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The
Warlord's Woman

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The Warlord's Woman, 2004
New Concepts Publishing
Genre: Medieval Romance IBSN:
1-58608-541-7 Format: Ebook
Driven by duty, ruthlessness and blind loyalty,
Alexander of Kent kidnaps Catherine of Scotland
and weds her for the sole purpose of providing
an heir for his grandfather, Edward the
Longshanks, to control.
Catherine, on the other hand, has other ideas.
Explosive wills clash, setting off a chain
reaction of hot-blooded desire. |
But beyond the glow of their passion, dark shadows loom
with danger, an evil force that threatens to destroy
everything they have come to know and love, including
their very lives.
Reviews

The
Warlord's Woman is an excellent sequel to Desire's
Promise. I really love the way Tracy L. Ranson brought
the characters of Isabeau and Kendrick into this story.
The cruelties Alexander was forced to endure in his
grandfather's court are what made him the man he became,
someone without a heart. When Catherine gets the
opportunity to run away from Alexander when he becomes
sick, she doesn't take it, instead electing to stay and
nurse him back to health. You don't want to miss this
heartwarming medieval story by Tracy L. Ranson!
- Sensual Romance Reviews
Ms. Ranson treats her readers to some delicious court
intrigues not only within Alexander’s household, but
within the Scottish and English courts.
A costumer’s delight unfolds as Ms. Ranson describes
each dress worn by the ladies of the piece and period.
One need only close their eyes to imagine how the richly
colored velvet dresses would feel.
A thoroughly enjoyable read.
- Fallen Angel Reviews
Excerpt

Alexander
flexed his fingers as the creaking grew louder, the
stiff squeak of his leather gloves rising through the
air, his anxiety rising. She would be rounding the bend
any moment with a garrison of troops to see her safely
on her way to Edinburgh. His lips thinned into a half
smirk. If his information were correct, he certainly had
more than enough men to overtake her party without much
of a struggle. Good. The last thing he wanted to do was
to hurt the girl, although she was of the hated Scottish
blood. He merely wanted to be on English soil before the
Scots discovered her capture.
Her wooden carriage emerged from around the corner, led
by four magnificent chestnut stallions. The oak body,
stamped with the crest and motto of the Scottish royal
family, lurched drunkenly between the suspended axles
above the wheels. He could see nothing inside of the
carriage but he knew she was there just the same, almost
as if some inner conscience confirmed it for him.
Her assigned garrison rode behind, led by a small
half-armored knight with his head hooded by a large
cowl. Alexander looked to the small cavalier, noting the
size and girth. How could this woman assign this small
man to head her party? He smirked. More than likely, she
was completely inept when it came to military tactics.
The princess’ party moved forward, the groan of the
wheels mingling with the clop of hooves on the dry
earth. She was slowly coming in range of his grip.
Alexander raised his hand, signaling his men to get
ready. Behind him, he could hear the creak of leather
saddles soft and mellow as the men mounted, their tones
much fainter than Princess Catherine’s party.
He nudged Longworth, gesturing that he wanted to battle
the tiny knight personally. Longworth nodded. His lips
spread further into a smile, tilting his head in
agreement.
Together, they turned their attention to the road ahead.
Princess Catherine was in range within a few feet, her
dark carriage moving slowly. The men of the garrison
were dressed in half armor while the foot soldiers
really had no protection.
He mentally counted the lines, noting there were only a
hundred to his three hundred. This battle would not take
long, he surmised silently.
Without warning, they watched as the small knight,
apparently the leader, moved to the head of the
carriage, halting its progress. The rest of the party
followed in kind to his upraised hand. He cocked his
head as though he listened to the sounds of the forest.
Perfect. Now they were in range of his hand. With a
swift wave of his arm, they mounted their horses in a
fury, the animals' breath dancing in the chilly night
air. Alexander pulled his cowl further forward, hiding
his features. He did not want the girl to recognize him
until the last possible moment.
They melted out of the darkness of the forest as if they
were creatures of the night. Alexander’s heart pounded
out of control as he halted his horse in front of the
small knight’s steed. The rest of his men surrounded the
remaining party, holding all of them at blade point.
"Halt," Alexander commanded, his sword drawn and pointed
at the chest of the head of the garrison.
The tiny knight said nothing as he sat straight in his
saddle, not questioning why Alexander surrounded his
party.
"What is the meaning of this?" questioned a husky female
voice from inside the rickety carriage, echoing through
the hostile air.
Alexander’s hardened stare went to the carriage door and
watched as a nutmeg hued head poked out of the open
window. She turned to look at him, the fear written on
her ugly features. "Are you Princess Catherine of
Scotland?" he demanded, his vision of her crushed. He
had half expected her to be beautiful but she was
nothing of the sort. Even his horse appeared prettier
than she did.
Her plain eyes widened and grew rounder with the each
passing moment. "Aye, that I am. Who are you and what
are you doing?"
His anger flared. "I have come to claim you," he
announced as he shifted in his saddle, his battle
practiced gaze watching every move of her company.
Should any of them make a false move, he would have no
choice but to cut them down.
Her white hands flexed hard on the windowsill. He
smelled her fear, even from the distance. "Who are you
and what do you intend to claim me for?"
"Marriage."
"Marriage?" she laughed nervously. "Marriage to whom?"
Alexander thrust his chest out slightly to show his true
power. "To me."
Her mouth curled into a startled ‘o’ and closed, the
slight lips pulled into a taut line. "Who are you?"
"The Butcher of the Isles, woman."
Catherine’s head slumped as the reality of his identity
sank in, her dark braids thumping lightly against the
wood of the carriage. "I knew this would happen and I
hoped to avoid it by going to Edinburgh but you were too
swift for me," she announced in a defeat-laden voice and
looked to her lead man. "Give him your sword. We must
surrender."
The knight held his gloved hands out in question but she
nodded. He returned the gesture with a small tilt of his
head, withdrawing the sword. Catherine looked to him,
her eyes turning watery with fear. "His sword is yours."
Alexander warily dismounted and closed the distance
between the lead man’s horse and his, all the while his
stare remained on the cavalier. This could be a ruse.
"Give that to me," he snarled, holding his hand out.
The man nodded, turning the hilt around for him to grasp
it. Just as he was about to lay a hand on the hilt,
Alexander felt the hard leather heel of the man’s boot
smash against his lower jaw, driving him to the ground.
Pain radiated up from the area, firing his fury.
"Destroy them all except for the princess!" he ordered,
drawing his sword and rising from the dusty floor of the
forest. "You belong to me bastard!" he shouted, pointing
his blade at the offensive knight. With that, the young
man turned his horse around and attempted to flee but
the horse stumbled and fell, spilling the youth loose on
the ground.
Alexander sensed his opportunity. That boy was going to
pay for what he did.
He charged after the youth, closing in with swift
strides. His quarry stayed in sight weaving in and out
of the trees. Alexander kept close at his heels, almost
like a dog giving chase. Once the boy was in range, he
launched himself on the youth, bringing him to the
ground. Underneath his hands, the boy felt lithe and
slender, almost like a woman would. Small growls echoed
from the knight’s throat, mingling with the horrific
battle sounds a few yards away.
Alexander straddled the youth, holding the boy's back.
"You will pay for that little injury, boy."
With that, he ripped the cowl back and was awestruck by
what he saw, his jaw falling slack. Golden hair, pulled
into a tight braid, flowed down the head and disappeared
beneath the edge of the cloak.
He quickly moved to the side and rolled the boy over,
only it was not a boy. It was a most beautiful girl he
had ever seen. Deep emerald eyes, filled with fear,
stared at him, fanned by a long set of blonde lashes.
High cheekbones etched her face, making a perfect
setting for an expertly sculpted nose. Full, luscious
lips rested underneath, trembling slightly and beading
with slight moisture. "Well, well, what do we have
here?" he remarked in a low tone as lust nipped at his
loins while his gaze traveled up and down her luscious
body. From the way her armor rode away from her chest,
he sensed her breasts were large and no doubt creamy, an
attribute that never escaped his attention.
"None of your concern," she asserted, trying to push
past him and rise. He refused to let her, instead
capturing both slender wrists above her head. She was
far too beautiful not to look at.
"Aye, it is my concern when I capture such a beautiful
woman." She intrigued him, from her soft breath to the
aura of womanhood surrounding her. Since he would rid
himself of Catherine once she bore his child, perhaps
this one could warm his bed very well.
"Let me go," she snapped, her jaw clenched tight.
"No," he informed her as his fingers touched the hard
shelf of her jaw, traveling upwards to caress her
magnificent hair. "You are a most beautiful woman,
vixen. What is your name?"
Her features softened as a smile spread across her lips.
"’Tis a name I am sure you will not forget quickly."
Blood pulsed to his midsection at the sound of her
voice, making the leather of his braes tighter. "What it
is it?"
"This." She drove her knee hard into his groin.
Explosions of pain erupted, making him lose the grip on
her wrists. She pushed past him, bypassing his
outstretched hand. Biting through the pain, he leapt to
his feet and took off after her. His stride was slow
because of his injury but his anger, mingled with the
unrequited lust, energized him nonetheless. The girl had
hurt him twice and he was damned sure he was going to
punish her thoroughly, but not before he tasted a little
of her succulent fruit.
Alexander rounded a tree and discovered her in the arms
of one of his men, quivering and shaking. Her flight
from him was over. "What shall we do with her, my lord?"
He stopped before her, crossing his thick arms over his
chest. They would do nothing with her. She was his.
"That is up to me, now, is it not?"
Copyright
©
2004 All Rights Reserved
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