Make Mine a Marine

Make Mine a Marine

Boxed Set

Julie Miller

Make Mine a Marine: Boxed Set

Copyright 2014
Julie Miller

Cover design by Sherry A. Siwinski

Photo Copyright Oleksandr Petrunovsky, Sergey Kamshylin,
123RF.com

Immortal Heart

Copyright 1997, Revised 2011Julie Mille
r

Cover design by Prairie Muse utilizing selected photos from Les3photo8
Dreamstime.com

Shadow of the Hawk

Copyright 1999, Revised 2011 Julie Miller

Cover design by Prairie Muse utilizing selected photos from

Markstout, Denis Kartavenko, Frenta
Dreamstime.com

Always Faithful

Copyright 2000, Revised 2012 Julie Miller

Cover design by Prairie Muse utilizing selected photos from

Luis Francisco Cordero; Ekhphoto, Marianna Kosmina
Dreamstime.com

Formatted by
IRONHORSE Formatting

Smashwords Edition

The individual titles in this boxed set were previously published and have been revised and updated from their original print versions.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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ISBN: 978-0-9916513-0-6

Table of Contents

Immortal Heart

Shadow of the Hawk

Always Faithful

About the Author

Julie Miller

For Gran.

Thanks to Mom and Dad for making me believe, and giving me the will to do it.

Thanks to Scott and Ryne for their support, and doing the male bonding thing so I could get this done.

And to the real Duke – you’ll always be my sweetheart.

Prologue

A remote corner of England, c. 1216

Flames ripped through the night as another timber fell from the ceiling to the dungeon floor, casting an eerie phantasm of light over the clanging swords and thrusting, twisting bodies of men in combat.

The rebels surged forward, sheer number giving them their only strength against their oppressors. The soldiers should have been easily taken, their cruel devices easily destroyed, but darker forces aided them. And the rebels had no such powers for themselves.

Simple peasants, the rebels knew nothing of war. Nothing of magic spells. Nothing of combating tyranny and oppression. They fought against the minions of a former counselor to the crown, a high priest of mysterious power bent on securing the loyalty and tribute of the remote villagers.

They faced an enemy, not of flesh and blood, but of shadows and evil. Soldiers could be gutted with a dagger or run through with a sword. But a sorcerer...

It seemed no weapon could defeat him.

Still, the peasants had a champion, an aging knight who had long stood against King John. He thought he had retired that day at Runnymede when he and other barons forced the king to sign the Magna Carta, putting into law the ideals of justice and honor he believed in.

But when he had passed through the peasant villages and seen how their spirits were abused, how their backs were broken, and how their hopes were shattered, the mighty warrior took up his sword once more. Weary of battle, but never of the cause of justice, he rallied the peasants and urged them onward through the sorcerer's dungeon.

He swung his heavy sword in a mighty arc, striking a guard in the neck and shoulder, felling him with the blow. Another uniformed opponent stepped out of the smoke. The warrior spun around, splitting the man in two with his knife.

He surged forward, his pale eyes cutting through the haze of smoke to spot the sorcerer. The evil man's silvery-white robe, with an odd arrangement of stars and half-moons embroidered with iridescent gold threads, glowed like a beacon in the dimness of the burning castle above them.

“Sorcerer!” he bellowed. The graying visage turned toward the challenge and the warrior strode onward. “These people are not yours to command and defile. Be gone from this place. Take your evil and suffering with you!”

He tucked his dagger beneath his tunic and clasped the sword in both hands. All the while, the sorcerer fixed his eyes on him. Those eyes burned into the warrior's memory. He would never forget them. Dark and mocking. Devoid of humanity.

“You threaten me?” The sorcerer laughed, not once flinching from the advancing warrior with his sword raised to kill. “Even now, your cowardly comrades flee. They run from what they cannot understand. They leave you to fight alone.”

“I would die before I'd run from an evil being like you.”

“If you wish.” The sorcerer flicked his hand into the air and the warrior's sword crashed to the stones at his feet. “Your puny rebellion does not amuse me. You shall pay the price.”

“I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands.” He reached out but felt himself pushing against an invisible wall. Rage swelled within him. “Damn you!”

“Father!” A third voice severed their duel. “Please, no more!”

The warrior stumbled forward as the unseen wall crumbled with the sorcerer's distraction. A torch flared to life, illuminating the aura of dust and smoke engulfing him. Instead of closing his hands about the sorcerer's throat, he, too, turned.

The maiden stood between two peasants, a captured prisoner. Her tearstained face trembled as one man clutched her tightly and held the point of his sword to her throat. A second spoke.

“Release our village and farms from your spells. Take away your soldiers and return to the place from whence you came. Or else we'll slit your daughter's throat.”

“No, she is an innocent!” The warrior's protest surprised them all.

“Do you not stand with us?” the peasant demanded. “Do you not see this is the only power we have over him? Look how his spells are broken when he fears for her safety.”

A shadow passed across the sorcerer's black eyes. “If you harm her, I will bring a wrath of destruction upon you that your descendants shall never forget.”

“Father, no. Please. No more.”

The girl's plea touched a chord in the warrior's heart. He'd seen too much killing in his time to stand by and watch the slaughter of an innocent, no matter where her allegiance lay. “Release her.”

“You would betray our cause?” The peasant drew his knife and pointed it at the girl's stomach. In a brashness born of years of despair, he plunged the knife into the folds of her cloak.

But the warrior knew more of fighting than did the peasant. He lunged forward and twisted the peasant's arm, sending the knife skittering into the darkness. He shoved the peasant with the sword aside, and positioned himself beside the girl.

“Betrayer!” The first peasant rushed at the warrior. “He'll kill us all!”

The warrior pushed the girl toward her father and braced to face the angry peasant. In that same instant, the sorcerer flattened his palm and shoved it skyward, muttering a foreign incantation that sent the attacker flying through the air. The man landed in a heap, dead as though struck with a blow to the head.

The peasant with the sword ran, but the sorcerer touched his ring. The man stumbled and fell, his neck broken.

“No!” screamed the warrior. “She lives! Stop the killing!”

Enraged by the senseless deaths, and knowing there would be countless others if the madman wasn't stopped, the warrior picked up the sword of the fallen peasant. He raised it above his head.

The sorcerer didn't sense the attack until it was too late. He reached for his ring. But before he could utter one word, his daughter jumped into the path.

“Not Father!”

The mighty blade sailed through the air. The warrior cried out, powerless to stop its flight as it sliced through the only shield the sorcerer possessed.

His daughter.

The girl toppled to the floor, instantly dead. The sorcerer wailed unintelligibly and dropped beside her, cradling her spiritless body in his arms.

Horrified by his deed, the warrior fell to his knees. He bowed his head and prayed for a forgiveness he could not give himself. “I didn't mean
…Forgive me.…”

He lifted his gaze to the sorcerer. There were no words he could say. He had slaughtered the very innocent he meant to protect.

The sorcerer rose, removed his cloak, and draped the silver and gold shroud over the girl's body. “For this, they will all die.”

“No!” The warrior shot his head up. “Take me instead! Punish me!”

“I intend to.” The sorcerer's voice echoed with a hollowness that extended to another time. He turned, extending his hand toward the warrior. But it was not a gesture of conciliation. His eyes blazed with an eerie force before he spoke again. “You have taken the one thing that mattered to me in this world. My child. My future. You shall know the same anguish I know.”

A chilling numbness crept into the warrior's limbs. He grew weaker, powerless to fight off the dizzying sensation.

“My wife is long dead, and my daughter was all that remained of her. You, too, shall never know a woman's love. Nor shall you ever sire a child.”

The warrior collapsed to the floor beside the dead girl. The smoke thickened. His lungs struggled to fill with air. The sorcerer was killing him. Through some evil power of the mind, he was killing him. Slowly, by degrees.

The warrior's mouth went dry. “Spare the villagers. Punish me alone, I beg you.”

“Punish you, I shall. I swear eternal vengeance upon your soul.”

Smoke clouded the warrior's vision. He lay paralyzed on the cold stone floor.

“Not until the one you love is willingly sacrificed in exchange for your life will you ever know peace.”

Mist filled the warrior's head. The sorcerer's incantations made no sense. The sorcerer touched the warrior's chest, scorching his skin. “I mark you now. You are a visible tribute to this day's battle. You will bear witness to every battle you fight.

“You wish to fight for a noble cause. You wish to give your life defending those weaker than you.” The sorcerer looked down on the warrior, laughing with a sound that haunted the warrior's soul. “I promise you will spend eternity doing just that.”

The warrior's eyes shut and the last mortal gasp left his body.