rosalind, her dark
hair tangled in his fingers, her body and thoughts enmeshed
with his as he made love to her again and again. Heat
blossomed in his mind and in his groin, and he thrust her
image away. Elias was far too perceptive for Christopher to
drop his guard.
They’d reached the door of the Great Hall and Christopher
pushed it open. The rush of night air was warm and scented
with flowers. He breathed in deeply, allowed the fragrance
to settle him and remove the taste of Rosalind from his
senses. Something was different. Everything looked the same
but, everything had changed. . . he turned back to Elias.
“Now that you have delivered your cryptic message, is there
anything else you wanted to say before you disappear again?”
“I think I made myself clear, my lord. I wish you good
fortune.” Elias bowed and was gone before Christopher had
time to blink.
“Not clear at all,” Christopher muttered. Something was
afoot and he had no idea what. He hated that, hated the way
it added to the frustration already raging through him. He
was at odds with his family, his Vampire allies and
himself, and all because of Rosalind Llewellyn.
He looked around again. His mind was playing tricks on him.
He could almost feel her in his arms, in his thoughts, even
taste her. . .He shook his head to clear the strange
sensation. Rosalind was safe in deepest Wales, surrounded
by her family, and attended by Rhys Williams, who’d
probably done his best to persuade her into his bed by now.
Christopher slammed his hand against the oak door. And,
more fool him, he had let her go, convinced she would
return to him.
Christopher muttered an oath and decided to seek his bed.
He had a demanding day filled with sporting activities
planned for tomorrow, and needed to be up early to make the
journey to Hampton Court to attend the king. He followed
the ragged path that led along the side of the Great Hall,
his dagger at the ready, his mind unsettled as he tried to
puzzle through Elias’s ‘message.’
As he rounded the corner of the massive structure, a shadow
leapt out at him and before he even realized it, he found
himself in the midst of a fight. There were two men, and
despite his best efforts, he couldn’t withstand the
attentions of them both. He was soon slammed face-first
against the wall, his dagger hand wrenched up against his
spine and a blade at his throat.
“Christopher Ellis.”
He knew that voice, had trained alongside the man during
his younger, more reckless years. “Sir Marcus Flavian.”
They were of a similar age and ability, which was probably
why Marcus had the sense to bring reinforcements.
“You remember me. Good.” Marcus shifted his stance and
jerked Christopher’s wrist higher. “Then you will no doubt
understand why I am here.”
Christopher said nothing as he focused on controlling the
pain. Marcus laughed, the sound soft.
“You are required to present yourself at our next meeting
and explain your actions.”
The challenge and summons wasn’t unexpected. Ever since his
betrothal to Rosalind had become public, Christopher had
been expecting the Cult of Mithras to command his
appearance. The only surprise was that it had taken so
long. He fought back a groan as Marcus twisted his arm
again.
“You must have known we would want to question you about
your association with the Llewellyn bitch.”
Fury rose in Christopher’s gut, and he kicked out, caught
Marcus on the shin and off guard. He spun around and pushed
away from the wall with all his strength. The other man
made short work of helping Marcus recapture him, but
Christopher didn’t care. As he was thrown back against the
wall, he glared into Marcus’s calm grey eyes.
“I will answer to my superiors, not to you.”
“As you wish, but you will answer.” The blade of Marcus’s
dagger flicked out and nicked Christopher’s cheek. “Someone
will let you know when the meeting is.”
Christopher didn’t acknowledge either the blood now
trickling down his face or the other man’s statement. There
was nothing he could do to avoid the summons, and in truth,
he didn’t want to. Thanks to his uncle, he’d had his fill
of the Cult of Mithras years ago. Mayhap it was time for
him to express his doubts in person.
He watched as Marcus bowed, his blond hair glinting in the
moonlight, and then left with his companion. Christopher
wiped absently at the blood trickling down his neck. He
didn’t want any Vampires scenting an easy victim and coming
to feast on him. With a groan, he flexed his fingers and
hoped he’d still be able to use his right hand come the
morning.
Things were definitely getting interesting. He sighed and
went to look for his dagger, which he assumed had landed
somewhere in the scrubby foliage. Strange that both Elias
and Marcus Flavian had reappeared on the same night to warn
him of the consequences of his actions.
And a pity that the only way to leave the Cult of Mithras,
without dying of natural causes, was by execution.
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