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You have JUST GOT to see what my FIRST REVIEW LOOKS like.
I am humbled, awed, inspired, and jumping for joy.
http://www.adrisinclair.com/how-i-went-to-scotland-on-a-horse-by-adri-sinclair/
COMING NOVEMBER 18th!!!!
COVER BLURB!
What foul devilry is this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry? Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. The pain would be too much to bear should he ever leave again.
Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have in his travels? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her fierce scowls, the Templar knight decides to wed and win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Ahead, evil deeds await, laced with castles, kidnappings, and secrets. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in death will he rekindle the passion they once shared.
EXCERPT:
“My lord, your castle awaits to the north and your relatives may be held captive. We must turn back.” The words were spoken by Harold-the-Younger who would be forgiven, just this once, for his impertinence.
“And my wife is missing. Thank you for stating the obvious. If you can’t be more helpful, I suggest your mouth be best used for taking in breath.”
Jacob pointed down the river. “There. What’s that?”
Thomas’ heart sank. A flat bottomed boat lay bobbing upside down against the bank of the river. A woman’s body lay beside it in a pool of blood. He swallowed hard and dug spurs into Demon’s side. His charger tossed his head, snorted, and veered, but Thomas gained control and raced toward the grisly scene.
A dog chewed at a headless mass of flesh and snarled. He kicked the animal away, squatted, and cursed. Pieces of Merry’s bloodied tunic twisted among the innards. He dropped to his knees and shouted with first raised into the air. “Be ye damned forever.” Part of the curse was for whoever had just killed her, the other for God, and lastly for himself.
Assessing the gore was the hardest thing he’d ever done. What was left of the flesh had the length and breadth of his wife. One arm was cleaved at the wrist. His soul refused to acknowledge the scene in front of his eyes and he refused to mourn. Not yet. He’d find the bastard who’d done this to her, cleave him in to small bits, and let the vultures feed.
A horse whinnied behind him and Jacob’s flat voice spoke, “The head is gone.”
“Let me be. I’ll bury her. Alone.” He gathered stones and placed them beside the body.
“It’s way too opportune that the poor woman’s head and hand are missing. I smell a ruse.”
The blackness that threatened to devour his soul wouldn’t let in one ray of hope. “Do as you will. I’ll bury what’s left of her.”
Thomas scoured the flood plain for a sign of her. Was it possible? Crows circled above, but other than that, the land lay bare. All signs and tracks around the body had been swept away. The coward was clever. About a mile beyond, a forest loomed. Perhaps the woman-slayer trembled there.
Having no shovel, but many a stone, Thomas moved the body parts to a central area and covered them. With none to watch, tears came unbidden as he placed the last round stone atop what was left of her body. He gasped for air, knowing not how to go on, but knowing he must for his little son.
“What say you, lass? You were right. Better that I should’ve stayed dead.”
Memories, detecting the flaw in his mail, attacked without mercy. Six years ago, he’d spied her across the room with the devil in her eyes. She’d smiled boldly at him and giggled with her friends. The first time they’d sat together at table, he’d fed her like a baby bird and cut her food. All in the great dining room watched, knowing that in the doing so he’d claimed her.
He recalled that fateful night, when they’d hand-fasted before God. She’d begged him to take her and he’d been too weak to resist completely. He’d promised to come back after trading in London and marry her. How was he to know that Marcus would send him abroad at the king’s request? His soul howled, never to be consoled again.
He sobbed, falling upon his knees, with his hands covering his face. Forgive me. He’d loved with her that night as much as he’d dared. So beautiful her lovely sighs, so bountiful her breasts. She’d opened her legs and accepted his hand until she’d come undone. Mayhap a holier man could have resisted her offerings, but oh no, not him. Nay. He took all but her virginity and remembered how sweet the agony to spew his seed between her legs.
He allowed one more moment of self-pity, planted the final rock upon her grave, and squeezed his eyes as they burned. He apologized for his blasphemy and prayed God to take his angel into heaven and allow him to meet her there anon. First, he would seek revenge and see to the welfare of his son.
His eyes popped open when the grasses rustled in front of him and the ground opened up. A muddy black demon arose with shiny eyes and yellow teeth. Grinning, it exited the hole with a most ordinary sword held high. Then there was naught, but darkness.
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