Romance Wiki - User contributions [en]

Carol Townend

2017-11-02T17:47:11Z

Boglin19: /* Fiction */

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes medieval historical romances and sagas set in England and Europe. Born in Yorkshire, she went to a convent school in Whitby and studied history at Royal Holloway College, London.
Her first novel, [[Sapphire in the Snow]], won the RNA New Writers' Award. In 2013, [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] was shortlisted for the RoNA Rose Award. In 2015, [[Unveiling Lady Clare]] also reached the shortlist.
Carol's non-fiction writing includes dozens of articles for Writing Magazine and Writers' News, and a portrait of the Romanovs which introduces family portraits from the Imperial albums. Carol lives in London with her husband and daughter.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

= Books =

== Fiction ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress]]'' - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Rowena's Ruin]]'' - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Mistaken for a Lady]]'' - 2016 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[The Knight's Forbidden Princess]]'' - 2018 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2016-02-28T12:43:22Z

Boglin19:

Carol Townend

2016-02-28T12:41:50Z

Boglin19: /* Books */

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes medieval historical romances and sagas set in England and Europe. Born in Yorkshire, she went to a convent school in Whitby and studied history at Royal Holloway College, London.
Her first novel, [[Sapphire in the Snow]], won the RNA New Writers' Award. In 2013, [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] was shortlisted for the RoNA Rose Award.
Carol's non-fiction writing includes dozens of articles for Writing Magazine and Writers' News, and a portrait of the Romanovs which introduces family portraits from the Imperial albums. Carol lives in London with her husband and daughter.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

= Books =

== Fiction ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress]]'' - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Rowena's Ruin]]'' - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Mistaken for a Lady]]'' - 2016 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2015-06-21T18:35:41Z

Boglin19: added new title

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes medieval historical romances and sagas set in England and Europe. Born in Yorkshire, she went to a convent school in Whitby and studied history at Royal Holloway College, London.
Her first novel, [[Sapphire in the Snow]], won the RNA New Writers' Award. In 2013, [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] was shortlisted for the RoNA Rose Award.
Carol's non-fiction writing includes dozens of articles for Writing Magazine and Writers' News, and a portrait of the Romanovs which introduces family portraits from the Imperial albums. Carol lives in London with her husband and daughter.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

= Books =

== Fiction ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress]]'' - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Rowena's Ruin]]'' - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2014-08-19T15:55:39Z

Boglin19:

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes medieval historical romances and sagas set in England and Europe. Born in Yorkshire, she went to a convent school in Whitby and studied history at Royal Holloway College, London.
Her first novel, [[Sapphire in the Snow]], won the RNA New Writers' Award. In 2013, [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] was shortlisted for the RoNA Rose Award.
Carol's non-fiction writing includes dozens of articles for Writing Magazine and Writers' News, and a portrait of the Romanovs which introduces family portraits from the Imperial albums. Carol lives in London with her husband and daughter.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

= Books =

== Fiction ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress'']] - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2014-08-19T15:53:43Z

Boglin19: /* Books */

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes historical romances for Harlequin Mills & Boon. They are set in medieval England and Europe. Her first novel won the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Award. She has also written a number of articles for ''Writing Magazine'' and ''Writers' News''.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

= Books =

== Fiction ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress'']] - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2014-08-19T15:51:19Z

Boglin19: /* Fiction */

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes historical romances for Harlequin Mills & Boon. They are set in medieval England and Europe. Her first novel won the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Award. She has also written a number of articles for ''Writing Magazine'' and ''Writers' News''.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

= Books =

== Fiction ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress'' - 2015 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2013-06-14T11:26:09Z

Boglin19: /* Books */

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes historical romances for Harlequin Mills & Boon. They are set in medieval England and Europe. Her first novel won the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Award. She has also written a number of articles for ''Writing Magazine'' and ''Writers' News''.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

= Books =

== Fiction ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2013-06-14T11:24:12Z

Boglin19: /* Books */ added title

{{DEFAULTSORT: Townend, Carol}}
[[Category:Authors - T]]
[[Category:Historical Romance Authors]]
[[Category:Historical Romance]]
[[Category:Harlequin Historical Authors]]
[[Category:Mills and Boon Historical Romance Authors]]
[[category:English Authors]]

[[Carol Townend]] writes historical romances for Harlequin Mills & Boon. They are set in medieval England and Europe. Her first novel won the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Award. She has also written a number of articles for ''Writing Magazine'' and ''Writers' News''.

For latest news visit Carol's blogsite:
http://www.caroltownend.co.uk

== Books ==

* ''[[Shattered Vows - Carol Townend|Shattered Vows]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Sapphire In The Snow]]'' - 1989 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]] (This novel won the RNA New Writers' Award)
* ''[[Leaves On The Wind]]'' - 1990 - [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Stone Rose]]'' - 1992 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Blackthorn Winter]]'' - 1993 - [[Headline Book Publishing Ltd]]
* ''[[Royal Russia]]'' - 1995 - Smith Gryphon (non-fiction)
* ''[[The Novice Bride]]'' - 2007 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[An Honorable Rogue]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[His Captive Lady]]'' - 2008 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]]'' - 2009 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Her Banished Lord]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Bound To The Barbarian]]'' - 2010 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Chained To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Betrothed To The Barbarian]]'' - 2012 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Lady Isobel's Champion]]'' - 2013 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* ''[[Unveiling Lady Clare]]'' - 2014 - [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

Carol Townend

2013-04-06T09:55:45Z

Boglin19: /* Books */

Betrothed To The Barbarian

2011-10-25T17:25:36Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

==Related Titles==

Other books in the Palace Brides trilogy set in medieval Byzantium
* [[Bound to the Barbarian]] - 2010
* [[Chained to the Barbarian]] - 2012

Chained To The Barbarian

2011-10-25T17:25:03Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

==Related Titles==

Other books in the ''Palace Brides'' trilogy set in medieval Byzantium
* [[Bound to the Barbarian]] - 2010
* [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] - 2012

Bound To The Barbarian

2011-10-25T17:24:23Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

[[Category:Category Romance]][[Category: 2010 Releases]]

* '''Author:''' [[Carol Townend]]

* '''Publisher:''' [[Mills & Boon]]

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263881127

* '''Setting:''' Eleventh Century Byzantium

* '''Mini Series:''' Palace Brides

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Out of her depth and into his arms...

Sold into slavery, maidservant Katerina promised one day to repay the Princess who rescued her. Now that time has come, and Katerina must convince commanding warrior Ashfirth Saxon that she is her royal mistress.

Spending balmy days and long sultry nights with this man make Katerina's task increasingly impossible. How long will she be able to keep up her deception? And how long before she finds herself willingly bedded by this proud barbarian?

== Related Titles ==

Other books in the ''Palace Brides'' trilogy set in medieval Byzantium
* [[Chained to the Barbarian]] - 2012
* [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] - 2012

== Excerpt ==

to follow shortly

Betrothed To The Barbarian

2011-10-25T17:22:58Z

Boglin19: Created page with "==Related Titles== Other books in the Palace Brides mini-series * Bound to the Barbarian - 2010 * Chained to the Barbarian - 2012"

==Related Titles==

Other books in the Palace Brides mini-series
* [[Bound to the Barbarian]] - 2010
* [[Chained to the Barbarian]] - 2012

Chained To The Barbarian

2011-10-25T17:21:34Z

Boglin19: Created page with "==Related Titles== Other books in the ''Palace Brides'' mini-series * Bound to the Barbarian - 2010 * Betrothed to the Barbarian - 2012"

==Related Titles==

Other books in the ''Palace Brides'' mini-series
* [[Bound to the Barbarian]] - 2010
* [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] - 2012

Bound To The Barbarian

2011-10-25T17:18:43Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

[[Category:Category Romance]][[Category: 2010 Releases]]

* '''Author:''' [[Carol Townend]]

* '''Publisher:''' [[Mills & Boon]]

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263881127

* '''Setting:''' Eleventh Century Byzantium

* '''Mini Series:''' Palace Brides

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Out of her depth and into his arms...

Sold into slavery, maidservant Katerina promised one day to repay the Princess who rescued her. Now that time has come, and Katerina must convince commanding warrior Ashfirth Saxon that she is her royal mistress.

Spending balmy days and long sultry nights with this man make Katerina's task increasingly impossible. How long will she be able to keep up her deception? And how long before she finds herself willingly bedded by this proud barbarian?

== Related Titles ==

Other books in the ''Palace Brides'' mini-series
* [[Chained to the Barbarian]] - 2012
* [[Betrothed to the Barbarian]] - 2012

== Excerpt ==

to follow shortly

Bound To The Barbarian

2011-10-25T17:16:27Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

[[Category:Category Romance]][[Category: 2010 Releases]]

* '''Author:''' [[Carol Townend]]

* '''Publisher:''' [[Mills & Boon]]

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263881127

* '''Setting:''' Eleventh Century Byzantium

* '''Mini Series:''' Palace Brides

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Out of her depth and into his arms...

Sold into slavery, maidservant Katerina promised one day to repay the Princess who rescued her. Now that time has come, and Katerina must convince commanding warrior Ashfirth Saxon that she is her royal mistress.

Spending balmy days and long sultry nights with this man make Katerina's task increasingly impossible. How long will she be able to keep up her deception? And how long before she finds herself willingly bedded by this proud barbarian?

== Related Titles ==

Chained to the Barbarian
Betrothed to the Barbarian

== Excerpt ==

to follow shortly

Carol Townend

2011-10-25T17:15:27Z

Boglin19: /* Books */ new books added

Bound To The Barbarian

2010-11-02T12:07:47Z

Boglin19: /* Book Description */

[[Category:Category Romance]][[Category: 2010 Releases]]

* '''Author:''' [[Carol Townend]]

* '''Publisher:''' [[Mills & Boon]]

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263881127

* '''Setting:''' Eleventh Century Byzantium

* '''Mini Series:''' Palace Brides

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Out of her depth and into his arms...

Sold into slavery, maidservant Katerina promised one day to repay the Princess who rescued her. Now that time has come, and Katerina must convince commanding warrior Ashfirth Saxon that she is her royal mistress.

Spending balmy days and long sultry nights with this man make Katerina's task increasingly impossible. How long will she be able to keep up her deception? And how long before she finds herself willingly bedded by this proud barbarian?

== Related Titles ==

to follow shortly

== Excerpt ==

to follow shortly

Her Banished Lord

2010-10-02T13:18:23Z

Boglin19:

[[Category:Category Romance]][[Category: 2010 Releases]]

* '''Author:''' [[Carol Townend]]

* '''Publisher:''' [[Harlequin Mills & Boon]]

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263875904

* '''Setting:''' Wessex, England and Normandy, France 1071

* '''Mini Series:''' Wessex Weddings

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Claimed by the Norman Count...
Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt, has been accused of sedition, stripped of his title and banished from all of King William's land. Proud and determined, Hugh vows to clear his name!
Childhood friend Lady Aude de Crevecoeur offers her help - but how far will she go? Should she risk her reputation and her life, or save her reputation and become Hugh's wife? Turbulent times call for passionate measures...

== Related Titles ==

The Novice Bride - 2007

An Honourable Rogue - 2008

His Captive Lady - 2008

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord - 2009

== Excerpt ==

'Hugh, what are you doing?' She thumped her fist on his chest, scandalised. Hugh liked baiting her, but this was ridiculous.

A large hand reached for her, it whispered across her cheek. Her hood was pushed back. They were kneeling facing each other. On her bed. Because of her lack of height Hugh had to stoop his head, and it brought his lips very close to hers.

Despite the poor light, everything snapped into sharp focus. Hugh's eyes were very dark, his expression arrested.

'Hugh?'

She could hear their breathing; she could hear the mutter of voices in the hall and the soft hiss of rain in the mud outside. Time seemed to slow.

His hand slid round the back of her neck and carefully, eyes never leaving hers, he brought her closer.

'Hugh, you really should not have climbed in here.' Aude's thoughts raced. She was an umnarried lady and her reputation here in England was unsullied. It simply was not done for a lady to have a man in her bed - even though he was her brother's friend and it was perfectly innocent.
Hugh smiled.

Bound To The Barbarian

2010-10-02T13:15:56Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

Bound To The Barbarian

2010-10-02T13:15:05Z

Boglin19: beginning new book listing

Carol Townend

2010-10-02T13:07:13Z

Boglin19:

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:50:23Z

Boglin19: /* Excerpt */

* '''Author:''' Carol Townend

* '''Publisher:''' Mills & Boon

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263875904

* '''Setting:''' Wessex, England and Normandy, France 1071

* '''Mini Series:''' Wessex Weddings

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Claimed by the Norman Count...
Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt, has been accused of sedition, stripped of his title and banished from all of King William's land. Proud and determined, Hugh vows to clear his name!
Childhood friend Lady Aude de Crevecoeur offers her help - but how far will she go? Should she risk her reputation and her life, or save her reputation and become Hugh's wife? Turbulent times call for passionate measures...

== Related Titles ==

The Novice Bride - 2007

An Honourable Rogue - 2008

His Captive Lady - 2008

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord - 2009

== Excerpt ==

'Hugh, what are you doing?' She thumped her fist on his chest, scandalised. Hugh liked baiting her, but this was ridiculous.

A large hand reached for her, it whispered across her cheek. Her hood was pushed back. They were kneeling facing each other. On her bed. Because of her lack of height Hugh had to stoop his head, and it brought his lips very close to hers.

Despite the poor light, everything snapped into sharp focus. Hugh's eyes were very dark, his expression arrested.

'Hugh?'

She could hear their breathing; she could hear the mutter of voices in the hall and the soft hiss of rain in the mud outside. Time seemed to slow.

His hand slid round the back of her neck and carefully, eyes never leaving hers, he brought her closer.

'Hugh, you really should not have climbed in here.' Aude's thoughts raced. She was an umnarried lady and her reputation here in England was unsullied. It simply was not done for a lady to have a man in her bed - even though he was her brother's friend and it was perfectly innocent.
Hugh smiled.

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:49:14Z

Boglin19: /* Excerpt */

* '''Author:''' Carol Townend

* '''Publisher:''' Mills & Boon

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263875904

* '''Setting:''' Wessex, England and Normandy, France 1071

* '''Mini Series:''' Wessex Weddings

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Claimed by the Norman Count...
Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt, has been accused of sedition, stripped of his title and banished from all of King William's land. Proud and determined, Hugh vows to clear his name!
Childhood friend Lady Aude de Crevecoeur offers her help - but how far will she go? Should she risk her reputation and her life, or save her reputation and become Hugh's wife? Turbulent times call for passionate measures...

== Related Titles ==

The Novice Bride - 2007

An Honourable Rogue - 2008

His Captive Lady - 2008

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord - 2009

== Excerpt ==

'Hugh, what are you doing?' She thumped her fist on his chest, scandalised. Hugh liked baiting her, but this was ridiculous.
A large hand reached for her, it whispered across her cheek. Her hood was pushed back. They were kneeling facing each other. On her bed. Because of her lack of height Hugh had to stoop his head, and it brought his lips very close to hers.
Despite the poor light, everything snapped into sharp focus. Hugh's eyes were very dark, his expression arrested.
'Hugh?'
She could hear their breathing; she could hear the mutter of voices in the hall and the soft hiss of rain in the mud outside. Time seemed to slow.
His hand slid round the back of her neck and carefully, eyes never leaving hers, he brought her closer.
'Hugh, you really should not have climbed in here.' Aude's thoughts raced. She was an umnarried lady and her reputation here in England was unsullied. It simply was not done for a lady to have a man in her bed - even though he was her brother's friend and it was perfectly innocent.
Hugh smiled.

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:43:07Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

* '''Author:''' Carol Townend

* '''Publisher:''' Mills & Boon

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263875904

* '''Setting:''' Wessex, England and Normandy, France 1071

* '''Mini Series:''' Wessex Weddings

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

== Book Description==

Claimed by the Norman Count...
Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt, has been accused of sedition, stripped of his title and banished from all of King William's land. Proud and determined, Hugh vows to clear his name!
Childhood friend Lady Aude de Crevecoeur offers her help - but how far will she go? Should she risk her reputation and her life, or save her reputation and become Hugh's wife? Turbulent times call for passionate measures...

== Related Titles ==

The Novice Bride - 2007

An Honourable Rogue - 2008

His Captive Lady - 2008

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord - 2009

== Excerpt ==

'Hugh, what are you doing?' She thumped her fist on his chest, scandalised. Hugh liked baiting her, but this was ridiculous.
A large hand reached for her, it whispered across her cheek. Her hood was pushed back. They were kneeling facing each other. On her bed. Because of her lack of height Hugh had to stoop his head, and it brought his lips very close to hers.
Despite the poor light, everything snapped into sharp focus. Hugh's eyes were very dark, his expression arrested.
'Hugh?'
She could hear their breathing; she could hear the mutter of voices in the hall and the soft hiss of rain in the mud outside. Time seemed to slow.
His hand slid round the back of her neck and carefully, eyes never leaving hers, he brought her closer.
'Hugh, you really should not have climbed in here.' Aude's thoughts raced. She was an umnarried lady and her reputation here in England was unsullied. It simply was not done for a lady to have a man in her bed - even though he was her brother's friend and it was perfectly innocent.
Hugh smiled.

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:41:20Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:39:50Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:39:18Z

Boglin19: /* Book Description text */

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:38:43Z

Boglin19:

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:35:52Z

Boglin19: /* Her Banished Lord */

Her Banished Lord

2010-04-12T11:35:19Z

Boglin19: beginning page listing

== Her Banished Lord ==

* '''Author:''' Carol Townend

* '''Publisher:''' Mills & Boon

* '''Year:''' 2010

* '''ISBN:''' (UK Paperback) 978-0263875904

* '''Setting:''' Wessex, England and Normandy, France 1071

* '''Mini Series:''' Wessex Weddings

* '''Amazon.com Listing:''' [http://www.amazon.com/s/qid=1271072044/ref=sr_nr_i_0?ie=UTF8&keywords=carol%20townend&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acarol%20townend%2Ci%3Astripbooks]

* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing:'''[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_pop_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=books-uk&field-author=Carol%20Townend]

An Honorable Rogue - Carol Townsend

2009-08-25T17:07:47Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

[[Category:2008 Releases]] [[Category:Historical Romance]][[Category:Medieval]][[Category:Saxon/Norman]]
* '''Author''': [[Carol Townend]]
* '''Publisher''': [[Mills and Boon|Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* '''Year''': 2008
* '''ISBN''': (US) 9780373305384
* '''Setting''': Brittany and England, 1067
* '''Mini-series''': Wessex Weddings
* '''Amazon.com Listing''': [[http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=9&y=17]]
* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing''': [[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_ss_w_h_/203-6684579-9763936?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=12&y=15]]

==Book Description==

Charmed and Seduced!

Benedict Silvester is a rogue and a flirt! His skill as a musician means he is always traveling...and he charms women wherever he goes. Yet he is on a special mission: to accompany Rozenn Kerber to England.

Rose is frustrated with Ben's frivolous behaviour and annoyed that his wicked smile continually occupies her thoughts, for he can never offer the stability she craves. But on their travels, Rose begins to suspect that he may have a serious side, that Ben is more than he appears...

==Related Titles==

* [[The Novice Bride]] - 2007
* [[His Captive Lady]] - 2008
* [[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord]] - 2009
* [[Her Banished Lord]] - 2010

==Reviews==

* [http://cataromance.com/?p=485 CataRomance]

* [http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Anhonorablerogue.html Coffee Time Romance]

* [http://www.historicalromancewriters.com:80/review.cfm?bookID=33340 Historical Romance Writers]

* [http://www.merrimonbookreviews.com/rev_an_honorable_rogue.html Merrimon Books]

* [http://pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/search/label/An%20Honorable%20Rogue Pink Heart Society]

* [http://redrosesforauthors.blogspot.com/2007/12/honourable-rogue.html Red Roses for Authors]

* [http://romancereaderatheart.com/pubsandpromos/2008/feb08/HR_CT.html Romance Reader at Heart]

==Excerpt from An Honorable Rogue==

Quimperlé, Brittany

Even though it was Witches' Night, the first time the door latch rattled Rozenn was not alarmed. The sun was yet to set, and she was expecting her young friend, Mikaela.

In any case, Hauteville, the quarter of Quimperlé in which Rozenn lived, was scarcely the town slum. At the top of Quimperlé, built on the edge of a rocky outcrop overlooking the main town and castle, Hauteville remained a reasonably safe place in which to live—even the lawlessness that followed the recent killing of Duke Conan had not reached Hauteville. However, this was 1067 and the times were uncertain, so just in case it wasn't Mikaela, Rozenn shoved the silver coins she had been counting back into their pouch and draped some sewing over them. Her little hoard—except that now it was not so little—was growing.

Perhaps today was the day to tell Mikaela she planned to leave Brittany, possibly for ever….

As she expected, it was Mikaela outside; she was busily fastening a garland to the door in the fading evening light. Overhead, screeching swifts traced arcs in the sky; house martins darted in and out of their nests under the eaves.

'You've come straight from the tavern,' Rozenn observed.

'Mmm.'Mikaela's fingers were busy with the garland, tweaking, adjusting. 'How did you work that out?'

'No veil.'

Mikaela and her father ran the local tavern, the White Bird, and since a veil was not practical for cooking and cleaning, Mikaela often dispensed with it and forgot to put it back on when she went out about town.

Rozenn glanced at the garland, a Midsummer's Eve garland. Yellow St John's wort gleamed against glossy bay leaves; corn marigolds winked out from between trailing strands of ivy; yarrow and elder flowers nodded in the warm breeze that was drifting up the narrow street from the river and port below….

'Pretty.' Rozenn smiled. Mikaela was using the same rusty nail she had hung her garland on the previous year, and the year before that. Mikaela was a creature of habit. And very superstitious.

Mikaela shoved her plait over her shoulder and threw her a look. 'Pretty's not the point, Rose. This is meant to protect you.'

'Against witches.' Rozenn managed not to laugh.

'Of course. Don't roll those brown eyes at me. This—' Mikaela flicked at the St John's Wort, dusting her fingertips with the heavy pollen '—will see you safe till the feast of St John the Baptist on the morrow and this—'she indicated a sprig of bay '—wards off witches and evil spirits—'

'Oh, Mikaela…' Rozenn shook her head with a smile '…you're wasting your time. I don't believe in the old tales.'

Mikaela gave the garland on Rozenn's door a final tweak and stepped back to admire her handiwork. 'Maybe that's your problem,' she murmured, wiping pollen on to her skirts.

'I beg your pardon?'

Mikaela shrugged. 'Too serious, that's your trouble. You could come down to Saint Columban's tonight, find out who your true love is.'

Rozenn's lips tightened. 'Midsummer madness. No.'

'Please, Rozenn. Nicole and Anna are coming. It would do you good to join in. See it as a bit of fun. Your time of mourning is over, there's no need to feel guilty.'

'I don't feel guilty,' Rozenn said. 'I simply think it is folly, a waste of time and sleep. Walking seven times round a church at midnight, for heaven's sake. As if that will tell you your true love. It's utter lunacy.'

'You don't have to believe in it, it's fun.' Mikaela took her hand and squeezed it gently. 'Per wouldn't mind. He'd want you to be happy, to find someone else.And if the spell does work—' she grinned '—you'll learn who your true love is.'

'But I already know that,' Rozenn said, before she could stop herself.

Mikaela's jaw dropped. 'What?'

Rozenn could have bitten out her tongue; she had planned to be subtle when she told Mikaela her plans, not blurt them out like a fool. Abruptly turning her shoulder, she fingered the gold cross she wore on a chain round her neck and gazed down the cobbled street as it ran down to the quays and the castle in Quimperlé proper. Overhead, the house martins threaded back and forth across a pink-streaked sky.

'Nothing.'Rose wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and sighed. Young Anton was toiling up the hill, pulling a hand cart laden with bales of cloth, destined doubtless for Mark Quémeneur, the town's main tailor now her husband was dead. 'That boy will have to hurry if he wants to get to Mark's workshop before he locks up for the evening.'

'Rozenn Kerber, don't you dare change the subject!'

Rozenn sighed. 'It was nothing, Mikaela, I spoke out of turn. It was so hot in Countess Muriel's solar today, my brain must have addled.'

As Anton and the cart rumbled by, Mikaela tugged at her hand, trying to make her meet her eyes. 'No escape, Rose. You said something extremely interesting. You said you already know who your true love is, and it didn't sound to me as though you were referring to Per.' Mikaela's voice was light and teasing, but she was frowning. 'I know you were fond of him, but you were hardly starry-eyed when you married. You didn't mean Per, did you? Is it someone I know?'

'Leave it, Mikaela, I spoke without thought.'

'Tell me, Rose,' Mikaela said, softly wheedling. 'Tell me who you love.'

'No.' Rozenn tossed her head and laughed at her friend's persistence. 'In truth, I was going to tell you some time soon, but since this has you in such a fever, you have to guess. I'll share my supper with you if you guess his name.'

'Not fair, since you were going to tell me anyway.'

'It's more fun teasing you! And did my ears deceive me, or didn't you just say I needed to have more fun?'

Mikaela narrowed her eyes. 'That, Rose, is a low blow.'

'Go on, guess! I went to the castle bakehouse and Stefan gave me a chicken pie that would feed a giant. There's far too much just for me.'She moved to the threshold, and pulled her garlanded door fully open. 'Come in, please. Your father will know where you are.'

The house that Rozenn had shared with her husband was, like most of the merchants' houses in Hauteville, a two-roomed dwelling, wattle and daub on a wood frame. The room at the front, facing the street, had wide shutters that Per used to fling open to display the shop and its wares. The shutters were pulled to now, and the shop was stuffy and full of deepening shadows. A further door led through to the room behind the shop, the living room where Rozenn and Per had cooked and eaten and slept. Light glowed there and the girls moved towards it, long skirts rustling. The shutter on the far wall was open, and the back of a neighbour's house was dark against a purpling sky.

As they passed through the shop, Mikaela's gaze fell on the shelves, half of which were empty. Her frown deepened. 'Your stock, Rozenn? Where's all the cloth?'

'Sold most of it.'

'To Mark Quémeneur?'

'Yes.'

'Will it pay Per's debts?'Mikaela asked, knowing how upset her friend had been to discover that her husband owed several of the townsfolk money.

'I pray so.'

Mikaela indicated the remaining stock. 'And what happens to this lot?'

Rozenn smiled. 'I plan to sell it on market day. Mark offered me a reasonable price, but you know what a huckster he is. These fabrics should sell quite easily, and I think I can make more money myself.'

'You'll still take in sewing, though?'

Rozenn murmured something noncommittal and turned away, not quite ready to reveal her plans to leave the Duchy. 'Mark was pleased to have the damasks and the Byzantine silks. Oh, and before I forget, I saved you a length of that blue velvet you were so taken with.'

'Did you?' Mikaela's eyes lit up. 'My thanks but, Rose, I do have a little money. I can pay you.'

'Don't be silly. Per may have left debts, but I am not so encumbered that I can't give you a gift.'

'You are generous. But what will you do without your shop? You will keep on with your sewing? Rose, you must. You're so clever with a needle, you'll never want for work.'

Leading the way into the living room, Rose smiled and bent to add a log on to the fire in the central hearth. Taking a taper, she lit a couple of candles and waved Mikaela to a stool. 'Aye, there's always needlework.' She picked up the sewing and her heavy money pouch and dropped them on the bed by the wall. It was such a relief to know that soon she would be able to pay off Per's debts.

At the table, Mikaela leaned her chin on one hand and airily waved the other while Rozenn hunted out wooden cups and plates. 'Enough of work,' Mikaela said. 'Let's get to the main business of the evening. I have to guess who Rozenn loves? Who can it be?' She tapped her lips with her forefinger. 'You say I know him?'

'Ye…es, but you won't have seen him for a while.'

'Hmm.' Abruptly Mikaela straightened. 'Oh, this is like stealing sweetmeats from a baby! I know, I know exactly who it is!'

Rozenn took a wine-skin down from its hook, drew the stopper and reached for Mikaela's cup. 'You do?'

'Yes, yes, of course I do! It's Ben, Benedict Silvester!' The wine-skin jerked in Rozenn's hand. Rozenn stared blankly at a dark pool of wine that had somehow splashed on to the table. 'B-Ben?'

'Yes! The lute-player.'

Rozenn snorted and shook her head. 'I wouldn't love Benedict Silvester if he were the last man on earth.'

Mikaela raised a brow. 'You wouldn't? I always thought you adored each other. You played together as children whenever he was around—inseparable, you were.'

'Children are extremely uncritical.'

'But you do like him, Rose, I know you do!'

'Yes, yes, of course I like him,' Rozenn said, a touch impatiently. 'How could I not? He's kind and witty and amusing.'

Mikaela's expression grew dreamy. 'Handsome, Rozenn. Don't forget that. Those eyes—dark as sin—'

'He's a rootless charmer—'

'Those long eyelashes…hair like ebony. And he plays the lute like an angel.'

'That last is true.'

Mikaela's bosom heaved. 'And as for his body…' Rozenn scowled. 'What would you know about Ben's body?'

Mikaela's lips twitched. 'I thought that would sting. I know I'm right, it is Ben! Rozenn loves Ben Silvester…'

'I do not!' Rozenn thumped Mikaela's cup down on the table and turned to the hearth where Stefan's pie was warming in a dish. Honesty compelled her to add, 'At least, not in the way you mean. I love him as a brother, in the same way that I love Adam.'

Mikaela tipped her head to one side. 'I thought at one time you would marry Ben, you and he seemed so well suited, but you married Per and—'

'Ben and I? Well suited? You link me with a feckless lute-player who has seduced half the women in Brittany! You flatter me…'

Mikaela did not respond. Her finger tapped on her mouth.

'Besides,' Rozenn said, frowning, 'I haven't seen Ben in two years. Not since that quarrel that flared up between him and Adam.'

'Yes, that was odd. Until then they had been very close. I wonder what it was about?'

'I have no idea, Adam would never say.'

'So there has to be someone else who hasn't been in Quimperlé for some time,' Mikaela said thoughtfully. 'Someone else whom you love?'

'Yes. And it really is not Benedict Silvester. Think again.'

Mikaela sipped at her wine and eyed Rozenn over the rim of her cup. 'This is good. Did you buy it from Father?'

'Countess Muriel gave it to me. Come on, Mikaela, guess again.'

Setting her cup down, Mikaela shook her head. 'Lord knows, if it's not Ben. Mark?'

'Mark Quémeneur? No, he's more of a business associate.'

'One of Adam's cronies then? Didn't you have word from him a week back?'

'Yes and yes. Your aim is improving!'

'So, this paragon is a knight? Aye, you would have it in mind to marry a knight…'

Setting the pie on the table, Rozenn pulled up a stool opposite Mikaela.

'Not that knight who gave you that gold cross, the one with a lute like Ben's? Not Sir Richard of Asculf?'

With a flourish, Rozenn cut a large slice from Stefan's pie. 'The very same, well done! You, dear friend, have won yourself some of the best chicken pie in Quimperlé.'

The Novice Bride

2009-08-25T17:06:20Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

[{{DEFAULTSORT:Novice Bride, The}}[Category:2007 Releases]][[Category:Historical Romance]][[Category:Medieval]][[Category:England]][[Category:Marriage of Convenience]]
* '''Author''': [[Carol Townend]]
* '''Publisher''': [[Harlequin]] [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* '''Year''': 2007
* '''UK ISBN''': 978 0263 86249 2
* '''Setting''': Norman England, 1066
* '''Mini-series''': Wessex Weddings
* '''Amazon.com Listing''': [http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=9&y=17]
* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing''': [http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_ss_w_h_/203-6684579-9763936?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=12&y=15]

==Book Description==

Innocent bride, conquering husband!

As she is a novice, Lady Cecily of Fulford's knowledge of men is non-existent. But when tragic news bids her home immediately, her only means of escape from the convent is to brazenly offer herself to the enemy...as a bride!

With her fate now in the hands of her husband, Sir Adam Wymark, she battles to protect her family. Suspicion and betrayal are rife, yet their convenient marriage offers Cecily much more than comfort in her knight's arms...

==Related Titles==

Other books in the Wessex Weddings Mini-series:
* [[An Honorable Rogue]] - 2008
* [[His Captive Lady]] - 2008
* [[Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord - 2009]]
* [[Her Banished Lord - 2010]]

==Reviews==
* [http://cataromance.com/index.php?p=211 CataRomance]
* [http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Thenovicebride.html Coffee Time Romance]
* [http://merrimonbookreviews.com/rev_carol_townend.html Merrimon Books]
* [http://redrosesforauthors.blogspot.com/2007/07/novice-bride.html Red Roses for Authors]
* [http://www.romancejunkiesreviews.com/artman/publish/historical/The_Novice_Bride.shtml Romance Junkies]
* [http://romancereaderatheart.com/newsearch/proxy.pl?terms=The%20Novice%20Bride&url=http%3A%2F%2Fromancereaderatheart.com%2Fpubsandpromos%2F2007%2Faug07%2FNB_CT.html Romance Reader at Heart]
* [http://pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/search?q=carol+townend The Pink Heart Society]

==Excerpt from The Novice Bride==

Novice Cecily was on her knees in St Anne's chapel when the shouting began outside. According to the candle clock it was almost noon, and Cecily—who in her former life had been called Lady Cecily Fulford—was in retreat. She had sworn not to speak a word to anyone till after the nuns had broken their fasts the next morning. A small figure in a threadbare grey habit and veil, alone at her prie-dieu, Cecily had about eighteen hours of silence to go, and was determined that this time her retreat would not be broken.

Lamps glowed softly in wall sconces, and above the altar a little November daylight was filtering through the narrow unshuttered window. Ignoring the chill seeping up from the stone flags, Cecily bent her veiled head over her prayer beads. "Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is—"

A thud on the chapel door had her swinging round. Another harder one had the thick oak door bouncing on its hinges.

"Cecily! Cecily! Are you in there? You must let me speak to you! It's—"

The woman's voice was cut off abruptly, but Cecily's prayers were quite forgotten. For though the voice did not belong to any of the nuns, it seemed vaguely familiar. She strained to hear more.

Two voices, arguing, and none too quietly. One belonged to Sister Judith, the convent portress. The other voice, the outsider's, went up a notch in pitch, touched on hysteria…

Part curious, part anxious, Cecily scrambled to her feet. Not more bad news, surely? Hadn't the loss of both her father and brother at Hastings been enough…?

She was halfway up the aisle when the door burst open. Lamps flickered, and her blood sister, the Lady Emma Fulford, threw off the restraining arms of the portress and hurtled into the chapel.

One year Cecily's senior, seventeen-year-old Emma was a vision in flowing pink robes and a burgundy velvet cloak. Dropping a riding crop and a pair of cream kid gloves onto the flagstones, she flung herself at Cecily.

"Cecily! Oh, Cecily, you must speak to me. You must!" Finding herself enveloped in a fierce embrace that bordered on the desperate, Cecily fought free of silks and velvets and the scent of roses so that she could study her sister's face. One look had her abandoning her vow of silence.

"Of course I'll speak to you."

Emma gave an unladylike sniff. "She—" a jerk of her head at Sister Judith set her long silken veil aquiver "—said you were in retreat, not to be disturbed. That you may at last be going to take your vows."

"That is so." Emma had been crying, and not just in the past few minutes either, for her fine complexion was blotched and puffy and her eyes were rimmed with shadows. In the four years since Cecily had been brought to the convent she and her elder sister had become strangers, but her sister's delicate beauty had lived on in her mind. This distraught, haggard Emma made her blood run cold.

Sister Judith shut the chapel door with a thump and stood just inside the threshold. Folding her arms, she shook her head at Cecily, the novice who once again had failed to keep her retreat.

Cecily took Emma's hand. Her fingers were like ice. "Something else has happened, hasn't it? Something dreadful."

Emma's eyes filled and she gave a shuddering sob. "Oh, Cecily, it's Maman…"

"Maman? What? What's happened to Maman?" But Cecily had no need to wait for an answer, for she could read it in Emma's expression.

Their mother was dead.

Knees buckling, Cecily gripped Emma's arms and the sisters clung to each other.

"Not Maman," Cecily choked. "Emma, please, not Maman too…" Emma nodded, tears flooding openly down her cheeks. "Wh…when?"

"Three days since."

"How? Was it…was it the babe?" It had to be that. Their mother, Philippa of Fulford, had been thirty-seven—not young—and she had been seven months pregnant at the time of the battle at Hastings. Of Norman extraction herself, she had found the great battle especially hard to cope with. Cecily knew her mother would have taken great pains to hide her emotions, but the deaths of her Anglo Saxon husband and her firstborn son would have been too much to bear.

Many women died in childbed, and at her mother's age, and in her state of grief…

Emma dashed away her tears and nodded. "Aye. Her time came early, her labour was long and hard, and afterwards… Oh, Cecily, there was so much blood. We could do nothing to stem the flow. Would that you had been there. Your time at Sister Mathilda's elbow has taught you so much about healing, whereas I…" Her voice trailed off.

Cecily shook her head. It was true that she had greedily taken in all that Sister Mathilda had chosen to teach her, but she also knew that not everyone could be saved. "Emma, listen. Maman's death was not your fault. Once bleeding starts inside it's nigh impossible to stop…and besides, it's possible she simply lost the will to live after father and Cenwulf were killed."

Emma sniffed. "Aye. We were going to send for you. Wilf was ready to mount up. But by the time we realised the dangers it…it was too late." Emma gripped Cecily's hands.

"It was not your fault." after the messenger came from Hastings. She could not eat or sleep. She wandered round the Hall like a ghost. It was as though, with Father dead, a light went out within her. Father was not an easy man, and Maman was not one to wear her affections openly—"

"'Displays of sentiment are vulgar, and not suited to a lady,'" Cecily murmured, repeating a well-worn phrase of her mother's.

"Quite so. But she loved him. If any doubted that—"Emma gave Cecily a penetrating look, knowing that Cecily and her father, Thane Edgar, had crossed swords on more matters than the delaying of her profession. "If any doubted that, this last month would have set them right. And Cenwulf." Emma's gaze brimmed with sympathy. "I realise you did adore him, too."

"Maman's heart was broken."

Emma gulped. "Aye. And twisted." "Because her own countrymen were the invaders?"

Emma squeezed Cecily's hand. "I knew you'd understand." "Lady Emma…"Sister Judith's voice cut in, reminding the girls of the portress's presence by the chapel door.

It was Sister Judith's duty to give or deny permission for outsiders to enter the convent. Since the order was not an enclosed one, permission was granted more often than not, but never when a nun or novice was on retreat. Hands folded at her girdle, silver cross winking at her breast, the nun regarded Emma sternly, but not unkindly. She had been moved, Cecily saw, by what she had heard.

"Lady Emma, since you have seen fit to break your sister's retreat by this conference, may I suggest that you continue in the portress's lodge? The Angelus bell is about to strike, and the rest of the community will be needing the chapel." "Of course, Sister Judith. Our apologies," Cecily said. Bending to retrieve Emma's riding crop and gloves, Cecily took her sister's hand and led her out of the chapel.

A chill winter wind was tossing straw about the yard. Woodsmoke gusted out of the cookhouse, and their breath made white vapour which was no sooner formed than it was snatched away.

Emma drew the burgundy velvet cloak more tightly about her shoulders.

Cecily, who had not touched a cloak of such quality since entering the convent, and in any case was not wearing even a thin one since she was within the confines of the convent, shivered, and ushered her sister swiftly across the yard towards the south gate.

The portress's lodge, a thatched wooden hut, sagged against the palisade. Abutting the lodge at its eastern end was the convent's guest house, a slightly larger, marginally more inviting building; Cecily led her sister inside.

Even though the door was thrown wide the room was full of shadows, for the wooden walls were planked tight, with only a shuttered slit or two to let in the light. Since no guests had been looked for, there was no fire in the central hearth, only a pile of dead ashes. November marked the beginning of the dark months, but Cecily knew better than to incur Mother Aethelflaeda's wrath by lighting a precious candle. If she added the sin of wasting a candle in daylight to the sin of her broken retreat, she'd be doing penance till Christmas ten years hence.

Dropping Emma's riding crop and gloves on the trestle along with her rosary, Cecily wrenched the shutters open. The cold and ensuing draughts would have to be borne. Emma paced up and down. Her pink gown, Cecily now had time to notice, was liberally spattered with mud about the hem, her silken veil was awry, and the chaplet that secured it was crooked.

"You rode fast to bring me this sad news," Cecily said slowly, as her sister strode back and forth. Now that the first shock was passing, her mind was beginning to work, and she had questions. "And yet…if Maman died three days since, you must have delayed your ride to me. There is more, isn't there?"

Emma stopped her pacing. "Yes. The babe lives. A boy." Cecily gaped. "A boy? And he lives? Oh, it's a miracle—new life after so much death!" Her face fell. "But so early? Emma, he cannot survive."

"So I thought. He is small. I took the liberty of having him christened Philip, in case…in case—"

Emma broke off with a choking sound, but she had no need to add more. Having lived in the convent for four years, Cecily knew the Church's view as well as any. If the babe did die, better that he died christened into the faith. For if he died outside it, he would be for eternity a lost soul.

"Philip," Cecily murmured. "Maman would have liked that." "Aye. And it's not a Saxon name, so if he survives…I thought his chances better if he bore a Norman name."

"It is a good thought to stress Maman's lineage rather than Father's," Cecily replied. The son of a Saxon thane could not thrive if in truth England was to become Norman, but the son of a Norman lady…

Emma drew close, touched Cecily's arm, and again Cecily became conscious of the incongruous fragrance of roses in November, of the softness of her sister's gown, of the whiteness of her hands, of her unbroken lady's nails. All the mud in England couldn't obscure either the quality of Emma's clothing or her high status.

She brushed awkwardly at her own coarse skirts in a vain attempt to shake out some dust and creases, and hide the hole at the knee where she'd torn the fabric grubbing up fennel roots in the herb garden. There were so many holes in the cloth it was nigh impossible to darn. "I would have come at once to tell you, Cecily, if I had not had my hands full caring for our new brother."

"You were right to put Philip first. Do you think he may thrive?"

"I pray so. I left him with Gudrun. She was brought to bed a few months since herself, with a girl, and she is acting at his wet nurse." The restless pacing resumed. "He would not feed at first, but Gudrun persevered, and now…and now…" A faint smile lit Emma's eyes. "I think he may thrive, after all."

"That at least is good news."

"Aye." Emma turned, picked up her riding crop from the trestle and tapped it against her side. She stood with her back to Cecily, facing the door, and stared at the cookhouse smoke swirling in the yard. "Cecily…I…I confess I didn't really come to tell you about Philip…"

"No? What, then?" Cecily made as if to move towards Emma, but a sharp hand movement from her sister stilled her. "Emma?"

"I…I've come to bid you farewell."

Thinking she had not heard properly, Cecily frowned. "What?"

"I'm going north." Emma began to speak quickly, her back unyielding. "More messengers came, after Maman…after Philip was born. Messengers from Duke William."

"Normans? At Fulford Hall?"

A jerky nod. "They'll be there by now."

Cecily touched Emma's arm to make her turn, but Emma resisted Cecily's urging and kept staring at the door. "The carrion crows are come already," Emma said bitterly. "They are efficient, at least, and have not wasted any time seizing our lands. The Duke knows that our father and Cenwulf are dead. In a convoluted message that spoke of King Harold's perfidy as an oath-breaker, I was informed that I, Thane Edgar's daughter, have been made a ward of Duke William, and I am to be given in marriage to one of his knights. And not even a man with proper Norman blood in him, like Maman, but some Breton clod with no breeding at all!"

Emma swung round. Her eyes were wild and hard, and the riding crop smacked against her thigh. "Cecily, I won't. I can't— I won't do it!"

Cecily caught Emma's hands between hers. "Have you met him?" Emma heaved in a shuddering breath. "The Breton? No. Duke William's messenger said he would follow shortly, so I left as soon as I might. Cecily, I can't marry him, so don't talk to me of duty!"

"Who am I to do that when I have delayed committing myself to God for so many years?" Cecily said gently.

Emma's expression softened. "I know. You never asked to be a nun. You follow our father's will in that. I have often thought it unfair that simply because I was born first I should be the one expected to marry while you, the younger girl, were sacrificed to the Church and a life of contemplation even though you had no vocation."

"We both know it was a matter of riches. The Church accepted me with a far smaller dower than any thane or knight ever would. Father could not afford to marry us both well."

Emma brightened. "Think, Cecily. Father is gone; the Church has had your dower, such as it was—what is to prevent your leaving?"

"Emma!"

"You were not made to be a nun. I know Father promised you to the Church, but what promise did you ever make?"

"I swore to try and do his will." "Yes, and that you have done. Four years mewed up in a convent. And look at you." Emma's lip curled as she plucked at the stuff of Cecily's habit. "This grey sackcloth does not become you. I'll warrant it itches like a plague of lice…"

"It does, but mortification of the flesh encourages humility—" "Rot! You don't believe that! And look at the state of your hands. Peasant hands—"

"From gardening." Cecily lifted her chin. "I work in the herb garden. It's useful and I enjoy it."

"Peasant hands, as I said." Emma lowered her voice. "Cecily, be bold. You can leave this place."

Cecily made an exasperated sound. "Where would I go? Back to Fulford, to your Breton knight? Be realistic, Emma, what use has this world for a dowerless novice?" She smiled. "Besides, I'm wise to you. You only suggest this as a sop to your conscience."

Emma stiffened. "What do you mean?" "Like it or not, Emma, your duty is at Fulford. You are, as you say, the eldest daughter, born to wed. The people at Fulford need you. Who else will speak for them? And what of our new brother? I'll warrant Duke William doesn't even know of his existence. How do you think his knight will react when he finds that Fulford has a male heir after all? No, Emma, your duty is plain and you cannot shirk it. You must return to Fulford and wait for the knight Duke William has chosen for you."

Emma was very pale; her mouth became a thin line. "No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

The Novice Bride

2009-08-25T17:05:48Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

[{{DEFAULTSORT:Novice Bride, The}}[Category:2007 Releases]][[Category:Historical Romance]][[Category:Medieval]][[Category:England]][[Category:Marriage of Convenience]]
* '''Author''': [[Carol Townend]]
* '''Publisher''': [[Harlequin]] [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* '''Year''': 2007
* '''UK ISBN''': 978 0263 86249 2
* '''Setting''': Norman England, 1066
* '''Mini-series''': Wessex Weddings
* '''Amazon.com Listing''': [http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=9&y=17]
* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing''': [http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_ss_w_h_/203-6684579-9763936?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=12&y=15]

==Book Description==

Innocent bride, conquering husband!

As she is a novice, Lady Cecily of Fulford's knowledge of men is non-existent. But when tragic news bids her home immediately, her only means of escape from the convent is to brazenly offer herself to the enemy...as a bride!

With her fate now in the hands of her husband, Sir Adam Wymark, she battles to protect her family. Suspicion and betrayal are rife, yet their convenient marriage offers Cecily much more than comfort in her knight's arms...

==Related Titles==

Other books in the Wessex Weddings Mini-series:
* [[An Honorable Rogue]] - 2008
* [[His Captive Lady]] - 2008
* [[Runaway Lady, Conqering Lord - 2009]]
* [[Her Banished Lord - 2010]]

==Reviews==
* [http://cataromance.com/index.php?p=211 CataRomance]
* [http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Thenovicebride.html Coffee Time Romance]
* [http://merrimonbookreviews.com/rev_carol_townend.html Merrimon Books]
* [http://redrosesforauthors.blogspot.com/2007/07/novice-bride.html Red Roses for Authors]
* [http://www.romancejunkiesreviews.com/artman/publish/historical/The_Novice_Bride.shtml Romance Junkies]
* [http://romancereaderatheart.com/newsearch/proxy.pl?terms=The%20Novice%20Bride&url=http%3A%2F%2Fromancereaderatheart.com%2Fpubsandpromos%2F2007%2Faug07%2FNB_CT.html Romance Reader at Heart]
* [http://pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/search?q=carol+townend The Pink Heart Society]

==Excerpt from The Novice Bride==

Novice Cecily was on her knees in St Anne's chapel when the shouting began outside. According to the candle clock it was almost noon, and Cecily—who in her former life had been called Lady Cecily Fulford—was in retreat. She had sworn not to speak a word to anyone till after the nuns had broken their fasts the next morning. A small figure in a threadbare grey habit and veil, alone at her prie-dieu, Cecily had about eighteen hours of silence to go, and was determined that this time her retreat would not be broken.

Lamps glowed softly in wall sconces, and above the altar a little November daylight was filtering through the narrow unshuttered window. Ignoring the chill seeping up from the stone flags, Cecily bent her veiled head over her prayer beads. "Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is—"

A thud on the chapel door had her swinging round. Another harder one had the thick oak door bouncing on its hinges.

"Cecily! Cecily! Are you in there? You must let me speak to you! It's—"

The woman's voice was cut off abruptly, but Cecily's prayers were quite forgotten. For though the voice did not belong to any of the nuns, it seemed vaguely familiar. She strained to hear more.

Two voices, arguing, and none too quietly. One belonged to Sister Judith, the convent portress. The other voice, the outsider's, went up a notch in pitch, touched on hysteria…

Part curious, part anxious, Cecily scrambled to her feet. Not more bad news, surely? Hadn't the loss of both her father and brother at Hastings been enough…?

She was halfway up the aisle when the door burst open. Lamps flickered, and her blood sister, the Lady Emma Fulford, threw off the restraining arms of the portress and hurtled into the chapel.

One year Cecily's senior, seventeen-year-old Emma was a vision in flowing pink robes and a burgundy velvet cloak. Dropping a riding crop and a pair of cream kid gloves onto the flagstones, she flung herself at Cecily.

"Cecily! Oh, Cecily, you must speak to me. You must!" Finding herself enveloped in a fierce embrace that bordered on the desperate, Cecily fought free of silks and velvets and the scent of roses so that she could study her sister's face. One look had her abandoning her vow of silence.

"Of course I'll speak to you."

Emma gave an unladylike sniff. "She—" a jerk of her head at Sister Judith set her long silken veil aquiver "—said you were in retreat, not to be disturbed. That you may at last be going to take your vows."

"That is so." Emma had been crying, and not just in the past few minutes either, for her fine complexion was blotched and puffy and her eyes were rimmed with shadows. In the four years since Cecily had been brought to the convent she and her elder sister had become strangers, but her sister's delicate beauty had lived on in her mind. This distraught, haggard Emma made her blood run cold.

Sister Judith shut the chapel door with a thump and stood just inside the threshold. Folding her arms, she shook her head at Cecily, the novice who once again had failed to keep her retreat.

Cecily took Emma's hand. Her fingers were like ice. "Something else has happened, hasn't it? Something dreadful."

Emma's eyes filled and she gave a shuddering sob. "Oh, Cecily, it's Maman…"

"Maman? What? What's happened to Maman?" But Cecily had no need to wait for an answer, for she could read it in Emma's expression.

Their mother was dead.

Knees buckling, Cecily gripped Emma's arms and the sisters clung to each other.

"Not Maman," Cecily choked. "Emma, please, not Maman too…" Emma nodded, tears flooding openly down her cheeks. "Wh…when?"

"Three days since."

"How? Was it…was it the babe?" It had to be that. Their mother, Philippa of Fulford, had been thirty-seven—not young—and she had been seven months pregnant at the time of the battle at Hastings. Of Norman extraction herself, she had found the great battle especially hard to cope with. Cecily knew her mother would have taken great pains to hide her emotions, but the deaths of her Anglo Saxon husband and her firstborn son would have been too much to bear.

Many women died in childbed, and at her mother's age, and in her state of grief…

Emma dashed away her tears and nodded. "Aye. Her time came early, her labour was long and hard, and afterwards… Oh, Cecily, there was so much blood. We could do nothing to stem the flow. Would that you had been there. Your time at Sister Mathilda's elbow has taught you so much about healing, whereas I…" Her voice trailed off.

Cecily shook her head. It was true that she had greedily taken in all that Sister Mathilda had chosen to teach her, but she also knew that not everyone could be saved. "Emma, listen. Maman's death was not your fault. Once bleeding starts inside it's nigh impossible to stop…and besides, it's possible she simply lost the will to live after father and Cenwulf were killed."

Emma sniffed. "Aye. We were going to send for you. Wilf was ready to mount up. But by the time we realised the dangers it…it was too late." Emma gripped Cecily's hands.

"It was not your fault." after the messenger came from Hastings. She could not eat or sleep. She wandered round the Hall like a ghost. It was as though, with Father dead, a light went out within her. Father was not an easy man, and Maman was not one to wear her affections openly—"

"'Displays of sentiment are vulgar, and not suited to a lady,'" Cecily murmured, repeating a well-worn phrase of her mother's.

"Quite so. But she loved him. If any doubted that—"Emma gave Cecily a penetrating look, knowing that Cecily and her father, Thane Edgar, had crossed swords on more matters than the delaying of her profession. "If any doubted that, this last month would have set them right. And Cenwulf." Emma's gaze brimmed with sympathy. "I realise you did adore him, too."

"Maman's heart was broken."

Emma gulped. "Aye. And twisted." "Because her own countrymen were the invaders?"

Emma squeezed Cecily's hand. "I knew you'd understand." "Lady Emma…"Sister Judith's voice cut in, reminding the girls of the portress's presence by the chapel door.

It was Sister Judith's duty to give or deny permission for outsiders to enter the convent. Since the order was not an enclosed one, permission was granted more often than not, but never when a nun or novice was on retreat. Hands folded at her girdle, silver cross winking at her breast, the nun regarded Emma sternly, but not unkindly. She had been moved, Cecily saw, by what she had heard.

"Lady Emma, since you have seen fit to break your sister's retreat by this conference, may I suggest that you continue in the portress's lodge? The Angelus bell is about to strike, and the rest of the community will be needing the chapel." "Of course, Sister Judith. Our apologies," Cecily said. Bending to retrieve Emma's riding crop and gloves, Cecily took her sister's hand and led her out of the chapel.

A chill winter wind was tossing straw about the yard. Woodsmoke gusted out of the cookhouse, and their breath made white vapour which was no sooner formed than it was snatched away.

Emma drew the burgundy velvet cloak more tightly about her shoulders.

Cecily, who had not touched a cloak of such quality since entering the convent, and in any case was not wearing even a thin one since she was within the confines of the convent, shivered, and ushered her sister swiftly across the yard towards the south gate.

The portress's lodge, a thatched wooden hut, sagged against the palisade. Abutting the lodge at its eastern end was the convent's guest house, a slightly larger, marginally more inviting building; Cecily led her sister inside.

Even though the door was thrown wide the room was full of shadows, for the wooden walls were planked tight, with only a shuttered slit or two to let in the light. Since no guests had been looked for, there was no fire in the central hearth, only a pile of dead ashes. November marked the beginning of the dark months, but Cecily knew better than to incur Mother Aethelflaeda's wrath by lighting a precious candle. If she added the sin of wasting a candle in daylight to the sin of her broken retreat, she'd be doing penance till Christmas ten years hence.

Dropping Emma's riding crop and gloves on the trestle along with her rosary, Cecily wrenched the shutters open. The cold and ensuing draughts would have to be borne. Emma paced up and down. Her pink gown, Cecily now had time to notice, was liberally spattered with mud about the hem, her silken veil was awry, and the chaplet that secured it was crooked.

"You rode fast to bring me this sad news," Cecily said slowly, as her sister strode back and forth. Now that the first shock was passing, her mind was beginning to work, and she had questions. "And yet…if Maman died three days since, you must have delayed your ride to me. There is more, isn't there?"

Emma stopped her pacing. "Yes. The babe lives. A boy." Cecily gaped. "A boy? And he lives? Oh, it's a miracle—new life after so much death!" Her face fell. "But so early? Emma, he cannot survive."

"So I thought. He is small. I took the liberty of having him christened Philip, in case…in case—"

Emma broke off with a choking sound, but she had no need to add more. Having lived in the convent for four years, Cecily knew the Church's view as well as any. If the babe did die, better that he died christened into the faith. For if he died outside it, he would be for eternity a lost soul.

"Philip," Cecily murmured. "Maman would have liked that." "Aye. And it's not a Saxon name, so if he survives…I thought his chances better if he bore a Norman name."

"It is a good thought to stress Maman's lineage rather than Father's," Cecily replied. The son of a Saxon thane could not thrive if in truth England was to become Norman, but the son of a Norman lady…

Emma drew close, touched Cecily's arm, and again Cecily became conscious of the incongruous fragrance of roses in November, of the softness of her sister's gown, of the whiteness of her hands, of her unbroken lady's nails. All the mud in England couldn't obscure either the quality of Emma's clothing or her high status.

She brushed awkwardly at her own coarse skirts in a vain attempt to shake out some dust and creases, and hide the hole at the knee where she'd torn the fabric grubbing up fennel roots in the herb garden. There were so many holes in the cloth it was nigh impossible to darn. "I would have come at once to tell you, Cecily, if I had not had my hands full caring for our new brother."

"You were right to put Philip first. Do you think he may thrive?"

"I pray so. I left him with Gudrun. She was brought to bed a few months since herself, with a girl, and she is acting at his wet nurse." The restless pacing resumed. "He would not feed at first, but Gudrun persevered, and now…and now…" A faint smile lit Emma's eyes. "I think he may thrive, after all."

"That at least is good news."

"Aye." Emma turned, picked up her riding crop from the trestle and tapped it against her side. She stood with her back to Cecily, facing the door, and stared at the cookhouse smoke swirling in the yard. "Cecily…I…I confess I didn't really come to tell you about Philip…"

"No? What, then?" Cecily made as if to move towards Emma, but a sharp hand movement from her sister stilled her. "Emma?"

"I…I've come to bid you farewell."

Thinking she had not heard properly, Cecily frowned. "What?"

"I'm going north." Emma began to speak quickly, her back unyielding. "More messengers came, after Maman…after Philip was born. Messengers from Duke William."

"Normans? At Fulford Hall?"

A jerky nod. "They'll be there by now."

Cecily touched Emma's arm to make her turn, but Emma resisted Cecily's urging and kept staring at the door. "The carrion crows are come already," Emma said bitterly. "They are efficient, at least, and have not wasted any time seizing our lands. The Duke knows that our father and Cenwulf are dead. In a convoluted message that spoke of King Harold's perfidy as an oath-breaker, I was informed that I, Thane Edgar's daughter, have been made a ward of Duke William, and I am to be given in marriage to one of his knights. And not even a man with proper Norman blood in him, like Maman, but some Breton clod with no breeding at all!"

Emma swung round. Her eyes were wild and hard, and the riding crop smacked against her thigh. "Cecily, I won't. I can't— I won't do it!"

Cecily caught Emma's hands between hers. "Have you met him?" Emma heaved in a shuddering breath. "The Breton? No. Duke William's messenger said he would follow shortly, so I left as soon as I might. Cecily, I can't marry him, so don't talk to me of duty!"

"Who am I to do that when I have delayed committing myself to God for so many years?" Cecily said gently.

Emma's expression softened. "I know. You never asked to be a nun. You follow our father's will in that. I have often thought it unfair that simply because I was born first I should be the one expected to marry while you, the younger girl, were sacrificed to the Church and a life of contemplation even though you had no vocation."

"We both know it was a matter of riches. The Church accepted me with a far smaller dower than any thane or knight ever would. Father could not afford to marry us both well."

Emma brightened. "Think, Cecily. Father is gone; the Church has had your dower, such as it was—what is to prevent your leaving?"

"Emma!"

"You were not made to be a nun. I know Father promised you to the Church, but what promise did you ever make?"

"I swore to try and do his will." "Yes, and that you have done. Four years mewed up in a convent. And look at you." Emma's lip curled as she plucked at the stuff of Cecily's habit. "This grey sackcloth does not become you. I'll warrant it itches like a plague of lice…"

"It does, but mortification of the flesh encourages humility—" "Rot! You don't believe that! And look at the state of your hands. Peasant hands—"

"From gardening." Cecily lifted her chin. "I work in the herb garden. It's useful and I enjoy it."

"Peasant hands, as I said." Emma lowered her voice. "Cecily, be bold. You can leave this place."

Cecily made an exasperated sound. "Where would I go? Back to Fulford, to your Breton knight? Be realistic, Emma, what use has this world for a dowerless novice?" She smiled. "Besides, I'm wise to you. You only suggest this as a sop to your conscience."

Emma stiffened. "What do you mean?" "Like it or not, Emma, your duty is at Fulford. You are, as you say, the eldest daughter, born to wed. The people at Fulford need you. Who else will speak for them? And what of our new brother? I'll warrant Duke William doesn't even know of his existence. How do you think his knight will react when he finds that Fulford has a male heir after all? No, Emma, your duty is plain and you cannot shirk it. You must return to Fulford and wait for the knight Duke William has chosen for you."

Emma was very pale; her mouth became a thin line. "No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord

2009-08-25T17:03:52Z

Boglin19:

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord

2009-08-25T17:00:04Z

Boglin19: /* Book Description */

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord

2009-08-25T16:58:19Z

Boglin19:

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord

2009-08-25T16:54:34Z

Boglin19: filling in details

Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord

2009-08-25T16:50:18Z

Boglin19: New page: TAMING HIS RUNAWAY LADY! Raised a lady, Emma of Fulford is a fallen woman with a young son as proof. He is all she has in the world, and now the boy’s brutal father has returned. Despera...

TAMING HIS
RUNAWAY LADY!
Raised a lady, Emma of Fulford is a fallen woman
with a young son as proof. He is all she has in the
world, and now the boy’s brutal father has returned.
Desperate and afraid, she needs to escape, and fast,
so she approaches Sir Richard of Asculf. She begs
this honorable Norman knight for help—and offers
the only thing she has left...herself.
Honorable he may be, but Sir Richard is only
human and Lady Emma tempts his resolve. Can this
conquering knight tame his runaway lady and stop
her running for good?
Wessex Weddings
Normans and Saxons, conflict and desire

His Captive Lady

2009-08-25T16:47:18Z

Boglin19: /* Related Titles */

Carol Townend

2009-08-25T16:45:25Z

Boglin19: /* Books */

Carol Townend

2009-02-12T22:33:28Z

Boglin19: /* Books */

Carol Townend

2009-02-07T16:04:08Z

Boglin19:

Carol Townend

2009-02-07T16:02:52Z

Boglin19:

Carol Townend

2008-07-24T13:03:07Z

Boglin19: /* Books */

An Honorable Rogue - Carol Townsend

2008-07-24T08:42:52Z

Boglin19:

[[Category:2008 Releases]] [[Category:Historical Romance]][[Category:Medieval]][[Category:Saxon/Norman]]
* '''Author''': [[Carol Townend]]
* '''Publisher''': [[Mills and Boon|Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* '''Year''': 2008
* '''ISBN''': (US) 9780373305384
* '''Setting''': Brittany and England, 1067
* '''Mini-series''': Wessex Weddings
* '''Amazon.com Listing''': [[http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=9&y=17]]
* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing''': [[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_ss_w_h_/203-6684579-9763936?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=12&y=15]]

==Book Description==

Charmed and Seduced!

Benedict Silvester is a rogue and a flirt! His skill as a musician means he is always traveling...and he charms women wherever he goes. Yet he is on a special mission: to accompany Rozenn Kerber to England.

Rose is frustrated with Ben's frivolous behaviour and annoyed that his wicked smile continually occupies her thoughts, for he can never offer the stability she craves. But on their travels, Rose begins to suspect that he may have a serious side, that Ben is more than he appears...

==Related Titles==

* [[The Novice Bride]] - 2007
* [[His Captive Lady]] - 2008

==Reviews==

* [http://cataromance.com/?p=485 CataRomance]

* [http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Anhonorablerogue.html Coffee Time Romance]

* [http://www.historicalromancewriters.com:80/review.cfm?bookID=33340 Historical Romance Writers]

* [http://www.merrimonbookreviews.com/rev_an_honorable_rogue.html Merrimon Books]

* [http://pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/search/label/An%20Honorable%20Rogue Pink Heart Society]

* [http://redrosesforauthors.blogspot.com/2007/12/honourable-rogue.html Red Roses for Authors]

* [http://romancereaderatheart.com/pubsandpromos/2008/feb08/HR_CT.html Romance Reader at Heart]

==Excerpt from An Honorable Rogue==

Quimperlé, Brittany

Even though it was Witches' Night, the first time the door latch rattled Rozenn was not alarmed. The sun was yet to set, and she was expecting her young friend, Mikaela.

In any case, Hauteville, the quarter of Quimperlé in which Rozenn lived, was scarcely the town slum. At the top of Quimperlé, built on the edge of a rocky outcrop overlooking the main town and castle, Hauteville remained a reasonably safe place in which to live—even the lawlessness that followed the recent killing of Duke Conan had not reached Hauteville. However, this was 1067 and the times were uncertain, so just in case it wasn't Mikaela, Rozenn shoved the silver coins she had been counting back into their pouch and draped some sewing over them. Her little hoard—except that now it was not so little—was growing.

Perhaps today was the day to tell Mikaela she planned to leave Brittany, possibly for ever….

As she expected, it was Mikaela outside; she was busily fastening a garland to the door in the fading evening light. Overhead, screeching swifts traced arcs in the sky; house martins darted in and out of their nests under the eaves.

'You've come straight from the tavern,' Rozenn observed.

'Mmm.'Mikaela's fingers were busy with the garland, tweaking, adjusting. 'How did you work that out?'

'No veil.'

Mikaela and her father ran the local tavern, the White Bird, and since a veil was not practical for cooking and cleaning, Mikaela often dispensed with it and forgot to put it back on when she went out about town.

Rozenn glanced at the garland, a Midsummer's Eve garland. Yellow St John's wort gleamed against glossy bay leaves; corn marigolds winked out from between trailing strands of ivy; yarrow and elder flowers nodded in the warm breeze that was drifting up the narrow street from the river and port below….

'Pretty.' Rozenn smiled. Mikaela was using the same rusty nail she had hung her garland on the previous year, and the year before that. Mikaela was a creature of habit. And very superstitious.

Mikaela shoved her plait over her shoulder and threw her a look. 'Pretty's not the point, Rose. This is meant to protect you.'

'Against witches.' Rozenn managed not to laugh.

'Of course. Don't roll those brown eyes at me. This—' Mikaela flicked at the St John's Wort, dusting her fingertips with the heavy pollen '—will see you safe till the feast of St John the Baptist on the morrow and this—'she indicated a sprig of bay '—wards off witches and evil spirits—'

'Oh, Mikaela…' Rozenn shook her head with a smile '…you're wasting your time. I don't believe in the old tales.'

Mikaela gave the garland on Rozenn's door a final tweak and stepped back to admire her handiwork. 'Maybe that's your problem,' she murmured, wiping pollen on to her skirts.

'I beg your pardon?'

Mikaela shrugged. 'Too serious, that's your trouble. You could come down to Saint Columban's tonight, find out who your true love is.'

Rozenn's lips tightened. 'Midsummer madness. No.'

'Please, Rozenn. Nicole and Anna are coming. It would do you good to join in. See it as a bit of fun. Your time of mourning is over, there's no need to feel guilty.'

'I don't feel guilty,' Rozenn said. 'I simply think it is folly, a waste of time and sleep. Walking seven times round a church at midnight, for heaven's sake. As if that will tell you your true love. It's utter lunacy.'

'You don't have to believe in it, it's fun.' Mikaela took her hand and squeezed it gently. 'Per wouldn't mind. He'd want you to be happy, to find someone else.And if the spell does work—' she grinned '—you'll learn who your true love is.'

'But I already know that,' Rozenn said, before she could stop herself.

Mikaela's jaw dropped. 'What?'

Rozenn could have bitten out her tongue; she had planned to be subtle when she told Mikaela her plans, not blurt them out like a fool. Abruptly turning her shoulder, she fingered the gold cross she wore on a chain round her neck and gazed down the cobbled street as it ran down to the quays and the castle in Quimperlé proper. Overhead, the house martins threaded back and forth across a pink-streaked sky.

'Nothing.'Rose wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and sighed. Young Anton was toiling up the hill, pulling a hand cart laden with bales of cloth, destined doubtless for Mark Quémeneur, the town's main tailor now her husband was dead. 'That boy will have to hurry if he wants to get to Mark's workshop before he locks up for the evening.'

'Rozenn Kerber, don't you dare change the subject!'

Rozenn sighed. 'It was nothing, Mikaela, I spoke out of turn. It was so hot in Countess Muriel's solar today, my brain must have addled.'

As Anton and the cart rumbled by, Mikaela tugged at her hand, trying to make her meet her eyes. 'No escape, Rose. You said something extremely interesting. You said you already know who your true love is, and it didn't sound to me as though you were referring to Per.' Mikaela's voice was light and teasing, but she was frowning. 'I know you were fond of him, but you were hardly starry-eyed when you married. You didn't mean Per, did you? Is it someone I know?'

'Leave it, Mikaela, I spoke without thought.'

'Tell me, Rose,' Mikaela said, softly wheedling. 'Tell me who you love.'

'No.' Rozenn tossed her head and laughed at her friend's persistence. 'In truth, I was going to tell you some time soon, but since this has you in such a fever, you have to guess. I'll share my supper with you if you guess his name.'

'Not fair, since you were going to tell me anyway.'

'It's more fun teasing you! And did my ears deceive me, or didn't you just say I needed to have more fun?'

Mikaela narrowed her eyes. 'That, Rose, is a low blow.'

'Go on, guess! I went to the castle bakehouse and Stefan gave me a chicken pie that would feed a giant. There's far too much just for me.'She moved to the threshold, and pulled her garlanded door fully open. 'Come in, please. Your father will know where you are.'

The house that Rozenn had shared with her husband was, like most of the merchants' houses in Hauteville, a two-roomed dwelling, wattle and daub on a wood frame. The room at the front, facing the street, had wide shutters that Per used to fling open to display the shop and its wares. The shutters were pulled to now, and the shop was stuffy and full of deepening shadows. A further door led through to the room behind the shop, the living room where Rozenn and Per had cooked and eaten and slept. Light glowed there and the girls moved towards it, long skirts rustling. The shutter on the far wall was open, and the back of a neighbour's house was dark against a purpling sky.

As they passed through the shop, Mikaela's gaze fell on the shelves, half of which were empty. Her frown deepened. 'Your stock, Rozenn? Where's all the cloth?'

'Sold most of it.'

'To Mark Quémeneur?'

'Yes.'

'Will it pay Per's debts?'Mikaela asked, knowing how upset her friend had been to discover that her husband owed several of the townsfolk money.

'I pray so.'

Mikaela indicated the remaining stock. 'And what happens to this lot?'

Rozenn smiled. 'I plan to sell it on market day. Mark offered me a reasonable price, but you know what a huckster he is. These fabrics should sell quite easily, and I think I can make more money myself.'

'You'll still take in sewing, though?'

Rozenn murmured something noncommittal and turned away, not quite ready to reveal her plans to leave the Duchy. 'Mark was pleased to have the damasks and the Byzantine silks. Oh, and before I forget, I saved you a length of that blue velvet you were so taken with.'

'Did you?' Mikaela's eyes lit up. 'My thanks but, Rose, I do have a little money. I can pay you.'

'Don't be silly. Per may have left debts, but I am not so encumbered that I can't give you a gift.'

'You are generous. But what will you do without your shop? You will keep on with your sewing? Rose, you must. You're so clever with a needle, you'll never want for work.'

Leading the way into the living room, Rose smiled and bent to add a log on to the fire in the central hearth. Taking a taper, she lit a couple of candles and waved Mikaela to a stool. 'Aye, there's always needlework.' She picked up the sewing and her heavy money pouch and dropped them on the bed by the wall. It was such a relief to know that soon she would be able to pay off Per's debts.

At the table, Mikaela leaned her chin on one hand and airily waved the other while Rozenn hunted out wooden cups and plates. 'Enough of work,' Mikaela said. 'Let's get to the main business of the evening. I have to guess who Rozenn loves? Who can it be?' She tapped her lips with her forefinger. 'You say I know him?'

'Ye…es, but you won't have seen him for a while.'

'Hmm.' Abruptly Mikaela straightened. 'Oh, this is like stealing sweetmeats from a baby! I know, I know exactly who it is!'

Rozenn took a wine-skin down from its hook, drew the stopper and reached for Mikaela's cup. 'You do?'

'Yes, yes, of course I do! It's Ben, Benedict Silvester!' The wine-skin jerked in Rozenn's hand. Rozenn stared blankly at a dark pool of wine that had somehow splashed on to the table. 'B-Ben?'

'Yes! The lute-player.'

Rozenn snorted and shook her head. 'I wouldn't love Benedict Silvester if he were the last man on earth.'

Mikaela raised a brow. 'You wouldn't? I always thought you adored each other. You played together as children whenever he was around—inseparable, you were.'

'Children are extremely uncritical.'

'But you do like him, Rose, I know you do!'

'Yes, yes, of course I like him,' Rozenn said, a touch impatiently. 'How could I not? He's kind and witty and amusing.'

Mikaela's expression grew dreamy. 'Handsome, Rozenn. Don't forget that. Those eyes—dark as sin—'

'He's a rootless charmer—'

'Those long eyelashes…hair like ebony. And he plays the lute like an angel.'

'That last is true.'

Mikaela's bosom heaved. 'And as for his body…' Rozenn scowled. 'What would you know about Ben's body?'

Mikaela's lips twitched. 'I thought that would sting. I know I'm right, it is Ben! Rozenn loves Ben Silvester…'

'I do not!' Rozenn thumped Mikaela's cup down on the table and turned to the hearth where Stefan's pie was warming in a dish. Honesty compelled her to add, 'At least, not in the way you mean. I love him as a brother, in the same way that I love Adam.'

Mikaela tipped her head to one side. 'I thought at one time you would marry Ben, you and he seemed so well suited, but you married Per and—'

'Ben and I? Well suited? You link me with a feckless lute-player who has seduced half the women in Brittany! You flatter me…'

Mikaela did not respond. Her finger tapped on her mouth.

'Besides,' Rozenn said, frowning, 'I haven't seen Ben in two years. Not since that quarrel that flared up between him and Adam.'

'Yes, that was odd. Until then they had been very close. I wonder what it was about?'

'I have no idea, Adam would never say.'

'So there has to be someone else who hasn't been in Quimperlé for some time,' Mikaela said thoughtfully. 'Someone else whom you love?'

'Yes. And it really is not Benedict Silvester. Think again.'

Mikaela sipped at her wine and eyed Rozenn over the rim of her cup. 'This is good. Did you buy it from Father?'

'Countess Muriel gave it to me. Come on, Mikaela, guess again.'

Setting her cup down, Mikaela shook her head. 'Lord knows, if it's not Ben. Mark?'

'Mark Quémeneur? No, he's more of a business associate.'

'One of Adam's cronies then? Didn't you have word from him a week back?'

'Yes and yes. Your aim is improving!'

'So, this paragon is a knight? Aye, you would have it in mind to marry a knight…'

Setting the pie on the table, Rozenn pulled up a stool opposite Mikaela.

'Not that knight who gave you that gold cross, the one with a lute like Ben's? Not Sir Richard of Asculf?'

With a flourish, Rozenn cut a large slice from Stefan's pie. 'The very same, well done! You, dear friend, have won yourself some of the best chicken pie in Quimperlé.'

An Honorable Rogue - Carol Townsend

2008-07-24T08:40:52Z

Boglin19:

[[Category:2008 Releases]] [[Category:Historical Romance]][[Category:Medieval]][[Category:Saxon/Norman]]
* '''Author''': [[Carol Townend]]
* '''Publisher''': [[Mills and Boon|Harlequin Mills & Boon]]
* '''Year''': 2008
* '''ISBN''': (US) 9780373305384
* '''Setting''': Brittany and England, 1067
* '''Mini-series''': Wessex Weddings
* '''Amazon.com Listing''': [[http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=9&y=17]]
* '''UK Amazon''' (Paperback): [http://www.amazon.co.uk/Honourable-Rogue-Historical-Romance/dp/0263862798/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1214254779&sr=1-3]

==Book Description==

Charmed and Seduced!

Benedict Silvester is a rogue and a flirt! His skill as a musician means he is always traveling...and he charms women wherever he goes. Yet he is on a special mission: to accompany Rozenn Kerber to England.

Rose is frustrated with Ben's frivolous behaviour and annoyed that his wicked smile continually occupies her thoughts, for he can never offer the stability she craves. But on their travels, Rose begins to suspect that he may have a serious side, that Ben is more than he appears...

==Related Titles==

* [[The Novice Bride]] - 2007
* [[His Captive Lady]] - 2008

==Reviews==

* [http://cataromance.com/?p=485 CataRomance]

* [http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Anhonorablerogue.html Coffee Time Romance]

* [http://www.historicalromancewriters.com:80/review.cfm?bookID=33340 Historical Romance Writers]

* [http://www.merrimonbookreviews.com/rev_an_honorable_rogue.html Merrimon Books]

* [http://pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/search/label/An%20Honorable%20Rogue Pink Heart Society]

* [http://redrosesforauthors.blogspot.com/2007/12/honourable-rogue.html Red Roses for Authors]

* [http://romancereaderatheart.com/pubsandpromos/2008/feb08/HR_CT.html Romance Reader at Heart]

==Excerpt from An Honorable Rogue==

Quimperlé, Brittany

Even though it was Witches' Night, the first time the door latch rattled Rozenn was not alarmed. The sun was yet to set, and she was expecting her young friend, Mikaela.

In any case, Hauteville, the quarter of Quimperlé in which Rozenn lived, was scarcely the town slum. At the top of Quimperlé, built on the edge of a rocky outcrop overlooking the main town and castle, Hauteville remained a reasonably safe place in which to live—even the lawlessness that followed the recent killing of Duke Conan had not reached Hauteville. However, this was 1067 and the times were uncertain, so just in case it wasn't Mikaela, Rozenn shoved the silver coins she had been counting back into their pouch and draped some sewing over them. Her little hoard—except that now it was not so little—was growing.

Perhaps today was the day to tell Mikaela she planned to leave Brittany, possibly for ever….

As she expected, it was Mikaela outside; she was busily fastening a garland to the door in the fading evening light. Overhead, screeching swifts traced arcs in the sky; house martins darted in and out of their nests under the eaves.

'You've come straight from the tavern,' Rozenn observed.

'Mmm.'Mikaela's fingers were busy with the garland, tweaking, adjusting. 'How did you work that out?'

'No veil.'

Mikaela and her father ran the local tavern, the White Bird, and since a veil was not practical for cooking and cleaning, Mikaela often dispensed with it and forgot to put it back on when she went out about town.

Rozenn glanced at the garland, a Midsummer's Eve garland. Yellow St John's wort gleamed against glossy bay leaves; corn marigolds winked out from between trailing strands of ivy; yarrow and elder flowers nodded in the warm breeze that was drifting up the narrow street from the river and port below….

'Pretty.' Rozenn smiled. Mikaela was using the same rusty nail she had hung her garland on the previous year, and the year before that. Mikaela was a creature of habit. And very superstitious.

Mikaela shoved her plait over her shoulder and threw her a look. 'Pretty's not the point, Rose. This is meant to protect you.'

'Against witches.' Rozenn managed not to laugh.

'Of course. Don't roll those brown eyes at me. This—' Mikaela flicked at the St John's Wort, dusting her fingertips with the heavy pollen '—will see you safe till the feast of St John the Baptist on the morrow and this—'she indicated a sprig of bay '—wards off witches and evil spirits—'

'Oh, Mikaela…' Rozenn shook her head with a smile '…you're wasting your time. I don't believe in the old tales.'

Mikaela gave the garland on Rozenn's door a final tweak and stepped back to admire her handiwork. 'Maybe that's your problem,' she murmured, wiping pollen on to her skirts.

'I beg your pardon?'

Mikaela shrugged. 'Too serious, that's your trouble. You could come down to Saint Columban's tonight, find out who your true love is.'

Rozenn's lips tightened. 'Midsummer madness. No.'

'Please, Rozenn. Nicole and Anna are coming. It would do you good to join in. See it as a bit of fun. Your time of mourning is over, there's no need to feel guilty.'

'I don't feel guilty,' Rozenn said. 'I simply think it is folly, a waste of time and sleep. Walking seven times round a church at midnight, for heaven's sake. As if that will tell you your true love. It's utter lunacy.'

'You don't have to believe in it, it's fun.' Mikaela took her hand and squeezed it gently. 'Per wouldn't mind. He'd want you to be happy, to find someone else.And if the spell does work—' she grinned '—you'll learn who your true love is.'

'But I already know that,' Rozenn said, before she could stop herself.

Mikaela's jaw dropped. 'What?'

Rozenn could have bitten out her tongue; she had planned to be subtle when she told Mikaela her plans, not blurt them out like a fool. Abruptly turning her shoulder, she fingered the gold cross she wore on a chain round her neck and gazed down the cobbled street as it ran down to the quays and the castle in Quimperlé proper. Overhead, the house martins threaded back and forth across a pink-streaked sky.

'Nothing.'Rose wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and sighed. Young Anton was toiling up the hill, pulling a hand cart laden with bales of cloth, destined doubtless for Mark Quémeneur, the town's main tailor now her husband was dead. 'That boy will have to hurry if he wants to get to Mark's workshop before he locks up for the evening.'

'Rozenn Kerber, don't you dare change the subject!'

Rozenn sighed. 'It was nothing, Mikaela, I spoke out of turn. It was so hot in Countess Muriel's solar today, my brain must have addled.'

As Anton and the cart rumbled by, Mikaela tugged at her hand, trying to make her meet her eyes. 'No escape, Rose. You said something extremely interesting. You said you already know who your true love is, and it didn't sound to me as though you were referring to Per.' Mikaela's voice was light and teasing, but she was frowning. 'I know you were fond of him, but you were hardly starry-eyed when you married. You didn't mean Per, did you? Is it someone I know?'

'Leave it, Mikaela, I spoke without thought.'

'Tell me, Rose,' Mikaela said, softly wheedling. 'Tell me who you love.'

'No.' Rozenn tossed her head and laughed at her friend's persistence. 'In truth, I was going to tell you some time soon, but since this has you in such a fever, you have to guess. I'll share my supper with you if you guess his name.'

'Not fair, since you were going to tell me anyway.'

'It's more fun teasing you! And did my ears deceive me, or didn't you just say I needed to have more fun?'

Mikaela narrowed her eyes. 'That, Rose, is a low blow.'

'Go on, guess! I went to the castle bakehouse and Stefan gave me a chicken pie that would feed a giant. There's far too much just for me.'She moved to the threshold, and pulled her garlanded door fully open. 'Come in, please. Your father will know where you are.'

The house that Rozenn had shared with her husband was, like most of the merchants' houses in Hauteville, a two-roomed dwelling, wattle and daub on a wood frame. The room at the front, facing the street, had wide shutters that Per used to fling open to display the shop and its wares. The shutters were pulled to now, and the shop was stuffy and full of deepening shadows. A further door led through to the room behind the shop, the living room where Rozenn and Per had cooked and eaten and slept. Light glowed there and the girls moved towards it, long skirts rustling. The shutter on the far wall was open, and the back of a neighbour's house was dark against a purpling sky.

As they passed through the shop, Mikaela's gaze fell on the shelves, half of which were empty. Her frown deepened. 'Your stock, Rozenn? Where's all the cloth?'

'Sold most of it.'

'To Mark Quémeneur?'

'Yes.'

'Will it pay Per's debts?'Mikaela asked, knowing how upset her friend had been to discover that her husband owed several of the townsfolk money.

'I pray so.'

Mikaela indicated the remaining stock. 'And what happens to this lot?'

Rozenn smiled. 'I plan to sell it on market day. Mark offered me a reasonable price, but you know what a huckster he is. These fabrics should sell quite easily, and I think I can make more money myself.'

'You'll still take in sewing, though?'

Rozenn murmured something noncommittal and turned away, not quite ready to reveal her plans to leave the Duchy. 'Mark was pleased to have the damasks and the Byzantine silks. Oh, and before I forget, I saved you a length of that blue velvet you were so taken with.'

'Did you?' Mikaela's eyes lit up. 'My thanks but, Rose, I do have a little money. I can pay you.'

'Don't be silly. Per may have left debts, but I am not so encumbered that I can't give you a gift.'

'You are generous. But what will you do without your shop? You will keep on with your sewing? Rose, you must. You're so clever with a needle, you'll never want for work.'

Leading the way into the living room, Rose smiled and bent to add a log on to the fire in the central hearth. Taking a taper, she lit a couple of candles and waved Mikaela to a stool. 'Aye, there's always needlework.' She picked up the sewing and her heavy money pouch and dropped them on the bed by the wall. It was such a relief to know that soon she would be able to pay off Per's debts.

At the table, Mikaela leaned her chin on one hand and airily waved the other while Rozenn hunted out wooden cups and plates. 'Enough of work,' Mikaela said. 'Let's get to the main business of the evening. I have to guess who Rozenn loves? Who can it be?' She tapped her lips with her forefinger. 'You say I know him?'

'Ye…es, but you won't have seen him for a while.'

'Hmm.' Abruptly Mikaela straightened. 'Oh, this is like stealing sweetmeats from a baby! I know, I know exactly who it is!'

Rozenn took a wine-skin down from its hook, drew the stopper and reached for Mikaela's cup. 'You do?'

'Yes, yes, of course I do! It's Ben, Benedict Silvester!' The wine-skin jerked in Rozenn's hand. Rozenn stared blankly at a dark pool of wine that had somehow splashed on to the table. 'B-Ben?'

'Yes! The lute-player.'

Rozenn snorted and shook her head. 'I wouldn't love Benedict Silvester if he were the last man on earth.'

Mikaela raised a brow. 'You wouldn't? I always thought you adored each other. You played together as children whenever he was around—inseparable, you were.'

'Children are extremely uncritical.'

'But you do like him, Rose, I know you do!'

'Yes, yes, of course I like him,' Rozenn said, a touch impatiently. 'How could I not? He's kind and witty and amusing.'

Mikaela's expression grew dreamy. 'Handsome, Rozenn. Don't forget that. Those eyes—dark as sin—'

'He's a rootless charmer—'

'Those long eyelashes…hair like ebony. And he plays the lute like an angel.'

'That last is true.'

Mikaela's bosom heaved. 'And as for his body…' Rozenn scowled. 'What would you know about Ben's body?'

Mikaela's lips twitched. 'I thought that would sting. I know I'm right, it is Ben! Rozenn loves Ben Silvester…'

'I do not!' Rozenn thumped Mikaela's cup down on the table and turned to the hearth where Stefan's pie was warming in a dish. Honesty compelled her to add, 'At least, not in the way you mean. I love him as a brother, in the same way that I love Adam.'

Mikaela tipped her head to one side. 'I thought at one time you would marry Ben, you and he seemed so well suited, but you married Per and—'

'Ben and I? Well suited? You link me with a feckless lute-player who has seduced half the women in Brittany! You flatter me…'

Mikaela did not respond. Her finger tapped on her mouth.

'Besides,' Rozenn said, frowning, 'I haven't seen Ben in two years. Not since that quarrel that flared up between him and Adam.'

'Yes, that was odd. Until then they had been very close. I wonder what it was about?'

'I have no idea, Adam would never say.'

'So there has to be someone else who hasn't been in Quimperlé for some time,' Mikaela said thoughtfully. 'Someone else whom you love?'

'Yes. And it really is not Benedict Silvester. Think again.'

Mikaela sipped at her wine and eyed Rozenn over the rim of her cup. 'This is good. Did you buy it from Father?'

'Countess Muriel gave it to me. Come on, Mikaela, guess again.'

Setting her cup down, Mikaela shook her head. 'Lord knows, if it's not Ben. Mark?'

'Mark Quémeneur? No, he's more of a business associate.'

'One of Adam's cronies then? Didn't you have word from him a week back?'

'Yes and yes. Your aim is improving!'

'So, this paragon is a knight? Aye, you would have it in mind to marry a knight…'

Setting the pie on the table, Rozenn pulled up a stool opposite Mikaela.

'Not that knight who gave you that gold cross, the one with a lute like Ben's? Not Sir Richard of Asculf?'

With a flourish, Rozenn cut a large slice from Stefan's pie. 'The very same, well done! You, dear friend, have won yourself some of the best chicken pie in Quimperlé.'

The Novice Bride

2008-07-24T08:38:46Z

Boglin19:

[[Category:2007 Releases]][[Category:Historical Romance]][[Category:Medieval]][[Category:England]][[Category:Marriage of Convenience]]
* '''Author''': [[Carol Townend]]
* '''Publisher''': [[Harlequin]] [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* '''Year''': 2007
* '''UK ISBN''': 978 0263 86249 2
* '''Setting''': Norman England, 1066
* '''Mini-series''': Wessex Weddings
* '''Amazon.com Listing''': [[http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=9&y=17]]
* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing: [[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_ss_w_h_/203-6684579-9763936?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=12&y=15]]

==Book Description==

Innocent bride, conquering husband!

As she is a novice, Lady Cecily of Fulford's knowledge of men is non-existent. But when tragic news bids her home immediately, her only means of escape from the convent is to brazenly offer herself to the enemy...as a bride!

With her fate now in the hands of her husband, Sir Adam Wymark, she battles to protect her family. Suspicion and betrayal are rife, yet their convenient marriage offers Cecily much more than comfort in her knight's arms...

==Related Titles==

Other books in the Wessex Weddings Mini-series:
* [[An Honorable Rogue]] - 2008
* [[His Captive Lady]] - 2008

==Reviews==
* [http://cataromance.com/index.php?p=211 CataRomance]
* [http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Thenovicebride.html Coffee Time Romance]
* [http://merrimonbookreviews.com/rev_carol_townend.html Merrimon Books]
* [http://redrosesforauthors.blogspot.com/2007/07/novice-bride.html Red Roses for Authors]
* [http://www.romancejunkiesreviews.com/artman/publish/historical/The_Novice_Bride.shtml Romance Junkies]
* [http://romancereaderatheart.com/newsearch/proxy.pl?terms=The%20Novice%20Bride&url=http%3A%2F%2Fromancereaderatheart.com%2Fpubsandpromos%2F2007%2Faug07%2FNB_CT.html Romance Reader at Heart]
* [http://pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/search?q=carol+townend The Pink Heart Society]

==Excerpt from The Novice Bride==

Novice Cecily was on her knees in St Anne's chapel when the shouting began outside. According to the candle clock it was almost noon, and Cecily—who in her former life had been called Lady Cecily Fulford—was in retreat. She had sworn not to speak a word to anyone till after the nuns had broken their fasts the next morning. A small figure in a threadbare grey habit and veil, alone at her prie-dieu, Cecily had about eighteen hours of silence to go, and was determined that this time her retreat would not be broken.

Lamps glowed softly in wall sconces, and above the altar a little November daylight was filtering through the narrow unshuttered window. Ignoring the chill seeping up from the stone flags, Cecily bent her veiled head over her prayer beads. "Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is—"

A thud on the chapel door had her swinging round. Another harder one had the thick oak door bouncing on its hinges.

"Cecily! Cecily! Are you in there? You must let me speak to you! It's—"

The woman's voice was cut off abruptly, but Cecily's prayers were quite forgotten. For though the voice did not belong to any of the nuns, it seemed vaguely familiar. She strained to hear more.

Two voices, arguing, and none too quietly. One belonged to Sister Judith, the convent portress. The other voice, the outsider's, went up a notch in pitch, touched on hysteria…

Part curious, part anxious, Cecily scrambled to her feet. Not more bad news, surely? Hadn't the loss of both her father and brother at Hastings been enough…?

She was halfway up the aisle when the door burst open. Lamps flickered, and her blood sister, the Lady Emma Fulford, threw off the restraining arms of the portress and hurtled into the chapel.

One year Cecily's senior, seventeen-year-old Emma was a vision in flowing pink robes and a burgundy velvet cloak. Dropping a riding crop and a pair of cream kid gloves onto the flagstones, she flung herself at Cecily.

"Cecily! Oh, Cecily, you must speak to me. You must!" Finding herself enveloped in a fierce embrace that bordered on the desperate, Cecily fought free of silks and velvets and the scent of roses so that she could study her sister's face. One look had her abandoning her vow of silence.

"Of course I'll speak to you."

Emma gave an unladylike sniff. "She—" a jerk of her head at Sister Judith set her long silken veil aquiver "—said you were in retreat, not to be disturbed. That you may at last be going to take your vows."

"That is so." Emma had been crying, and not just in the past few minutes either, for her fine complexion was blotched and puffy and her eyes were rimmed with shadows. In the four years since Cecily had been brought to the convent she and her elder sister had become strangers, but her sister's delicate beauty had lived on in her mind. This distraught, haggard Emma made her blood run cold.

Sister Judith shut the chapel door with a thump and stood just inside the threshold. Folding her arms, she shook her head at Cecily, the novice who once again had failed to keep her retreat.

Cecily took Emma's hand. Her fingers were like ice. "Something else has happened, hasn't it? Something dreadful."

Emma's eyes filled and she gave a shuddering sob. "Oh, Cecily, it's Maman…"

"Maman? What? What's happened to Maman?" But Cecily had no need to wait for an answer, for she could read it in Emma's expression.

Their mother was dead.

Knees buckling, Cecily gripped Emma's arms and the sisters clung to each other.

"Not Maman," Cecily choked. "Emma, please, not Maman too…" Emma nodded, tears flooding openly down her cheeks. "Wh…when?"

"Three days since."

"How? Was it…was it the babe?" It had to be that. Their mother, Philippa of Fulford, had been thirty-seven—not young—and she had been seven months pregnant at the time of the battle at Hastings. Of Norman extraction herself, she had found the great battle especially hard to cope with. Cecily knew her mother would have taken great pains to hide her emotions, but the deaths of her Anglo Saxon husband and her firstborn son would have been too much to bear.

Many women died in childbed, and at her mother's age, and in her state of grief…

Emma dashed away her tears and nodded. "Aye. Her time came early, her labour was long and hard, and afterwards… Oh, Cecily, there was so much blood. We could do nothing to stem the flow. Would that you had been there. Your time at Sister Mathilda's elbow has taught you so much about healing, whereas I…" Her voice trailed off.

Cecily shook her head. It was true that she had greedily taken in all that Sister Mathilda had chosen to teach her, but she also knew that not everyone could be saved. "Emma, listen. Maman's death was not your fault. Once bleeding starts inside it's nigh impossible to stop…and besides, it's possible she simply lost the will to live after father and Cenwulf were killed."

Emma sniffed. "Aye. We were going to send for you. Wilf was ready to mount up. But by the time we realised the dangers it…it was too late." Emma gripped Cecily's hands.

"It was not your fault." after the messenger came from Hastings. She could not eat or sleep. She wandered round the Hall like a ghost. It was as though, with Father dead, a light went out within her. Father was not an easy man, and Maman was not one to wear her affections openly—"

"'Displays of sentiment are vulgar, and not suited to a lady,'" Cecily murmured, repeating a well-worn phrase of her mother's.

"Quite so. But she loved him. If any doubted that—"Emma gave Cecily a penetrating look, knowing that Cecily and her father, Thane Edgar, had crossed swords on more matters than the delaying of her profession. "If any doubted that, this last month would have set them right. And Cenwulf." Emma's gaze brimmed with sympathy. "I realise you did adore him, too."

"Maman's heart was broken."

Emma gulped. "Aye. And twisted." "Because her own countrymen were the invaders?"

Emma squeezed Cecily's hand. "I knew you'd understand." "Lady Emma…"Sister Judith's voice cut in, reminding the girls of the portress's presence by the chapel door.

It was Sister Judith's duty to give or deny permission for outsiders to enter the convent. Since the order was not an enclosed one, permission was granted more often than not, but never when a nun or novice was on retreat. Hands folded at her girdle, silver cross winking at her breast, the nun regarded Emma sternly, but not unkindly. She had been moved, Cecily saw, by what she had heard.

"Lady Emma, since you have seen fit to break your sister's retreat by this conference, may I suggest that you continue in the portress's lodge? The Angelus bell is about to strike, and the rest of the community will be needing the chapel." "Of course, Sister Judith. Our apologies," Cecily said. Bending to retrieve Emma's riding crop and gloves, Cecily took her sister's hand and led her out of the chapel.

A chill winter wind was tossing straw about the yard. Woodsmoke gusted out of the cookhouse, and their breath made white vapour which was no sooner formed than it was snatched away.

Emma drew the burgundy velvet cloak more tightly about her shoulders.

Cecily, who had not touched a cloak of such quality since entering the convent, and in any case was not wearing even a thin one since she was within the confines of the convent, shivered, and ushered her sister swiftly across the yard towards the south gate.

The portress's lodge, a thatched wooden hut, sagged against the palisade. Abutting the lodge at its eastern end was the convent's guest house, a slightly larger, marginally more inviting building; Cecily led her sister inside.

Even though the door was thrown wide the room was full of shadows, for the wooden walls were planked tight, with only a shuttered slit or two to let in the light. Since no guests had been looked for, there was no fire in the central hearth, only a pile of dead ashes. November marked the beginning of the dark months, but Cecily knew better than to incur Mother Aethelflaeda's wrath by lighting a precious candle. If she added the sin of wasting a candle in daylight to the sin of her broken retreat, she'd be doing penance till Christmas ten years hence.

Dropping Emma's riding crop and gloves on the trestle along with her rosary, Cecily wrenched the shutters open. The cold and ensuing draughts would have to be borne. Emma paced up and down. Her pink gown, Cecily now had time to notice, was liberally spattered with mud about the hem, her silken veil was awry, and the chaplet that secured it was crooked.

"You rode fast to bring me this sad news," Cecily said slowly, as her sister strode back and forth. Now that the first shock was passing, her mind was beginning to work, and she had questions. "And yet…if Maman died three days since, you must have delayed your ride to me. There is more, isn't there?"

Emma stopped her pacing. "Yes. The babe lives. A boy." Cecily gaped. "A boy? And he lives? Oh, it's a miracle—new life after so much death!" Her face fell. "But so early? Emma, he cannot survive."

"So I thought. He is small. I took the liberty of having him christened Philip, in case…in case—"

Emma broke off with a choking sound, but she had no need to add more. Having lived in the convent for four years, Cecily knew the Church's view as well as any. If the babe did die, better that he died christened into the faith. For if he died outside it, he would be for eternity a lost soul.

"Philip," Cecily murmured. "Maman would have liked that." "Aye. And it's not a Saxon name, so if he survives…I thought his chances better if he bore a Norman name."

"It is a good thought to stress Maman's lineage rather than Father's," Cecily replied. The son of a Saxon thane could not thrive if in truth England was to become Norman, but the son of a Norman lady…

Emma drew close, touched Cecily's arm, and again Cecily became conscious of the incongruous fragrance of roses in November, of the softness of her sister's gown, of the whiteness of her hands, of her unbroken lady's nails. All the mud in England couldn't obscure either the quality of Emma's clothing or her high status.

She brushed awkwardly at her own coarse skirts in a vain attempt to shake out some dust and creases, and hide the hole at the knee where she'd torn the fabric grubbing up fennel roots in the herb garden. There were so many holes in the cloth it was nigh impossible to darn. "I would have come at once to tell you, Cecily, if I had not had my hands full caring for our new brother."

"You were right to put Philip first. Do you think he may thrive?"

"I pray so. I left him with Gudrun. She was brought to bed a few months since herself, with a girl, and she is acting at his wet nurse." The restless pacing resumed. "He would not feed at first, but Gudrun persevered, and now…and now…" A faint smile lit Emma's eyes. "I think he may thrive, after all."

"That at least is good news."

"Aye." Emma turned, picked up her riding crop from the trestle and tapped it against her side. She stood with her back to Cecily, facing the door, and stared at the cookhouse smoke swirling in the yard. "Cecily…I…I confess I didn't really come to tell you about Philip…"

"No? What, then?" Cecily made as if to move towards Emma, but a sharp hand movement from her sister stilled her. "Emma?"

"I…I've come to bid you farewell."

Thinking she had not heard properly, Cecily frowned. "What?"

"I'm going north." Emma began to speak quickly, her back unyielding. "More messengers came, after Maman…after Philip was born. Messengers from Duke William."

"Normans? At Fulford Hall?"

A jerky nod. "They'll be there by now."

Cecily touched Emma's arm to make her turn, but Emma resisted Cecily's urging and kept staring at the door. "The carrion crows are come already," Emma said bitterly. "They are efficient, at least, and have not wasted any time seizing our lands. The Duke knows that our father and Cenwulf are dead. In a convoluted message that spoke of King Harold's perfidy as an oath-breaker, I was informed that I, Thane Edgar's daughter, have been made a ward of Duke William, and I am to be given in marriage to one of his knights. And not even a man with proper Norman blood in him, like Maman, but some Breton clod with no breeding at all!"

Emma swung round. Her eyes were wild and hard, and the riding crop smacked against her thigh. "Cecily, I won't. I can't— I won't do it!"

Cecily caught Emma's hands between hers. "Have you met him?" Emma heaved in a shuddering breath. "The Breton? No. Duke William's messenger said he would follow shortly, so I left as soon as I might. Cecily, I can't marry him, so don't talk to me of duty!"

"Who am I to do that when I have delayed committing myself to God for so many years?" Cecily said gently.

Emma's expression softened. "I know. You never asked to be a nun. You follow our father's will in that. I have often thought it unfair that simply because I was born first I should be the one expected to marry while you, the younger girl, were sacrificed to the Church and a life of contemplation even though you had no vocation."

"We both know it was a matter of riches. The Church accepted me with a far smaller dower than any thane or knight ever would. Father could not afford to marry us both well."

Emma brightened. "Think, Cecily. Father is gone; the Church has had your dower, such as it was—what is to prevent your leaving?"

"Emma!"

"You were not made to be a nun. I know Father promised you to the Church, but what promise did you ever make?"

"I swore to try and do his will." "Yes, and that you have done. Four years mewed up in a convent. And look at you." Emma's lip curled as she plucked at the stuff of Cecily's habit. "This grey sackcloth does not become you. I'll warrant it itches like a plague of lice…"

"It does, but mortification of the flesh encourages humility—" "Rot! You don't believe that! And look at the state of your hands. Peasant hands—"

"From gardening." Cecily lifted her chin. "I work in the herb garden. It's useful and I enjoy it."

"Peasant hands, as I said." Emma lowered her voice. "Cecily, be bold. You can leave this place."

Cecily made an exasperated sound. "Where would I go? Back to Fulford, to your Breton knight? Be realistic, Emma, what use has this world for a dowerless novice?" She smiled. "Besides, I'm wise to you. You only suggest this as a sop to your conscience."

Emma stiffened. "What do you mean?" "Like it or not, Emma, your duty is at Fulford. You are, as you say, the eldest daughter, born to wed. The people at Fulford need you. Who else will speak for them? And what of our new brother? I'll warrant Duke William doesn't even know of his existence. How do you think his knight will react when he finds that Fulford has a male heir after all? No, Emma, your duty is plain and you cannot shirk it. You must return to Fulford and wait for the knight Duke William has chosen for you."

Emma was very pale; her mouth became a thin line. "No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

The Novice Bride

2008-07-24T08:35:40Z

Boglin19:

[[Category:2007 Releases]][[Category:Historical Romance]][[Category:Medieval]][[Category:England]][[Category:Marriage of Convenience]]
* '''Author''': [[Carol Townend]]
* '''Publisher''': [[Harlequin]] [[Mills and Boon|Mills & Boon]]
* '''Year''': 2007
* '''UK ISBN''': 978 0263 86249 2
* '''Setting''': Norman England, 1066
* '''Mini-series''': Wessex Weddings
* '''Amazon.com Listing''': [[http://www.amazon.co.uk/Novice-Bride-Historical-Romance/dp/0263862496/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1199729402&sr=8-2 The Novice Bride]]
* '''Amazon.co.uk Listing: [[http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_ss_w_h_/203-6684579-9763936?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carol+townend&x=12&y=15]]

==Book Description==

Innocent bride, conquering husband!

As she is a novice, Lady Cecily of Fulford's knowledge of men is non-existent. But when tragic news bids her home immediately, her only means of escape from the convent is to brazenly offer herself to the enemy...as a bride!

With her fate now in the hands of her husband, Sir Adam Wymark, she battles to protect her family. Suspicion and betrayal are rife, yet their convenient marriage offers Cecily much more than comfort in her knight's arms...

==Related Titles==

Other books in the Wessex Weddings Mini-series:
* [[An Honorable Rogue]] - 2008
* [[His Captive Lady]] - 2008

==Reviews==
* [http://cataromance.com/index.php?p=211 CataRomance]
* [http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Thenovicebride.html Coffee Time Romance]
* [http://merrimonbookreviews.com/rev_carol_townend.html Merrimon Books]
* [http://redrosesforauthors.blogspot.com/2007/07/novice-bride.html Red Roses for Authors]
* [http://www.romancejunkiesreviews.com/artman/publish/historical/The_Novice_Bride.shtml Romance Junkies]
* [http://romancereaderatheart.com/newsearch/proxy.pl?terms=The%20Novice%20Bride&url=http%3A%2F%2Fromancereaderatheart.com%2Fpubsandpromos%2F2007%2Faug07%2FNB_CT.html Romance Reader at Heart]
* [http://pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/search?q=carol+townend The Pink Heart Society]

==Excerpt from The Novice Bride==

Novice Cecily was on her knees in St Anne's chapel when the shouting began outside. According to the candle clock it was almost noon, and Cecily—who in her former life had been called Lady Cecily Fulford—was in retreat. She had sworn not to speak a word to anyone till after the nuns had broken their fasts the next morning. A small figure in a threadbare grey habit and veil, alone at her prie-dieu, Cecily had about eighteen hours of silence to go, and was determined that this time her retreat would not be broken.

Lamps glowed softly in wall sconces, and above the altar a little November daylight was filtering through the narrow unshuttered window. Ignoring the chill seeping up from the stone flags, Cecily bent her veiled head over her prayer beads. "Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is—"

A thud on the chapel door had her swinging round. Another harder one had the thick oak door bouncing on its hinges.

"Cecily! Cecily! Are you in there? You must let me speak to you! It's—"

The woman's voice was cut off abruptly, but Cecily's prayers were quite forgotten. For though the voice did not belong to any of the nuns, it seemed vaguely familiar. She strained to hear more.

Two voices, arguing, and none too quietly. One belonged to Sister Judith, the convent portress. The other voice, the outsider's, went up a notch in pitch, touched on hysteria…

Part curious, part anxious, Cecily scrambled to her feet. Not more bad news, surely? Hadn't the loss of both her father and brother at Hastings been enough…?

She was halfway up the aisle when the door burst open. Lamps flickered, and her blood sister, the Lady Emma Fulford, threw off the restraining arms of the portress and hurtled into the chapel.

One year Cecily's senior, seventeen-year-old Emma was a vision in flowing pink robes and a burgundy velvet cloak. Dropping a riding crop and a pair of cream kid gloves onto the flagstones, she flung herself at Cecily.

"Cecily! Oh, Cecily, you must speak to me. You must!" Finding herself enveloped in a fierce embrace that bordered on the desperate, Cecily fought free of silks and velvets and the scent of roses so that she could study her sister's face. One look had her abandoning her vow of silence.

"Of course I'll speak to you."

Emma gave an unladylike sniff. "She—" a jerk of her head at Sister Judith set her long silken veil aquiver "—said you were in retreat, not to be disturbed. That you may at last be going to take your vows."

"That is so." Emma had been crying, and not just in the past few minutes either, for her fine complexion was blotched and puffy and her eyes were rimmed with shadows. In the four years since Cecily had been brought to the convent she and her elder sister had become strangers, but her sister's delicate beauty had lived on in her mind. This distraught, haggard Emma made her blood run cold.

Sister Judith shut the chapel door with a thump and stood just inside the threshold. Folding her arms, she shook her head at Cecily, the novice who once again had failed to keep her retreat.

Cecily took Emma's hand. Her fingers were like ice. "Something else has happened, hasn't it? Something dreadful."

Emma's eyes filled and she gave a shuddering sob. "Oh, Cecily, it's Maman…"

"Maman? What? What's happened to Maman?" But Cecily had no need to wait for an answer, for she could read it in Emma's expression.

Their mother was dead.

Knees buckling, Cecily gripped Emma's arms and the sisters clung to each other.

"Not Maman," Cecily choked. "Emma, please, not Maman too…" Emma nodded, tears flooding openly down her cheeks. "Wh…when?"

"Three days since."

"How? Was it…was it the babe?" It had to be that. Their mother, Philippa of Fulford, had been thirty-seven—not young—and she had been seven months pregnant at the time of the battle at Hastings. Of Norman extraction herself, she had found the great battle especially hard to cope with. Cecily knew her mother would have taken great pains to hide her emotions, but the deaths of her Anglo Saxon husband and her firstborn son would have been too much to bear.

Many women died in childbed, and at her mother's age, and in her state of grief…

Emma dashed away her tears and nodded. "Aye. Her time came early, her labour was long and hard, and afterwards… Oh, Cecily, there was so much blood. We could do nothing to stem the flow. Would that you had been there. Your time at Sister Mathilda's elbow has taught you so much about healing, whereas I…" Her voice trailed off.

Cecily shook her head. It was true that she had greedily taken in all that Sister Mathilda had chosen to teach her, but she also knew that not everyone could be saved. "Emma, listen. Maman's death was not your fault. Once bleeding starts inside it's nigh impossible to stop…and besides, it's possible she simply lost the will to live after father and Cenwulf were killed."

Emma sniffed. "Aye. We were going to send for you. Wilf was ready to mount up. But by the time we realised the dangers it…it was too late." Emma gripped Cecily's hands.

"It was not your fault." after the messenger came from Hastings. She could not eat or sleep. She wandered round the Hall like a ghost. It was as though, with Father dead, a light went out within her. Father was not an easy man, and Maman was not one to wear her affections openly—"

"'Displays of sentiment are vulgar, and not suited to a lady,'" Cecily murmured, repeating a well-worn phrase of her mother's.

"Quite so. But she loved him. If any doubted that—"Emma gave Cecily a penetrating look, knowing that Cecily and her father, Thane Edgar, had crossed swords on more matters than the delaying of her profession. "If any doubted that, this last month would have set them right. And Cenwulf." Emma's gaze brimmed with sympathy. "I realise you did adore him, too."

"Maman's heart was broken."

Emma gulped. "Aye. And twisted." "Because her own countrymen were the invaders?"

Emma squeezed Cecily's hand. "I knew you'd understand." "Lady Emma…"Sister Judith's voice cut in, reminding the girls of the portress's presence by the chapel door.

It was Sister Judith's duty to give or deny permission for outsiders to enter the convent. Since the order was not an enclosed one, permission was granted more often than not, but never when a nun or novice was on retreat. Hands folded at her girdle, silver cross winking at her breast, the nun regarded Emma sternly, but not unkindly. She had been moved, Cecily saw, by what she had heard.

"Lady Emma, since you have seen fit to break your sister's retreat by this conference, may I suggest that you continue in the portress's lodge? The Angelus bell is about to strike, and the rest of the community will be needing the chapel." "Of course, Sister Judith. Our apologies," Cecily said. Bending to retrieve Emma's riding crop and gloves, Cecily took her sister's hand and led her out of the chapel.

A chill winter wind was tossing straw about the yard. Woodsmoke gusted out of the cookhouse, and their breath made white vapour which was no sooner formed than it was snatched away.

Emma drew the burgundy velvet cloak more tightly about her shoulders.

Cecily, who had not touched a cloak of such quality since entering the convent, and in any case was not wearing even a thin one since she was within the confines of the convent, shivered, and ushered her sister swiftly across the yard towards the south gate.

The portress's lodge, a thatched wooden hut, sagged against the palisade. Abutting the lodge at its eastern end was the convent's guest house, a slightly larger, marginally more inviting building; Cecily led her sister inside.

Even though the door was thrown wide the room was full of shadows, for the wooden walls were planked tight, with only a shuttered slit or two to let in the light. Since no guests had been looked for, there was no fire in the central hearth, only a pile of dead ashes. November marked the beginning of the dark months, but Cecily knew better than to incur Mother Aethelflaeda's wrath by lighting a precious candle. If she added the sin of wasting a candle in daylight to the sin of her broken retreat, she'd be doing penance till Christmas ten years hence.

Dropping Emma's riding crop and gloves on the trestle along with her rosary, Cecily wrenched the shutters open. The cold and ensuing draughts would have to be borne. Emma paced up and down. Her pink gown, Cecily now had time to notice, was liberally spattered with mud about the hem, her silken veil was awry, and the chaplet that secured it was crooked.

"You rode fast to bring me this sad news," Cecily said slowly, as her sister strode back and forth. Now that the first shock was passing, her mind was beginning to work, and she had questions. "And yet…if Maman died three days since, you must have delayed your ride to me. There is more, isn't there?"

Emma stopped her pacing. "Yes. The babe lives. A boy." Cecily gaped. "A boy? And he lives? Oh, it's a miracle—new life after so much death!" Her face fell. "But so early? Emma, he cannot survive."

"So I thought. He is small. I took the liberty of having him christened Philip, in case…in case—"

Emma broke off with a choking sound, but she had no need to add more. Having lived in the convent for four years, Cecily knew the Church's view as well as any. If the babe did die, better that he died christened into the faith. For if he died outside it, he would be for eternity a lost soul.

"Philip," Cecily murmured. "Maman would have liked that." "Aye. And it's not a Saxon name, so if he survives…I thought his chances better if he bore a Norman name."

"It is a good thought to stress Maman's lineage rather than Father's," Cecily replied. The son of a Saxon thane could not thrive if in truth England was to become Norman, but the son of a Norman lady…

Emma drew close, touched Cecily's arm, and again Cecily became conscious of the incongruous fragrance of roses in November, of the softness of her sister's gown, of the whiteness of her hands, of her unbroken lady's nails. All the mud in England couldn't obscure either the quality of Emma's clothing or her high status.

She brushed awkwardly at her own coarse skirts in a vain attempt to shake out some dust and creases, and hide the hole at the knee where she'd torn the fabric grubbing up fennel roots in the herb garden. There were so many holes in the cloth it was nigh impossible to darn. "I would have come at once to tell you, Cecily, if I had not had my hands full caring for our new brother."

"You were right to put Philip first. Do you think he may thrive?"

"I pray so. I left him with Gudrun. She was brought to bed a few months since herself, with a girl, and she is acting at his wet nurse." The restless pacing resumed. "He would not feed at first, but Gudrun persevered, and now…and now…" A faint smile lit Emma's eyes. "I think he may thrive, after all."

"That at least is good news."

"Aye." Emma turned, picked up her riding crop from the trestle and tapped it against her side. She stood with her back to Cecily, facing the door, and stared at the cookhouse smoke swirling in the yard. "Cecily…I…I confess I didn't really come to tell you about Philip…"

"No? What, then?" Cecily made as if to move towards Emma, but a sharp hand movement from her sister stilled her. "Emma?"

"I…I've come to bid you farewell."

Thinking she had not heard properly, Cecily frowned. "What?"

"I'm going north." Emma began to speak quickly, her back unyielding. "More messengers came, after Maman…after Philip was born. Messengers from Duke William."

"Normans? At Fulford Hall?"

A jerky nod. "They'll be there by now."

Cecily touched Emma's arm to make her turn, but Emma resisted Cecily's urging and kept staring at the door. "The carrion crows are come already," Emma said bitterly. "They are efficient, at least, and have not wasted any time seizing our lands. The Duke knows that our father and Cenwulf are dead. In a convoluted message that spoke of King Harold's perfidy as an oath-breaker, I was informed that I, Thane Edgar's daughter, have been made a ward of Duke William, and I am to be given in marriage to one of his knights. And not even a man with proper Norman blood in him, like Maman, but some Breton clod with no breeding at all!"

Emma swung round. Her eyes were wild and hard, and the riding crop smacked against her thigh. "Cecily, I won't. I can't— I won't do it!"

Cecily caught Emma's hands between hers. "Have you met him?" Emma heaved in a shuddering breath. "The Breton? No. Duke William's messenger said he would follow shortly, so I left as soon as I might. Cecily, I can't marry him, so don't talk to me of duty!"

"Who am I to do that when I have delayed committing myself to God for so many years?" Cecily said gently.

Emma's expression softened. "I know. You never asked to be a nun. You follow our father's will in that. I have often thought it unfair that simply because I was born first I should be the one expected to marry while you, the younger girl, were sacrificed to the Church and a life of contemplation even though you had no vocation."

"We both know it was a matter of riches. The Church accepted me with a far smaller dower than any thane or knight ever would. Father could not afford to marry us both well."

Emma brightened. "Think, Cecily. Father is gone; the Church has had your dower, such as it was—what is to prevent your leaving?"

"Emma!"

"You were not made to be a nun. I know Father promised you to the Church, but what promise did you ever make?"

"I swore to try and do his will." "Yes, and that you have done. Four years mewed up in a convent. And look at you." Emma's lip curled as she plucked at the stuff of Cecily's habit. "This grey sackcloth does not become you. I'll warrant it itches like a plague of lice…"

"It does, but mortification of the flesh encourages humility—" "Rot! You don't believe that! And look at the state of your hands. Peasant hands—"

"From gardening." Cecily lifted her chin. "I work in the herb garden. It's useful and I enjoy it."

"Peasant hands, as I said." Emma lowered her voice. "Cecily, be bold. You can leave this place."

Cecily made an exasperated sound. "Where would I go? Back to Fulford, to your Breton knight? Be realistic, Emma, what use has this world for a dowerless novice?" She smiled. "Besides, I'm wise to you. You only suggest this as a sop to your conscience."

Emma stiffened. "What do you mean?" "Like it or not, Emma, your duty is at Fulford. You are, as you say, the eldest daughter, born to wed. The people at Fulford need you. Who else will speak for them? And what of our new brother? I'll warrant Duke William doesn't even know of his existence. How do you think his knight will react when he finds that Fulford has a male heir after all? No, Emma, your duty is plain and you cannot shirk it. You must return to Fulford and wait for the knight Duke William has chosen for you."

Emma was very pale; her mouth became a thin line. "No."

"Yes!"

"No!"