I am so proud to announce to the re-release of Blood Keep! Through much agony, rewriting and editing, Blood Keep shines as never before and I am so excited to show the world what I've done that I am holding a contest to celebrate. I will pick three names from all who leave me a comment. Cheers!
PURCHASE LINK: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/blood-keep-by-wend-petzler/
“Sir Drago, I’ll have my letter now.”
Clearing his throat, he fought the urge to retort, reminding himself of her station and his lack of one. Osric handed it to him. When she withdrew a white handkerchief from under her chain mail and wiped away the sweat collecting along her brow, he asked, “My lady, are you in need of a physician?”
Otto and Brandon rushed forward, alarmed by his question. Isabella’s hand whipped up, halting them. “The letter?” She coldly eyes him as she waited for him to place the letter into her extended hand.
Scowling, Nicolas did so and returned to his seat, retrieving his cup. Eyes narrowed, he watched her as she broke the wax seal. Scanning the contents, he saw the blood drain from her face, and rage contorted her lush mouth into a snarl as she speared him with such hate and fury he actually recoiled in his seat.
Jumping to her feet, she shook the letter in her left hand at him as her right tightened around the hilt of her sword. “Have you any prior knowledge to the contents in the letter I have?”
Wary, he shook his head. “I have none, my lady. Why do you ask?”
She leaned nearer to him, as if searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. Swallowing hard, he met her furious gaze steadily. Dear Lord in Heaven, what the hell was in that letter?
Apparently satisfied, Isabella released her sword and returned to her chair with an air of defeat. She motioned for Otto and Brandon to approach, giving them the letter. Together, they read it and abruptly looked to her, then to Nicolas, who was about to scream from the strained silence.
Unable to take it anymore, Nicolas jabbed a finger at the letter. “What did His Grace, King Edward write?”
“Here. Read it for yourself.” She took it from her men and tossed the letter to him. “I believe you’ll find the irony of it to be quite amusing.”
Taking up the parchment, Nicolas quickly read the contents, halting at the word “marriage”. Jaw dropping, he looked up at the seething woman. The hatred burning in those beautiful eyes confirmed it. The King had decided it time for Lady Isabella to remarry, allowing her to choose between him and Lord Alden. Grinding his teeth, he realized they both had been maneuvered by the King of England!
Whom would she choose?
Her next words left him reeling.
“When do you, my lord, wish to wed?”
Stunned, he stared at her dumbly. Never having given marriage a serious thought, content in serving King Edward, he was forced to face it immediately. The merits of marrying Lady Isabella were enormous. The upside—he would become a baron, rich and powerful, an entire army at his command. However, the downside saw him married to a strong-willed woman who rode a possessed piece of horseflesh named Lucifer! Damn, he needed more time to consider if marriage to the Baroness would be a suitable fit—for him!
Quite certain Lady Isabella desired not to marry any more than he did, Nicolas called her bluff. “When do you wish to have the ceremony?” Uncertainty flushed her sallow features, then was replaced by a cold, calculating expression. Suddenly, he wasn’t so assured of himself around the unpredictable female.
“Brandon, fetch Father Abraham! We wed in one quarter of an hour. Does that suit you, my lord?” She glared at Nicolas.