I thought you'd like to see the brief description of the story and read of Geoff and Emma's ominous first meeting. You can also follow my Pinterest board for Rogue Knight HERE.
York, England 1069… three years after the Norman Conquest
The North of England seethes with discontent under the heavy hand of William the Conqueror, who unleashes his fury on the rebels who would dare defy him. Amidst the devastation, love reluctantly blooms in the heart of a Yorkshire widow for a gallant Norman knight.
Hardened by the cruelty she has witnessed and bound by loyalty to her noble Danish father, a leader of the rebels, Emma of York would never think to want one of the hated Normans. Sir Geoffroi de Tournai, rejected by one English widow, did not want another—until he saw Emma. Soon love blossoms in the Yorkshire summer.
War strikes again, tearing asunder the tentative love growing between them, making each the enemy of the other. Can Sir Geoffroi, convinced Emma has betrayed him, allow the woman he loves to die with the innocents? Or will he defy his king to save her?
The first time they meet... February 1069:
She crossed herself and covered her mouth, fighting the urge to spew at the sight of so much blood and so many bodies strewn about the clearing, blood congealed on their clothing, their vacant eyes staring into space. Some blood had pooled on the ground to catch the rays of the sun. The metallic scent of it, carried by the wind, rose in her nostrils.
At her side, the hound whimpered.
Until the Normans had come, Yorkshire had been a place of gentle hills, forests and thatched cottages circling a glistening jewel of a city set between two winding rivers. A place of children’s voices at play, some of those voices now silenced forever, for among the bodies lying on the cold ground were mere boys, their corpses cast aside like broken playthings.
At the sound of heavy footfalls on the snow-crusted ground, she jerked her head around, her heart pounding in her chest.
A figure emerged from the trees, so close she could have touched him.
She cringed. A Norman.
A tall giant of a knight, his blood-splattered mail a dull gray in the weak winter sun, ripped off his silvered helm and expelled an oath as he surveyed the dozens of dead. The sword in his hand still dripped the blood of those he had slain. He was no youth this one, at least thirty. His fair appearance made her think of Lucifer, the fallen angel of light. A seasoned warrior of death who has taken many lives.
Had he killed people she knew? Her heart raced as fear rose in her chest.
Would she be next?
Copyright © 2015 Regan Walker