Forced to wed the
warrior
Falling for the man…
Noblewoman Amée
Évreaux had pledged her life to God, until her father promised her in marriage
to thundering Norseman, Jorund Jötunnson. After escaping her overbearing
father, Amée vows never to fall under another man’s thumb, but her resistance
to being Jorund’s wife turns to desire as she gets to know her intriguing new
husband. For beneath his fierce exterior she’s glimpsed an unexpectedly pure
heart. If only she can penetrate the fortress that surrounds it…
Purchase Links
UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Viking-Warrior-Mills-Boon-Historical-ebook/dp/B0912CHLMJ
US - https://www.amazon.com/Viking-Warrior-Mills-Boon-Historical-ebook/dp/B0912CHLMJ
Excerpt
NB: Jorund breaks into Amée’s nunnery, claiming the Frankish lady as his
bride.
Abbess
Berthild frowned at the trembling double doors as years of dust was shaken from
its weathered hinges. ‘It will hold… At least until morning. Once their tempers
have cooled, I’m sure they will be more reasonable in the light of a new day.
There is a treaty now. They can no longer behave like animals!’
‘What’s going
on?’ whispered one of the novices.
Sister
Gabriel was helpfully quick to explain Amée’s impending doom. ‘His name is
Jorund Jӧtunnson and he has come to take our poor Amée! He looks like the devil
himself. As tall as a mountain and as broad as the sea!’ She made the holy sign
with a quivering hand. Amée couldn’t blame her for being afraid. They’d all—in
one way or another—seen the fury of the Norse as they’d burned through Francia.
Bringing death and despair to all who stood in their path.
Was that why they were here?
Surely not. It was well known the nunnery had nothing of value, and why
had the warrior asked for her specifically?
She tried to
remain optimistic for the sake of her sisters. But each bang on the door was
another blow to her equanimity. Would her own defences eventually crumble? She
clutched the blanket tighter as her heart thundered louder and louder in her
chest like a runaway horse.
Sister
Gabriel continued—oblivious to Amée’s crisis of confidence. ‘He is one of Jarl
Rollo’s men. He says Amée has been promised to him! Abbess Berthild has refused
him entry until he can provide proof of this from our King.’
Everyone’s
eyes turned towards Amée.
She looked up
at the abbess. ‘Maybe I should go out and speak with him? It would be wrong to
put you and the others at risk. Besides, maybe it’s a misunderstanding.’ How
she prayed it was a misunderstanding! Otherwise, the future she’d worked so
hard for would be lost. She smiled brightly. ‘Princess Gisla will know the
truth of it…’
Bang!
‘And he can’t
possibly refuse to speak with his overlord’s wife…’
Bang!
Her voice
trailed off with each continued knock to the door. ‘She will understand and
sort this whole mess out.’
Bang!
‘She
considers me a friend. I was her companion for many years at court.’
Bang!
‘All will be
well. I’m sure of it. A few calm, reasonable words with the…’
Bang!
‘…the man,
and he’ll understand.’
Bang!
The abbess
sniffed. ‘Absolutely not.’
The doors
creaked and groaned.
Wide-eyed
with horror, the sisters and novices of the nunnery watched as the oak began to
bow under the strain. For many of the sisters, this was not the first time a
Norseman had broken into their home. But with the recent treaty—which granted
land and Princess Gisla’s hand in marriage to Jarl Rollo in return for protection
against raids—they’d prayed those days of torment were behind them.
Apparently
not.
With a
deafening crack, both the hinges and the thick oak bar gave way. The double
doors splitting and then falling to the ground like overripe figs.
The women
lurched back in fright and a few of the serfs ran into the shadows seeking a
place to hide. Several Norse warriors dressed in leathers burst into the
cloister. Dropping the tree trunk they’d used as a hastily cut battering ram,
they drew their swords and approached slowly with predatory intent, glistening
with sweat and barely concealed rage.
‘Where is
Amée Évreux?’ shouted the giant at the head of the group. He was the tallest
man she had ever seen. She had to look up at most people, but he may as well
have been sat on a horse for the way her neck had to bend backwards to see him
clearly as he approached. He was battle-scarred, with a half-head of dark blond
hair thickly coiled on top and braided down his back. The sides of his head
were closely shorn, as was his face, revealing a strong jaw.
But it was
his piercing blue eyes that cut down all her optimism and hope. They were as
sharp and as deadly as the sword in his hand. There would be no negotiation, no
reasoning or bargaining, with this man. Her knees became soft and she stumbled
back a step.
‘Enough
games!’ He snarled, his teeth almost wolf-like as shadows danced across his
menacing face. ‘If I will not have your hospitality, I will have what I came
for!’
Author Bio
–
As
a little girl, Lucy Morris was obsessed with myths and legends. She regularly
escaped into the adventures of her imagination, with characters who were strong
and fierce. Now fully grown she finds she can't forget the stories plaguing her
mind and has to write them down. A book by Lucy Morris will sweep you away on a
historical adventure filled with vivid characters haunted by their pasts. Her
books will have you flying through her pages, desperate to reach her characters
passionately romantic happily ever after.
She lives in Essex, UK, with her husband, two young children, and two cats. She has a massively sweet tooth and loves gin, bubbly and Irn-Bru. A member of the UK Romantic Novelists' Association, she was delighted in 2020 to accept a two-book deal with Harlequin after submitting her story to the Warriors Wanted submission blitz for Viking, Medieval, and Highlander romances.
Writing
for Harlequin Historical is a dream come true for her and she hopes you enjoy
her books!
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Media Links –
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