The Lady and the Falconer
Read The Lady and the Falconer Online
Authors: Laurel O'Donnell
Tags: #historical romance, #romance novels, #medieval romance, #romance adventure, #romance ebooks, #Fiction, #Romance, #romance books, #Historical, #romance author
By Laurel O’Donnell
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Laurel O’Donnell
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Table of Contents
Free Bonus Preview of The Angel and the Prince
Free Bonus Preview of A Knight of Honor
Reviews for books by Laurel O’Donnell
Praise for
The Lady and the Falconer
“Medieval readers will find The Lady and the Falconer a highly satisfying, well crafted story that fills their craving for a tale of medieval intrigue and passion.”
- Romantic Times Magazine
“What a good book! Engrossing and enticing.”
“In a word, HOT! Wonderful book! Well written! Exciting!”
- Amazon Reviews
Praise for
A Knight of Honor
“The action never slows in this adventurous tale.”
- Romantic Times Magazine
Winner of the Holt Medallion Award for Best Medieval Novel
Praise for
The Angel and the Prince
“Pageantry, excitement and high adventure brought to vivid life.”
- Flora Speer, author of FOR LOVE AND HONOR
“A wonderful debut, lush, sensual, and rich in history.”
- Jane Kidder, author of PASSION’S GIFT
“This extraordinary tale offers non-stop action, unforgettable characters and a sensuous romance, the likes of which ballads are written. This romance will capture your heart and your imagination.”
- Rendezvous Magazine
“Wow! A magnificent tale that builds tension till you want to explode!”
- Affaire de Coeur
Nominated for the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award
by
Laurel O’Donnell
England, 1373
“R
eady or not, here I come!” a young girl’s voice cried out in the distance.
Solace Farindale pressed a hand over her mouth and giggled, scrunching lower behind three bales of hay. She didn’t know where her friend Gwen was hiding because as soon as Helen had begun counting, she’d run into the barn and dove behind the hay. Lillian, her maidservant, would no doubt be angry that she had dirtied her new velvet dress, but Solace couldn’t resist such a perfect hiding place. The sweet smell of straw filled her nose, and several strands tickled her back as she settled into her spot. She loved coming to visit Helen on her farm. She and Gwen had begged their fathers to let them go, just for the afternoon, and after much pleading the men had reluctantly agreed. It was half a morning’s ride from Gwen’s home, but well worth it.
Finally, after a brief moment of expectant waiting, Solace peeked through a slit between the hay bales. The barn was empty. Several stalls that used to house horses now stood vacant. Solace knew Helen’s parents had to sell the beasts off because their crops had yielded a poor harvest last year. Solace scanned the narrow area of the barn that she could see through the opening, but there was still no sign of Helen. She shrugged and settled back to wait.
Then she heard the barn door creak open. Her eyes widened and again she placed a hand over her mouth as she slid lower behind the hay, afraid her giggles would give her away. But there was no scurry of searching feet, no calls of her name.
Solace shifted and peered through the slit between the hay bales. She glimpsed a woman grabbing a rusty bucket from the ground and carrying it to an empty stall across from her. It was only Helen’s mother, Anne. Solace’s gaze flew to the door. Where is Helen? she wondered.
Anne placed the bucket on the ground next to a small pile of seeds. She scooped up a handful with her cupped palm and dumped them into the bucket.
“Good afternoon, Anne,” a man called out. His deep, guttural voice gave the greeting a harshness that belied the innocence of his words.
Solace heard Anne gasp and she tilted her head, leaning closer to the narrow opening between the bales. She saw two men dressed in chain mail lurking near the door and one man standing inside the barn. She nervously twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger as a feeling of fear engulfed her. The tall man wasn’t a good man. She could sense the evil in him, as if a dark cloud belonged over his head. His hair was immaculate, styled in a fashionable bowl-cut, black as the night. The red velvet of his jupon was tailored to his chest and arms, padded somewhat at the chest and shoulders to accent their broadness. The collar reached all the way to his neck. He had the coldest blue stare she had ever seen.