Warrior Of Fire. Michelle Willingham
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Warriors of Ireland
Fighting for honour and for love
In this powerful new duet by Michelle Willingham step back in time to medieval Ireland, where proud men were willing to die for honour and for the ones they loved—although not without a fight!
Fans of The MacEgan Brothers mini-series will meet some familiar faces along the way, but prepare to have your hearts captured by two new fierce warriors!
Meet Killian MacDubh in
Warrior of Ice
And meet Raine de Garenne in
Warrior of Fire
Both stories available now!
Warrior of Fire continues the Beauty and the Beast theme, with a beautiful woman seeking shelter in a ruined abbey. Carice Faoilin is dying, but she will stop at nothing to break free of an unwanted marriage—even if it means striking a bargain with a Norman beast.
Raine de Garenne is a haunted man, tormented by his past … and yet Carice awakens a burning desire that sears him to the bone.
I hope you’ll enjoy this forbidden love story between a woman craving freedom and a man forced to betray her. Also look for the first book in this mini-series, Warrior of Ice, which tells the story of Lady Taryn and Killian MacDubh, Carice’s ‘adopted’ brother.
If you’d like me to email you when I have a new book out, please visit my website at michellewillingham.com to sign up for my newsletter. You can also learn more about my other historical romances and see photos of my trips to Ireland.
Warrior of Fire
Michelle Willingham
RITA® Award finalist MICHELLE WILLINGHAM has written over twenty historical romances, novellas and short stories. Currently she lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. When she’s not writing Michelle enjoys reading, baking and avoiding exercise at all costs. Visit her website at: michellewillingham.com
For Lori Yankoski, with thanks for being a good friend and for sharing the gift of your music.
Contents
Ireland, 1172
Carice Faoilin was not afraid to die.
She had been sick for so long, she didn’t know how it felt to be an ordinary woman any more. She didn’t remember what it was to awaken without pain, to walk in the sunlight and enjoy each day as it was given. Most days, she stared at the walls, confined to her bed because she was too weak to move.
Until now.
In a matter of days, soldiers had invaded her home, demanding that she fulfil her delayed betrothal contract. She was ordered to accompany them to wed the High King of Éireann, Rory Ó Connor. The Ard-Righ had a brutal reputation, and few women wanted to wed him, herself included.
Perhaps she should have gone meekly, obeying the High King’s orders as a woman should. But then, Carice had never been the obedient sort. She wouldn’t have agreed to the betrothal, had her ambitious father given her a choice.
She was not going to lie back and offer herself up as the sacrificial lamb—even if this escape attempt killed her. And it very well might.
Each footstep felt leaden as she struggled to disappear into the dark forest. She’d chosen a long branch to use as a walking stick while she made her escape. A small voice inside her warned her, You don’t have the strength to reach shelter. You’re going to die tonight.
She silenced the voice. She had lived with the prospect of dying for so long, what did it matter any more? Worrying about it wouldn’t change anything. Instead, she preferred to fight for every breath, living each day as if it were her last.
Although today might be her last day if she didn’t find shelter soon.
With every step she took, the air seemed to grow colder. There was snow upon the breath of the wind, and Carice huddled within her cloak, leaning heavily upon the staff. Her feet were half-frozen, and her fingers were numb. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking, but she prayed to find a warm place to sleep. Please let there be shelter somewhere close by.
Her prayer was answered when she reached the far side of the forest and ventured into an open field. Just near the horizon, the moon illuminated a fortress with a tall limestone wall surrounding it.
When she drew closer, she realised it was an abbey, not a fortress. Never had she visited this place, though it was only a few days’ journey