Broken Wings
- Author: Leanne Karella
- Publisher: Wings ePress (2006)
- Genre: Historical Medieval Romance
- Setting: England
Back Cover Blurb
Believing she's killed her abusive husband, Lady Meghan, bruised and broken, finds shelter in Galen's home, in his arms, but he's betrothed to another.
When Lord Galen Thorne rescues the battered waif, he never expected to uncover a woman who could tempt him to the breaking point...or steal his hardened heart.
When the secrets of Meghan's past are revealed, will Galen keep her as his own, or is she destined for the gallows?
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What the critics are saying
"With a title that could not have been more appropriate, Broken Wings brings two broken hearts together, causing them to soar above the clouds."
- 5 Angels and RECOMMENDED READ! - Fallen Angel Reviews
Returning his attention to Meghan, he took her none too gently by the shoulders, turned her around, and ushered her into the hall. "That was foolish," he said angrily as he slammed the doors, closing out the glorious sunlight. Meghan's fists clenched at her sides as she turned on him with vehemence. "How dare you treat me as...as..."
As he calmly crossed his arms over his chest, he asked, "As what, Meghan?"
She wanted to scream. "I am not your chattel to be thrown to the wolves when you decide you are through with me!"
He leaned against a nearby table and crossed his ankles in a lazy, relaxed pose. His expression said that he was bemused by her outburst. Quietly, rationally, he said, "Aye, Meghan, that you are. You belong to me and I shall do with you as I please."
Deflation. Dear Lord, she had never thought of what would happen to her if he did not want her. She leaned on the table, her equilibrium thrown off. She was doomed. There was no hope, no way out of this situation.
"I see I have let you believe you are above your station," Galen said softly. "I have been kind, Meghan. I have let you alone and I have let you live in luxury beyond necessity. I see I did all for naught. I had hoped you would soften toward me. Instead, you overstep yourself by shouting at me." He took her chin in his palm and turned her face toward him. "You may stay in that room, or you may move to the servant's quarters at once. The choice is yours. Everyone in my home fulfills a duty. If you do not complete your task, you shan't stay under my roof."
Though her ears seemed to thunder with a torrent of blood, she understood his ultimatum. Mating or misery. A no win situation. As her eyes closed on decision, she stepped away from his grasp. "I thank you for the choice, my lord. You are a truly kind man."
Galen was not sure if she was serious or being facetious with that comment, but he did not like her attitude. "Where will you sleep tonight, Meghan?"
She took a shaky breath, then another. Finally she opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Not under your roof, my lord."
"Arghhh!" Galen slashed his hands through his hair. "Am I so horrible that you would prefer out there," he pointed toward the kitchen door, "to my bed?"
"Nay, my lord. You are not horrible at all. You are correct. You have treated me better than I deserve but I cannot bed you. I simply can not do it!"
"Why?"
"It would be a sin."
Galen threw back his head and laughed. "Then I shall see Father Lonagan in the morn for confession."
"Do not mock me!" She took a gulp of air, her body rigid with anger as her bright blue eyes flashed at him. "I would be the sinner. Please, my lord. You cannot understand this, but I cannot bed with you. It would surely mean my death."
The begging quality of her voice bothered him deeply. He did not think she was the type to beg for many things. He studied her troubled eyes, not understanding.
"You are speaking in riddles now. First you tell me you are afraid of me because of bad experiences with men in the past, now you think you will die? Has someone planted superstitions in your mind? What has Martha been spewing at you when she sees you?"
She shook her head at him. "They are my riddles to understand, not yours. And Martha has nothing to do with this. I will not willingly go to your bed. Unless you go back on your word and force me, I shall move to my new sleeping quarters now. If I may be excused." The last was said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Galen's temple pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. This situation was not turning in his favor and he could think of nothing that might sway her mind. "I insist that you explain your riddles, so I might understand."
"You may not demand that I share my private thoughts with you."
"You may not keep secrets from your master." He pushed away from the table and stood just inches from her, trying to penetrate her rock-solid resolution. Wanting to intimidate her into telling him what was in her mind.
Meeting his eyes boldly, she answered between clenched teeth. "I shall keep this one."
"I could force it out of you--"
She shook her head, her flaxen hair flowed over her shoulders so beautifully he nearly reached out to feel its softness. "I have faced a cruelty you are not capable of. You have sworn to me that you would not harm me, and I believe there is honor in your word."
He watched her lip tremble with fear as she spoke words of courage. "There are ways of cruelty that do not involve shackles and lashings that would break you easily enough." He sighed then, and relaxed his rigid stance. "Shall I send you away? If I cannot trust you, I cannot have you in my home."
"Do with me what you must, my lord," she said in a soft, nasty hiss. "I am but yours to dispose of at your whim."
The doors to the hall crashed open, startling Galen and Meghan out of their discussion. Severn carried a boy in his arms. The boy's head lolled to the side and he groaned weakly.
"What's happened?" Galen asked as Severn laid the boy out on the table near them.
"Frederick, my lord, he is dying." Severn flipped up the edge of the boy's tunic to reveal a jagged, infected gash on the boy's thigh.
"Fetch Martha," Galen said to Meghan.
"I am here, my lord," Martha said as she seemed to materialize from nowhere.
She'd most likely been eavesdropping again. Galen made a mental note to have another talk with Royce about her.
Martha stepped up to the table and glanced quickly at the grotesquely swollen thigh. Flame red with infection and oozing with puss. She made a face of disgust. "Nothing can be done with that, my lord, but cauterizing it and hope for the best."
"Very well." Galen turned back to Severn. "Take him to the smithy, tell him to heat an iron." Galen sighed, "I will be there in a few minutes to do it myself."
"Wait!" Meghan grabbed Severn's arm before he could lift the boy. "Let me see to him."
