The Seventh Son by Ashley York

I've got a lovely guest here today on Vintage Vonnie. Author Ashley York is a proud life-long New Englander and a hardcore romantic. She has an MA in History which brings with it, through many years of research, a love for primary documents and the smell of musty old libraries. With her author's imagination, she likes to write about people who could have lived alongside those well-known giants from the past.

Her favorite past time? Sessions like the one at McKinnon's Irish Pub every Wednesday night from 7:30 - 10:00 led by the lovely Jeanne Freeman.

Lucky us, she's here to share a bit of her new book that releases March 30th.

Pre-Order Link for The Seventh Son - Amazon



Drogheda, Ireland 1075

The sixth son bears a curse as certain as the seventh son bears a blessing. When Tadhg MacNaughton’s betrothed is ripped from his arms and married to another, he believes the legend is true.

Tisa O'Brien's life slams into a downward spiral at the news she is no longer betrothed to the love of her life but to the tanist of a warring, prideful clan with dangerous political aspirations, the Meic Lochlainn. She faces her destiny with all the strength and dignity of her Irish heritage despite dealing with a husband who resents her and meets his needs in the arms of others, fighting off the lustful advances of her father-in-law, Aodh, and longing for the husband of her heart.

Tadhg MacNaughton makes a deal with the devil to ensure the survival of his clan as he is commanded to fight for Aodh who envisions himself the new High King of Eire. Up close and personal, Tadhg must witness his true love's marriage and remain silent even as it rips him apart. When a sinister plot to overthrow King William of England led by the exiled Leofrid Godwin and Clan Meic Lochlainn comes to light, Tadhg is faced with saving his clan or endangering his sister and her Norman husband.

An Irish beauty and a warrior betrayed, doomed in love from the start or does fate have something else in store for them?

 

      Breandan slept between the fire and the front door, a good distance from where Tisa lay flat on her back beside her husband. She had donned a heavy rail brought to her by Caireann who had spent her afternoon making friends with the villagers. Once Aodh had left, they decided sharing the small pallet was necessary while Malcolm stayed with them. He'd not returned by the time she drifted off to sleep.

       Darragh's quiet voice came to her in the dark. "Tisa? Turn toward me.''

Tisa fought against a heavy sleep and opened her eyes. Caireann's familiar snoring was the only other sound she heard. She turned toward him, unsure if he'd actually spoken.

"Were ye not pleased with me tonight?" he asked.

       Even through a whisper, she heard his smile. He had been quite convincing with Aodh, indeed. "Aye."

He moved his mouth closer to her. "Have I made amends with ye for my anger earlier?"

"Ye have."

"Bestow a kiss upon yer husband." His voice held an urgency. Or was it just louder?

Darragh's hand, heavy on her hip, drew her nearer. When he started to move it as if to caress her, warning bells sounded in her head.

"Do ye need a kiss now?" she asked.

His face was cast in shadow. His white teeth showed clearly in the darkness. "I do."

She leaned over intending a quick kiss on the lips but he snaked his arm around her, pulling her on top of him.

Startled, she made to break the kiss but he held her head in place and devoured her mouth as if he had only one thing on his mind. His fingers ran along her back, slipping beneath her gown with little effort. She shivered. Hot against her cold skin, his hands stroked along her thigh, up and down, until he cupped her bottom. He pressed against her but his earlier condition was no longer evident.

She did not resist. Not his kiss or his caresses. He did not desire her. Even when she'd lain naked beneath him on their wedding night, and him between her legs, his body remained unaffected.

Darragh put his lips to her ear, his voice quiet again. "Are ye afeared of me? Of what I may do to ye?"

"Nae."

       He held her still as he moved his hips against her. Again. And again. "Are ye afeard I may be getting stiff for ye?"

"Ye are not."

"Then kiss me like a lover. Pretend I am the man ye dreamed of."

Before she could react to that telling statement, he covered her mouth with his. How did he know of her dream? Malcolm had known. Why would he tell Darragh? He pulled back to whisper in the small space between them. "Nae, ye need to focus, lovely lady. I will be yer dream lover."

Perhaps she was not yet fully awake. Perhaps she had been affected by Darragh and Breandan but Tisa's dream and her own longing came swiftly back to her. The sounds of the birds. The smell of the grass. The feel of Tadhg beneath her. Darragh's warm tongue invaded her mouth but it was Tadhg and she kissed him back. Their tongues stroking and sparring. The hands tracing her bare thighs were Tadhg's firm hands. Massaging. Caressing. Spreading her legs. Rubbing against her.

She cried out.

Darragh's mouth muffled the single word.

Tadhg.

Her hips pressed against him, her knees on either side as he rocked into her.

"That's it, sweet Tisa. Dunna hold yerself back. Show me yer passion."

Tisa moaned into his mouth. Her hips undulating against him. Coming nearer.

He slipped a finger close to her wetness.

"Do not." Her only coherent thought.

"I can ease yer need," his words whispered into her ear.

And it was a true need. Deep inside. Growing. But she did not want him to touch her. The thought of Tadhg alone being with her, holding her, and her world exploded. She was swept away. Small tremors rippling like waves from the unanswered need at her core. The need only Tadhg could have met. The feelings slipped away like the morning mist, only partly remembered in the bright light of day.

She fell slack against Darragh and the tears came. He cradled her, turning her gently to lie beside him, her head on his chest. He held her tight, muffling her quiet sobs, and caressing her cheek. His breath against her face, he said not a word.

The sound of the curtain dropping worked its way into her thoughts.

Darragh wiped at her tears then caressed her arm with long, soothing strokes. "Wheesht."

She glanced toward the curtain. There was no one there. The sound of the door opening was unmistakable.

"I dunna understand."

"My father will trouble ye no more." Darragh kissed her forehead like a loving father comforting a hurting child. "My wife, ye are a lovely, passionate woman that deserves a man who can love ye back just as deeply. Thank ye for sharing with me what ye feel for this Tadhg. I am sorry I am not he."

His quiet heartbeat beneath her ear soothed her. The fears and frustrations floated away, only the memory of Tadhg's arms surrounding her remained. She drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

Connect with Ashley online at:

Website: www.ashleyyorkauthor.com

Email: ashleyyork1066@gmail.com

Twitter: @ashleyyork1066

 

Ashley York, A Hardcore Romantic

I've got a special guest to share with you today--Amazon Best Selling Author, Ashley York, who pens books and novellas of Medieval Romance and Intrigue.

Aside from two years spent in the wilds of the Colorado mountains, Ashley York is a proud life-long New Englander and a hardcore romantic. She has an MA in History which brings with it, through many years of research, a love for primary documents and the smell of musty old libraries. With her author's imagination, she likes to write about people who could have lived alongside those well-known giants from the past.

Sounds exciting, doesn't it? She has a new novella releasing today and, lucky us, we get to hear about it hot off the ebook presses. Here's her blurb:

Outcast and alone, Thomasina MacDonell is hell bent on finding her brother, the only person who can thwart their father's latest scheme to offer her as payment for his gambling debts. Disguised as a lad, she defiantly sets off on foot to locate him—never expecting to find a handsome, Irish warrior riding her beloved horse. The warrior's offer of help and unsolicited advice on how to be manlier sparks an intimate desire to reveal her more feminine side.

Rejected by the love of his life, Sean O'Cisoghe wants simply to return home and heal his broken heart. When a young "lad" steals the horse out from under him, he discerns the spirited woman may be in way over her head against her ruthless father. Finding her brother while keeping her would-be betrothed at bay, Sean must confront the fact that Thomasina has stolen his heart. Will Norman soldiers out for his blood and shifting clan alliances cut short their growing passion?

 

Sean had expected her to struggle which was why he had her arm tucked between his body and hers, and her other arm held tight to her side. What he had not expected was to be so affected by her. Alarm bells were sending waves of regret—and overwhelming desire—coursing through him. Not one of his finest moments. If she ever settled down, she’d certainly find his arousal as upsetting as her anticipated punishment. He had no plans to actually slap her bottom, he just wanted honest answers. He found a threat worked best.

“So before I land my hand on yer arse since ye’re so deserving—oof.” Her elbow poked into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He pulled her closer in to him and raised his knees to keep her lodged there. “—how about ye try telling me the truth for once and then I can be on my way.”

“Ye whoreson! Who do ye think ye are? Let me go!” She continued her struggles.

Her tempting bottom wiggling from side to side was hard to ignore. He needed to disarm her and quickly. “What? Nae clearing of yer throat to sound like a lad?”

“Let me go.” She pulled her knees in and managed to plow into his groin. The pain excruciating. He reacted with a hard slap to her bottom. She stilled. He held his breath until the sharp pain lessened then yanked her legs out straight.

He adjusted her away from him to ease the pressure on his groin. She didn’t need to know specifically what she had managed to do. “Try that again and I’ll make ye sorry.”

“I’ll make ye sorry!” she hollered back at him.

He didn’t hide the smile. She remained motionless across his lap. Her delightful bottom at his disposal but he refrained from touching her.

“I’m not an idiot. I ken when ye’re lying to me and here I’ve done nothing but try to assist ye.”

“Assist me? Was that when ye insulted me? Told me I was girly?”

“Ye are a girl!”

“And is that what ye wanted me to tell ye?” She rolled back so she could look him in the face. “Is that why ye teased me mercilessly?”

“Nae! I wanted ye to remember to act like a boy, damn it! Ye kept slipping up! How could I take ye to the village with everyone seeing ye for what ye are? They’d have been all over ye like ticks on a dog.”

“Ye bastard!” She started kicking her legs with wild abandon. “Let me go. Let me go.”

With one arm wrapped around her narrow waist, he stood, holding her like a sack of corn. Placing her away from him, he held each arm in a firm grip against her side. She hunched forward, breathing heavy from the exertion. And all he could think about was covering her mouth with his, of tasting her lips, her skin, of running his fingers through her tangled mane. He was near exploding with desire for her.

“Stop this! I deserve to ken the truth.” Sean’s voice sounded strained and he prayed she wouldn’t realize why. “Thomasina!”

It was a beautiful name. It fit her perfectly.

Closing her mouth, Tommy looked to be getting herself under control. Her eyes on him, she shook as if overcome by his audacity. Mayhap he should have taken to paddling her as she so deserved but he feared he’d feel worse than she would. Beating a woman was not in his nature. That one spank had been an unexpected reaction to pain. Slapping her bottom was the farthest thing from what he wanted to do with it.

“Truth!” he groaned aloud. “Put me out of my misery.”

She looked surprised at his outburst then took a shaky breath. “Yea! Ye deserve the truth.”

“And do ye ken the truth?” Sean leveled his gaze. “I dunna need any more pretenses here. Not now.”

Not when his body yearned to be betwixt her legs as he pounded into her, receiving his need, answering with her own passion. She had no idea. She would have no idea. He kept his gaze fixed on her face despite the heaving breasts and the sweat trickling down her neck into places he’d like to follow with his tongue. 

BUY LINK: http://amzn.com/B01593SYQO

Connect with her online at:

 

Website: www.ashleyyorkauthor.com

Email: ashleyyork1066@gmail.com

Twitter: @ashleyyork1066