The Roul brothers are King David’s Warrior Wolves –
each finds their (true love/mate) with a little push from the king…
The Warrior’s Bride Alliance
Warrior Wolves #3
by Denise Lynn
Genre: Medieval Historical Romance
Denise Lynn returns to Harlequin Historical with an explosive medieval marriage-of-convenience story!
She needs a husband…
So she captures one!
Lady Gillian of Rockskill desperately needs a husband—one strong and wealthy enough to protect her castle. So she has warrior Rory of Roul captured and blackmails him into marrying her!
Awaking in a dungeon to a marriage proposal, Rory stuns his beguiling captor with a counteroffer: to free his men and complete his mission for the king, he agrees to a temporary chaste marriage. One that can be annulled when his quest is over.
But despite their stormy beginning, their attraction grows, and so does the temptation to claim their wedding night!
From Harlequin Historical: Your romantic escape to the past.
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Chapter One
Rockskill Keep, Scotland—spring 1146
‘I have need of a husband.’
Rory of Roul shook his head to clear the thick fog muddling his mind and making his head pound. Where was he? He tried desperately to dredge up his last memory, but failed. Was it fog clouding his memory, or was it smoke from the fires set after the battle to lay waste to the land? Land now covered by dead bodies. Bodies not of men, but of smooth-faced boys who’d only recently sparred with wooden swords in mock battles. His stomach rolled at the horrors he’d committed.
No. The battle was over. Without his liege’s permission or knowledge, he’d gathered his men and left. He was no longer in Normandy. He’d run like a traitorous dog with his tail between his legs back to King David begging for a mission—a wolf’s mission—any mission.
He shook his head again. Slowly clearing the murkiness of his mind. He and two of his men had been heading for Rockskill Keep on the King’s orders. Rory jerked his head back, only to wince at the contact with the stone wall behind him. She needed a what?
The bite of iron manacles securing his wrists and ankles to the cold wall at his naked back kept him from laughing at her statement. Why was there a woman on the battlefield? He blinked, then stared at the woman standing before him, not on a field of battle, but in a dimly lit cell, and asked, ‘Where are my men?’
‘They are secure.’
‘Secure?’
‘In a better state than you.’ She shrugged, adding, ‘For now.’
She stepped closer. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. ‘You worry about your men for naught. You should be concerned for your own well-being.’
He snorted. His well-being had been forfeited the moment he’d deserted his post and walked off the battlefield. The penalty for desertion—treason—would be death. The best he could hope for was that his liege the Count of Roul—his brother Elrik—would use a sharp blade and make it a quick, clean end. ‘Where am I?’
‘Rockskill Keep.’
At least he’d arrived at the location of his mission for King David. ‘I demand an audience with the Lord of this Keep.’
‘That would be impossible, as he is dead.’
A piece of information King David either didn’t know or had forgot to mention when he sent him here to bring the shipwrecks, smuggling, murders and other happenings at Rockskill to heel. ‘Then who is in charge here?’
‘I am.’
‘And you are?’
‘The Lady of Rockskill.’
Rory wrenched hard against the restraints, angry at the knowledge that he was at this vixen’s mercy. He pulled harder on the chains, his chest nearly hitting her nose.
She didn’t move, didn’t as much as flinch, simply looked up at him, warning, ‘If you harm me, you will die. But if you hurt yourself, I will send in the midwife. Trust me when I say you will not like her attention. She enjoys making her charges cry.’
He ignored her threat to send a woman’s healer instead of a surgeon to attend him. The slanted tilt of her lips and arching of her brows let him know she’d insulted him on purpose. And while he highly doubted a woman could make him cry, he was in no position to test that theory.
She reached out, stopping just before her palm touched his chest. Her hand was so close that a breeze would not have passed between them. He looked down, wondering if her touch would burn, and suddenly was grateful that he only lacked clothing from the waist up.
The woman paused, frowning. As if uncertain of her next move. Rory lifted a brow. If he didn’t know better, he would guess this woman had never been alone with a man before. Yet she had just claimed her husband had died.
He watched the play of emotions cross her face as she stared at his chest, as if the sight was unfamiliar. Her curiosity while studying his shoulders, chest, then stomach blinked to hesitancy before she quickly flashed her gaze back up. But the raising of her finely arched brows and the slight widening of those blue eyes silently spoke of interest.
She jerked her hand away, produced a dagger from behind her back and held the tip towards the tie of his braies. ‘It would be an easy thing to strip you completely. Perhaps I should see if the rest of you will suffice as husband material.’
Was she that witless, or truly that bold?
Rory doubted if she’d be bold enough to do so, but he had no desire to discover the answer, at least not while chained to a wall. ‘Do you know who I am?’
She tucked the dagger back behind her. ‘You are Rory of Roul, the youngest of King David’s wolves.’
She knew who he was and yet still saw fit to capture him? He frowned, unable to remember how this had happened.
The Warrior’s Runaway Wife
Warrior Wolves #2
The notorious Lord of Roul…
…must take her as his bride!
Lady Avelyn flees an unwanted betrothal to an elderly warlord only to be hunted down and returned to King David’s court by fearsome Elrik, Lord of Roul, a legendary warrior with a heart of ice—and a kiss of fire. And now Avelyn is bound to Elrik—and his bed—when Elrik is commanded to wed her instead!
“Another sensual, action packed tale” — RT Book Reviews on At the Warrior’s Mercy
“Lynn has real talent” — RT Book Reviews on Dragon’s Promise
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Prologue
Carlisle Castle—April 1145
The large double doors of the Great Hall groaned open, slowing the fever-pitched conversations to a hushed whispering. Lord Elrik of Roul strode through the open doors, bringing even the whispers to a complete halt.
Rain from the spring storm fell in rivulets from the wolf pelts trimming his full-length mantle. The cape swirled, sending droplets of rainwater to the floor in his wake.
Men and women alike made way, clearing the path ahead of his long strides. The clinking of his linked-mail hauberk and spurs, along with the heavy fall of his footsteps, were the only sounds echoing in the hall.
The visitors to King David’s court stared in fascination at the sight of the fabled man before them. Some were young enough to have grown up hearing stories of the King’s Wolves. They’d trembled at the tales told in the dark of night, wondering how much truth lay behind the words, yet not wanting to discover the answer for themselves.
From the unkempt, overlong hair, black as night and shot through with silver, to his frowning countenance, the furrowed brow resembling a dark outcrop over his greenish-gold eyes, to the beard covering his lower face, hiding his features, leaving only the thin line of his tightly held mouth visible, made them wonder if he was indeed part-wolf. A barely civilised, not quite human warrior who would think nothing of unleashing the terrors of hell on an unsuspecting prey.
Elrik dropped to a knee at the bottom of the raised dais and bowed his head. He knew what these people thought of him, these weak-kneed courtiers who had rarely, if ever, used the sword belted to their side for anything more than show, and he cared not. As the Lord of Roul, he did what he needed to do to keep his lands and his family safe.
Being one of David’s Wolves wasn’t easy, but then he’d never been blessed with a life of ease, so why would this be any different? The one saving grace was that his three brothers made up the rest of his wolf pack and he could trust them with his life.
King David stood. ‘Roul, join me.’
Elrik rose and followed the King into the smaller chamber beyond the dais. Once the door closed behind the two of them they were afforded a privacy not available in the Great Hall.
‘Thank you for coming so quickly.’ David poured two goblets of deep red wine and offered one to Elrik, before settling into a chair.
He accepted the liquid, hoping it would thaw his blood. ‘My liege?’
‘I apologise for taking you from the comfort of your fires, but I’ve a need for your particular skill.’
‘Who do you need found?’ He’d been born with an uncanny ability to track down things lost, whether it be a missing shoe or a person not wishing to be found.
‘Avelyn of Brandr.’
Elrik paused before swallowing his wine. In the space of one heartbeat, it all came flooding back. His father had sought to commit treason against King David at the prompting of Galdon, Lord of Brandr Isle. Brandr, named so because of the long, sharp, pointed rocks that stuck out from the northern end of the isle like ready swords, drawn for attack, wasn’t enough land for Galdon. Whether the traitor had acted of his own accord or at the behest of his uncle by marriage and liege, Lord Somerled, the Lord of Argyll, or his maternal grandfather Óláfr, the King of the Isles, was never discovered since Brandr had used his connections to escape punishment. Unlike Elrik’s father.
To save his father’s life, he and his younger brother Gregor had thrown themselves at King David’s feet, begging for mercy. Their plea had been heard and mercy granted—at the cost of nothing more than their souls.
While their father had been confined to Roul Isle, he and Gregor, along with their two younger brothers, when they’d become old enough, had become King David’s Wolves. Men tasked with deeds that required secrecy and, at times, the steadfast ruthlessness of a wolf.
He swallowed, then said, ‘I wasn’t aware Brandr had a daughter.’
‘A natural-born daughter.’
At the Warrior’s Mercy
Warrior Wolves #1
In twelfth-century Scotland, a woman is trapped into marriage with a warrior—by order of the king!
Deceived and alone, Beatrice of Warehaven is forced to flee—straight into the powerful arms of feared warrior Gregor of Roul. He escorts her home, though not before a kiss ignites true passion between them.
If Gregor is to gain his freedom, he must obey one last royal order—overthrow Warehaven and marry Beatrice. His betrayal will earn Beatrice’s hatred, but Gregor is prepared to go into battle with this stubborn beauty—and finish what he started with his innocent bride!
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Prologue
Carlisle Castle—May 1145
‘It has come to our attention that Warehaven has been left too long without a lord.’
Gregor, second son of Roul Isle’s former lord, held the questions hopping around on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he focused on the sound of workers fortifying Carlisle Castle, making it bigger and stronger. Hopefully, sooner or later, King David would get to the point of this discussion before the ceaseless drone of construction drove him mad with impatience—Gregor had been too long away from his own building project, and the sounds of hammering and sawing made his hands itch to wield an adze or axe. Either tool would suit him fine since he’d rather be shaping or cutting lumber than standing here in the King’s court.
King David’s frowning countenance during his prolonged hesitation gave Gregor the sinking feeling that not only would it be a while before he could return to his half-built ship, but that this time he wasn’t going to like the task about to be placed on his shoulders.
Not that his liking would matter in the least. After nearly ten years he was still paying for his father’s sins in attacking the foreigner who had been given control over some mainland property just south of Roul Isle. Gregor failed to understand why his father had never been able to accept the fact that the King’s word was law, or why it mattered who held the mainland property. His father had been lucky to die an old man at home in his own bed instead of in a less pleasant manner for treason.
However, Gregor and his brothers hadn’t been quite as lucky. They’d found themselves paying the price for their father’s actions. Even now, his older brother Elrik, the current Lord of Roul, was off on some secret mission for the King. For the moment both Edan and Rory, his younger brothers, were at home. None of them had a choice in the matter. The alternative had been to hand over Roul Isle and leave Scotland for good. Since the only place they could go would be to Roul Keep, an unknown cousin’s fortress in Normandy, all four had agreed that leaving wasn’t a desirable option and had placed their lives in King David’s hands.
‘It was also brought to our attention that you’ve somehow reached your twenty-eighth year of life without a wife.’ King David paused to stare at him before adding in a less accusing tone, ‘Lad, a wedding ceremony which ends in death does not count as a marriage.’
Again Gregor held his tongue. What could he say? Everyone knew what had happened that day. A marriage arranged by the King had come to a bloody end mere moments after the new bride had discovered to whom she’d been wed.
Gregor had had so many hopes for the marriage. While he’d been warned that it wouldn’t curtail his service for King David, it would have provided him a welcome respite between the tasks. He’d been certain that, given time, he and Sarah would come to care for each other, create a home and a family together. He had envisioned cold winter nights spent in front of the fire, his wife at his side, while their children played at their feet.
He had looked forward to this marriage, never imagining how wrong he’d been. The day had started filled with hope and whispered promises of dreams soon to be fulfilled. It had ended moments after one of the guests had congratulated the Wolf for having snared a mate.
In that single heartbeat, time had slowed and he’d watched as his new bride’s eyes had widened, all colour leaving her face as if she’d been drained of blood. He’d reached for her, his fingertips barely brushing the sleeve of her gown as she’d gasped, turned and then run from the Great Hall.
He’d followed, but had been unable to catch up to her until she’d reached the battlements and climbed up on to a crenel. With her arms outstretched, Sarah stood with her palms flat against a merlon on either side. The wind had whipped the long skirt of her gown, as it had her hair—both billowing around her. She’d looked over her shoulder at him. Fear and dread had shimmered in her stare. A frown of what he liked to think was regret had wrinkled her brow. Perhaps she’d had a second thought as she’d perched so high above the ground. But then, in the next heartbeat, she was gone. Nothing but air filled the space between the merlons.
The accusations had started immediately—the Wolf had pushed his new bride to her death—he’d thrown her from the wall in a fit of rage. At first he’d defended himself and the accusations had tapered off to rumours circling behind his back. But nothing would ever rid him of the memory, or the guilt. As far as he was concerned he was guilty—of not being able to stop her from jumping, of not knowing her well enough to realise what she might do and of being so terrifying to her that she chose death.
Denise Lynn lives in NW Ohio with her husband, son and slew of 4-legged “kids”. She has been an avid reader of romance novels for many years, travelling to lands and times filled with brave knights, courageous ladies and never-ending love between the pages of those wonderful books. She writes medieval romances set in England, Ireland, Normandy, France and a few fictitious islands in the waters surrounding Great Britain. When Denise isn’t writing, she can be found hiking, baking, sitting in front of a sewing machine, or snipping herbs for various edible and not-so-edible recipes.
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I enjoy historical romance. This sounds really good. Thanks for sharing.
What great covers – like them all…
Looks like a good read
Looks a good read
The last story is very plausible- arranged marriages during this time period often meant a death sentence for the bride, since nearly a third died in childbirth- thus dowries were essential, if only to give the poor women a few shreds of dignity and promised provisions for any children who survived.
Sw
Very sweet cover.
This has a very attractive cover. Love this time period
Sounds like an interesting romance.
This sounds like a great Medieval Historical Romance read. I like the cover.
Love a good medieval read; I hope to get a chance to read it 🙂
A Medieval Historical Romance sounds perfect for me and I am checking it out on Amazon next! I love the cool cover so much! Thanks for the wonderful opportunity and for introducing me to this fabulous new read!
I look forward to reading.
Love the covers.
This so sounds like my kind of book and one that will keep me interested for sure.
Hi all! Thanks for stopping by the tour. I do agree with those that mentioned the covers — Harlequin’s art department does a pretty decent job on them. They nailed Elrik’s cover perfectly. Gregor…not so much, but it works. I like Rory’s cover and I’m dying to see the last brother’s cover, but I just finished the story and don’t even have a release date yet, so it’ll be a while before I get to see what they come up with for Edan.
very nice cover
I really like the excerpts and the covers. I’m looking forward to reading these.
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Looks like a interesting read
Nice cover
This sounds like an interesting book and I also like the cover.
I enjoyed the excerpts. Thank you for the giveaway!
The premise is really good.
I like the book details.
cool
It sounds like a really interesting book. Thank you for sharing.
I love how she captures a husband for herself! Usually the man does this in a story.
Per legend, Robert the Bruce’s mother held his father hostage until he married her. True or not I have no clue, but that little teaser was the idea for “The Warrior’s Bride Alliance”.
I am all ready to read this romance series!
Thank you for sharing it.
Unusual medieval man to agree to a chaste marriage, and wouldn’t a handfast marriage work, since this is set in Scotland?
Rory was certain he was going to die for committing treason and didn’t want to leave a child behind to bear the sins of his/her father – like he did for his father’s act of treason. King David I was more Norman than anything else, his men would have followed his lead. Rory’s oldest brother was a Norman lord serving the Empress Matilda and Geoffrey. I tossed back and forth on it and decided Rory would have gone with a typical Norman type marriage so his wife would have the proof she needed to avoid her cousin’s clutches.
Sounds good.
Like the sound of those
Hope its a great read!
Sounds like a great read.
The excerpts are interesting. Thank you for sharing them.
sounds interesting
Looks like a very interesting read! The details make me want it to be my next read. No questions for the author.
The cover artwork is beautiful.
It looks like a good read.
I like book details
Do you have any advice for new writers?
Just keep writing. Don’t worry about is this or that right. Just put the words on paper. You can’t fix what isn’t there. And read, read, read. Was listening to Ken Follett the other day and I liked his take — 1000 people may have the same story as you, the difference between them and you is that you wrote it. So, write it.
I like the cover! It sets the stage for the book!