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Excerpt
The Princess And The Marquess
By Aliyah Burke
Chapter One
Somewhere west of the
Rockies, 1820
Ciara Malika McKay swore to herself as she fought
and strained against the winds whipping through the mountains. With
every struggling step forward, the winds knocked her back at least
five. It was hard to catch her breath. At least it isn’t snowing
yet. Regardless of that fact, it was still miserable out.
Ciara hoped the woodland animals she’d befriended found shelter.
She cursed again as the wind blew
off her hood. Ciara jerked it back up, squinting through rain that
pelted everything with a never-ending force. The inky blackness of
night made it impossible to see far. Her calculations said she might
not be far from her small cabin, but a wrong direction now could be
fatal. The vital herbs she set out to get were safely strapped at
her waist. She’d been taught the importance of having them on hand.
During the cold winter months, it was better to have an excess of
medicinal herbs than need them and not have them. Unfortunately, it
had taken her longer than expected to find and collect them.
The mud quickly reached her knees, sucked hard at
her legs, making movement almost impossible. She growled to herself
and knew anyone in her shape would find the going difficult now. A
shape materialized through the driving downpour. Despite her current
situation, she smiled at her friend, Faolan.
A large wolf, Faolan’s coat was blacker than the
darkest night. He was her friend, almost like a dog. She had saved
him from a trap when he was a pup, a little over five years ago, and
he just never left. To anyone else he remained the dangerous killer
his species was erroneously rumored to be.
He stood before her, close enough so Ciara could
see the glow of his amber eyes. The wolf turned and moved forward a
little then looked back at her. She followed as best she could,
content in the knowledge he would lead her safely through the night.
Why isn’t he sinking in this mud? Ciara
groaned with relief when she saw her cabin outlined in the flashes
of lightning. Now back on semi-solid ground, and with a renewed
energy, she hastened her step.
A push opened the door, and she stood dripping on
her wooden floor. Faolan streaked past to shake dry and lay by the
stove. Taking off her sodden cloak, she shivered and took Faolan’s
hint as she started a fire. The dry sticks and small wood she kept
inside crackled to life. The flames added some light as Ciara lit a
tallow lamp. When the room felt warm, she quickly stripped and put
on some dry clothes. Then turning her attention to the herbs she had
gathered, she laid them out to dry as well.
Warm, dry and safe from the storm, that seemed to
have worsened if that was at all possible, Ciara set to her next
task. Food. A simple meal of soup and bread satisfied her hunger.
She could have died out there, she admitted if
only to herself. And who would have found her, who would have cared?
Instinctively she touched Faolan on the head, grateful for his
companionship. Ciara kept to herself, since her parents had died ten
years earlier one warm summer night. She had no wish to get close to
anyone. But she did miss having someone to care whether she came
home safe or who might even shed a tear at her burial.
The product of a fierce love between a migrating
Irishman and a black slave woman, Ciara could take care of herself.
Born in these mountains, she belonged to them. Since the age of
fourteen, everything she’d learned from her parents she put into
practice, surviving out here alone—for that’s what she was. Totally
alone. What use was speaking English, Irish and African with no one
else to speak to? But the hunting, carving and herbal healing skills
she would be eternally grateful for.
No use thinking about how things used to be when
her parents were alive. No point thinking how things might be with
someone to share her life. She chose to be alone, having declined to
move into Paradise Cove after her parents died. She knew she
frightened the members of town. Perhaps it was more that she
confused them, choosing to live how she did as opposed to in town.
But Ciara was confident enough to know she liked it that way; it
ensured she was left alone for the most part.
* * * *
Lucien St. Martin, the eighth Marquess of
Heartstone, smothered a groan. Out the window of the rattling coach
he looked across the endless miles of dust and dirt. This vast
country was definitely not where he had wanted to be. However, his
father had dictated he come here for a horse. So here he was.
Turning to his companion, he asked, “How much longer? I wish to get
out and get cleaned up.”
The man, presented to him as Trent Blake, looked
him directly in the eye “We are almost there. The town will have a
place for you to stay. In the morning, you can speak to the elders
about how to find the horse.”
“Not until morning? I have had enough of this. I
wish to get the horse and leave immediately. I thought this was
understood.”
“With all due respect, sir, we are at the base of
three mountains here in Paradise Cove, and the horse could be on any
one of them. These horses don’t appear out of nowhere. You can’t
just snap your fingers and get whatever you want here. The horse
will be worth the wait.”
Lucien didn’t care for the tone, no respect
whatsoever. “I realize that this is a big place. No doubt filled
with thieves and scoundrels of the worst kind. However, I am the
Marquess of Heartstone…and I have been promised the horse would be
ready for me.”
The carriage jolted to a stop next to an older
building, and Blake jumped down. “This is our land. We don’t have
titles out here. They mean nothing special to us. You’ll get treated
the same way you treat people. As for the promise, you are two weeks
late. The horse was here on time. Now you need to wait. Watch your
attitude, or you’ll get nowhere in this town, my lord.”
Lucien watched
in silence as the rude man disappeared into the dusk then climbed
out of the carriage and managed to keep his temper, despite the
insolence. The purchase of the horse could not fail. His father
would never forgive him, and it did not pay to upset the duke.
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