Welcome back for the final week of our Winter edition of Medieval Monday Blog Hop. Today's snippet (quite a long snippet) is from yours truly. Curse of the Healer is book one in my latest series. It takes place in ancient Ireland - after the death of Brian Boru and before the Norman Invasion, when Ireland was ruled by The Warrior Kings. Enjoy!
“I am not alone.”
He followed her gaze, looking around the area. His thick, expressive brows raised high. “And yet I see no one else.”
In a sudden panic, she moved to stand—and immediately stumbled. Damn mushrooms were making her body feel limp. The man reached out a hand to steady her. His touch was hot. A strong grip like he didn’t want to let her go. Then he stood alongside her, close enough that she felt the heat pouring off him. A soothing heat she longed to know, to become lost in.
He tipped her chin up with a single finger at her jaw, and she looked into his face. He glanced at her lips, his longing evident, but still made no moves toward her. His scent enveloped her. She swayed toward him, wanting what he offered. Realization hit her and she jerked away.
“I have not ‘handed’ ye.” His tone remained playful, but he did not release her. “Ye’ve come willingly into my arms, Aednat.”
“I do not…” She rubbed at her head. An incessant pounding started at her temples. “Forgive me…”
“Ye have done nothing requiring forgiveness.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face and ran a gentle finger along her cheek. “Now if ye’d struck me? That would require my forgiveness and… so much more.”
Embarrassment washed over her, and she tried to right herself. She winced at the pain shooting through her head.
“I—I need to return.” She would have stumbled if he’d released her, but instead he swept her up into his strong arms, settling her against his solid chest as though she weighed nothing at all.
“I would prefer ye stay here. With me.” His husky voice vibrated throughout her body.
After the death of Brian Boru in 1014, a legend arose of a healer so great she could raise a man from the dead, with a power so strong it could make any warrior the next high king of Éire...and to steal it away from her, he need only possess her.
Fated to be a healer…
Aednat has spent her entire life training to be the great healer, knowing she must remain alone. When she meets Diarmuid, the intense attraction she feels toward him shakes her resolve to believe in such a legend. If she gives in to the passion he ignites in her, can she settle for being less?
Destined to be his…
Diarmuid of Clonascra is renowned for his bravery in battle. Only one thing daunts him: the prospect of taking a wife. The safest course would be to keep his distance from Aednat, the bold, headstrong healer who's far too tempting for his peace of mind. But his overking orders him to protect her from a group of craven warriors intent on kidnapping her to steal her power.
What starts as duty for Diarmuid quickly transforms into something more. Aednat's power might be at risk, but so is his closed-off heart.