margaretmoore.com

Home

What's
New
MM's
Blog
MM's
Books
Meet
MM
MM's
Workshops
Site
Map
Upcoming
Books
More
about MM
Excerpts
An Abridged Excerpt From

A WARRIOR'S HONOR

A man seemed to be rummaging among the goods on the back of one of the wagons, yet it was too late and too dark for any of the castle servants to be preparing for a journey.

"You there! What are you doing?" Rhiannon called out, prepared to summon the guards if need be.

She realized the man had shoulder-length hair only a moment before Bryce Frechette turned to face her. "I am looking for my baggage. I was told one of the servants put it here by mistake."

He stood as if he were in a relaxed battle stance. She knew of only one other man who stood that way when not actually engaged in combat. Urien Fitzroy, a friend of her father's, was credited with being the finest trainer of fighting men in England.

Bryce Frechette was a most imposing warrior, too, and yet, now that she was close to him, she did not find him frightening. She found him rather intriguing and wished she could see his face more clearly, particularly his shadowed eyes.

"Did you think I was trying to steal something?" he charged.

She straightened her shoulders defensively. "You must appreciate that your activity did look questionable."

"Especially when I am not a nobleman?" he queried with an undercurrent of hostility.

"If you are no longer a nobleman, you have only yourself to blame, Bryce Frechette."

"I am honored to think you know my name, Lady Rhiannon," he replied sarcastically, and with a mockery of a bow.

He was pleased to see her surprise that he knew her name, too, and some of the haughtiness fled her face. "Obviously I know more than just your name."

"Perhaps you do not know as much as you think you do, my lady," he said quietly, stepping closer.

He noted that she didn't move away and remembered how she had behind in the hall. Perhaps she was not nearly as virtuous as she seemed. "Would you care to learn more?"

"This is hardly the time or place for such a conversation."

"That is a great pity," he replied, his deep voice seductively low. "I would like to know more about you."

"Please don't look at me in that impertinent manner, sir!" she said, her whole body warming as he continued to regard her steadily.

"I do not mean to be rude. Far from it." He took another step closer and smiled. "From the way you were acting in the hall, I thought you enjoyed being the object of men's admiration."

"I have no wish to be noticed by a man who would abandon his family and leave his sister in such a perilous situation."

His brows lowered ominously. "I thought you had more intelligence than to believe rumors and gossip."

"So you did not quarrel with your father and stayed away even when he lay dying? Are you telling me that contrary to everything I have heard, you returned to help your sister who had to become a servant in her own castle?"

"Have you not heard more?" he charged. "That my sister cast me out? That I lie and cheat and steal? That I have sold my soul to the devil? Have you so little sense that you will believe everything you hear?"

"How dare you?" she cried, shocked by his criticism.

"No, my lady, how dare you?" he demanded. "You know me not, yet you dare to chastise me. You do not know why my father and I quarreled. You do not know why I stayed away or how I felt when I learned what had happened." His voice dropped. "You do not know how I suffered knowing I was not with Gabriella when she needed me most."

Rhiannon flushed with guilt when she heard the remorse in his voice.

He came closer, so that his body was within a hair's breadth of hers, and when he spoke again, his voice was a husky growl. "How dare you stand there looking as desirable as any woman I have ever seen, yet if I were to so much as touch you, you would probably call out the guard."

"I wouldn't," she said softly.

"You would not do that, my lady?" he whispered.

He reached out and ran his hand up her arm, sending tremors of excitement through her. "I am glad to hear it."

She knew she should pull away, and yet the moment his mouth touched hers, kissing him felt absolutely, perfectly right.


This is the eighth book in Margaret's Warrior Series.

However, Margaret always writes each book to "stand alone" so if you haven't read any of the previous books in the series, you shouldn't feel lost.


Buy Now!
Harlequin
Kindle
Privacy Policy
Cover Copyright © 1998 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Text Copyright © 1998 by Margaret Wilkins
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved. ® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Enterprises Limited and/or its affiliated companies, used under license.