Lyn Stone - My Lady's Choice

“How are we to manage a marriage between us if we never touch?”

Carefully he moved the wrist he held so that it rested against her own body, near her hip. Then he released her, his fingers unclenching slowly and then closing in upon themselves as his hand retreated.

In a measured tone, his desire now well concealed, he replied, “I shall fulfill the king’s wishes on the matter of the Scots. And I will see to your estates as if they were my own, so long as I remain here.”

“But we are not to cohabit as man and wife, is that what you are saying?”

He nodded once, his hands gripping the chair so tightly, his knuckles turned white. “You wish me to be blunt? Very well, I shall be. You made a bad move wedding a man who wants no wife…!”

Dear Reader,

Spring is in full bloom and marriage is on the minds of many. That’s why we’re celebrating marriage in each of our four outstanding Historicals romances this month!

There is a most unusual arranged marriage in My Lady’s Choice, a new medieval tale by the immensely talented Lyn Stone. This is the story of Sir Richard Strode, King Edward’s best knight, although some of you might remember him as a toddler in The Knight’s Bride. When Lady Sara of Fernstowe miraculously saves Richard’s life, the king grants her a boon. She demands the fierce knight’s hand in marriage…. You won’t want to miss what happens after Richard wakes fully to find that he’s now bound to a—beautiful?—stranger!

Award-winning author Cheryl Reavis brings us an emotional and fulfilling story about a second chance at love and marriage in The Captive Heart, when a British officer’s wife is imprisoned by her own husband, but rescued by a Native American frontiersman. Tanner Stakes His Claim, book two of Carolyn Davidson’s EDGEWOOD, TEXAS miniseries, features a marriage of convenience between a squeaky-clean Texas sheriff and the amnesiac—and pregnant—saloon singer he can’t stop thinking about. Don’t miss this wonderful story!

Rounding out the month is The Bride of Spring, book two of Catherine Archer’s terrific SEASONS’ BRIDES miniseries. Here, a noblewoman desperate to marry to protect her young brother orchestrates her own wedding, unaware that the man she has chosen will be her true love.

Enjoy! And come back again next month for four more choices of the best in historical romance.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farrell,

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Available from Harlequin Historicals and LYN STONE

The Wicked Truth #358

The Arrangement #389

The Wilder Wedding #413

The Knight’s Bride #445

Bride of Trouville #467

* One Christmas Night #487

My Lady’s Choice #511

Other works include:

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Beauty and the Badge #952

To my daughter,

Pamela Stone Clair,

with love.

Thank you for all your encouragement,

ideas, inspiration and, most of all,

for just being my Pam.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Northumberland, 1339

“Our thanks for making his death more comfortable, Lady Sara,” King Edward said softly, his blue eyes already misted with grief. “He looks to be at peace.”

Sara of Fernstowe smiled as she rounded the sickbed with the basin containing the bloody rags and arrowhead.

“Your knight is not dead, sire,” she assured him as she handed off the container to a maidservant and faced her king. “Nor will he die if I can bring him through the fever sure to take hold.”

The handsome blond giant who ruled England abandoned his regal pose beside the bed and leaned over, his ear to the knight’s lips, his large hand upon the uninjured shoulder. “’Tis true, he breathes! How is it that my physician declared this man beyond hope, and you have saved his life?”

Sara liked the king. When denied a thing—such as having his knight’s life spared—however, she imagined Edward III could be as fierce as his grandfather, the famous Longshanks.

She preceded her conjecture with a small laugh. “Mayhap your healer feared your wrath if he did not succeed in his efforts, my liege. You should not blame him. As you must know, few men do survive such a wound.”

She continued, unafraid to state the truth. “There is a chance I, too, shall fail, but I think not. He weathered the cutting out of the point with hardly a grunt of protest. Here is a strong fellow who bears a hurt well. I would say he has borne others in your service, judging by his scars.”

The king straightened. “Ah, you do not know the half, my lady. Twice now Sir Richard has thrown himself betwixt me and disaster. The first time we were lads—I, but a fledgling king, and Richard, only a squire.”

He continued, pride in his knight visible in the rapt expression he wore. It was as though he could see it all again, there in his mind. “Three assassins attacked me in our camp, intent upon my death. When Richard’s overlord fell in the attempt to save me, this one took up the old earl’s sword and slew the two remaining. Nearly died then from a sword cut to his thigh.”

“Ah, a brave deed for a youth. So you took him into your own service then?”

“Fortunately, or I might lie here this very day and you would be tending me in his stead. Richard must have spied that archer poised to shoot and took the arrow meant for me. Then, wounded as he was, he chased the scoundrel down and cut him in half. What think you of that for strength and valor?”

Sara studied the figure lying on her bed. He nigh matched the mattress in length. Had he stood upright, she knew he would rival the king’s great height. If his chest had not that wealth of muscle, the arrow that struck him might have proved fatal, indeed. Aye, he was strong as he was brave.

And handsome. She noted the dark chestnut hair with its faint gleam of red in the candles’ glow. His skin looked smooth and lightly browned by sun. His sensuous lips, slightly opened, revealed white, even teeth and his nose appeared straight and unbroken.

If only she could see his eyes, perhaps she could judge the kind of man he was. Sara found she really wanted to know, and so she asked, “What manner of man is he to withstand such hurts? Fierce? Gruff?”

The king sighed loud and long. “Nay, not Richard. Unless provoked, he tends toward gentleness and good humor. He is honorable to a fault. Son to a good father. Father to a fine son. A husband fiercely loyal to his poor, dead wife. Friend to me and mine. A knight who scorns rewards for his valiant doings.” Sara noticed tears had formed in the king’s eyes.

“Faith, my liege, but that does sound much like a eulogy! Have hope he will survive, for I do!”