A dying man's last wish: Protect Lea. Make her your
Marrying the lovely, sensual Lea will be no hardship for
Alain, newly Earl of St. Vincent. Keeping her safe may be
another matter all together.
For a curse lies upon the St. Vincent lands, and unless
Alain can convince his new bride to trust him, join with
him in the fertility rites of the Winter Solstice, her life
and his lands may be forfeit.
Rumors, of murder and mayhem laid at Alain's feet. Legends,
of giants and piskies and ancient Druids come to life.
Seers and magic and sexual excesses. Thrust from her
sheltered life into the midst of a nightmare, Lea must rely
on her instincts.
Alain's dark passions seduce her heart. She craves his
touch, but it will take more than passion to bring St.
Vincent back from the Dark Side of the Moon.
Book Length: Short Novel
An Excerpt From: Dark Side Of The Moon
© Copyright Ann Jacobs, 2003.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.
Looking at him took her breath away, stole her voice. ‘Twas a smile full of promise. A smile that made Lea want to taste his lips and trace the faint laugh lines around lips that looked incredibly soft and kissable. “I fare well, my lord.” ‘Twas true. As the days had passed, her grief had dulled to resignation…a poignant regret that her sire was no longer there to cosset her. She’d even begun looking to the future with a sense of excitement, an eagerness to see her new home. And she could hardly wait to explore the hot, new sensations that grew stronger in her belly every time Alain touched her, with each smile, each conversation they shared. With every hour they spent together, Lea wanted him more, and worried less about the chilling rumors Richard had whispered at her father’s funeral. From all she’d observed, Alain seemed an honorable lord, well thought of by his knights and men-at-arms, ever courteous and protective of her.
Young and darkly handsome, he possessed a hard, fit body. From the way he sat his warhorse, he’d likely prove a skilled warrior. She counted herself lucky to have drawn him for her husband, especially when his touch or smile set her body to tingling. While she still couldn’t completely banish the nagging worry that at least some of the tales about Alain might be true, her carnal yearnings grew ever stronger, too strong to ignore.
He reined in his warhorse to match the daintier pace of her dappled palfrey, and gestured toward the windswept moor. “Not far from here is Dozmary Pool. Someday I will take you there. Legend has it that the Lady of the Lake reached up from the center of the pool and caught King Arthur’s sword Excalibur.”
“The Lady of the Lake?”
“‘Tis said that like the mermaids in the sea, the Lady lives deep within the pool. That late on moonless nights, she comes up from the water and walks across Bodmin Moor. A Cornish fancy, some say, but many of the old ones swear they’ve seen her.”
At his brooding worst, Alain was the most fascinating man Lea had ever seen, but when he smiled the way he was doing while he spun his fanciful tales, Lea found him irresistible. She caught his gaze, bid him to tell her more.
As he spoke, an angry sea sent waves crashing against the rocky shore. The roar reverberated up the cliffs and drowned out whatever Alain was saying but for a few strange sounding place names like Rough Tor and Brown Willy. Suddenly a fierce wind came off the moor, so strong it made Lea hold onto the pommel of her saddle to keep her seat.
“I’m not quite certain I like the thought of a land full of these legendary creatures of which you boast, my lord.” They moved slowly down a rocky path toward Tintagel.
“Most are harmless. ‘Tis said the piskies and fairies make mischief, yet they watch over us. And the giants—well, they’re naught but a tribe of men, only bigger than most.”
“Bigger than you?” Lea found that hard to believe, for Alain was as tall as any man she’d ever seen, with broad shoulders and chest, and thick, muscular thighs.
Alain laughed. “Some are. You’ll see some when they join us to celebrate the Winter Solstice a few days hence. Look. There is Padstow. We will pass the night there and go on to St. Vincent on the morrow.”