The Knight's Broken Promise. Nicole Locke
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‘Artless and bootless.’ She angrily picked up each branch and leaf and tucked them into the crook of her arm. ‘That’s what you are. In more ways than one.’
She slid backwards until the slope became flat and then she whirled around. Robert stood a hand’s breadth from her. Startled, she stumbled, branches flew, and her body slid against his.
Her world was instantly, aggressively, the smell of hot male and cedar and the feel of sweat-covered skin. Her fingers clawed down the shoulder muscles she’d stared at all day. Her breasts burned…her legs tangled. She teetered and pressed harder for support.
Robert inhaled sharply, as if he’d been dropped into an icy lake. He ripped himself away.
There are times in your life when you think you’re going to have one experience and you have a completely different one. This is what happened to me when I toured castles in Wales.
Now, I knew I’d be excited and awed, and that my imagination would run wild. They are castles, after all. What I didn’t plan on was the unerring sense of story, of the people who lived during that time. I didn’t have to close my eyes and pretend, and I didn’t have to squint to force my eyes to see. They were all simply there.
Robert, an English knight, was there. Hunched and grieving under a tree. His broad back and bared arms were a testament to the times and to his training—and to a man used to war. But his grief came from something else…from loss, from hope forsaken.
I could do nothing for him. But I knew he couldn’t stay where he was and I knew there had to be someone for him.
And there is someone…in Scotland…in 1296…on the cusp of the greatest conflict. But Gaira of Clan Colquhoun laughs at conflict—in fact she curses at it all the time. And when she meets Robert she curses at him, too.
The Knight’s Broken Promise
Nicole Locke
NICOLE LOCKE discovered her first romance novels in her grandmother’s closet, where they were secretly hidden. Convinced that books hidden must be better than those that weren’t, Nicole greedily read them. It was only natural for her to start writing them (but now not so secretly). She lives in London with her two children and her husband—her happily-ever-after.
To Mom.
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