A Warrior's Honor. Margaret Moore
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“It is my curse, to speak without thinking. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Copyright
“It is my curse, to speak without thinking.
“Please, forgive me.”
She gave him a smile that was both bitter and rueful. “If I had thought before speaking, too, and behaved as you yourself told me I should,” she said, “I would not be in this predicament.”
He regarded her quizzically. “Predicament?”
She nodded her head. “I fear Lord Cynvelin acted with undue haste.”
“What are you saying?” he whispered, scarcely daring to believe what her words seemed to be indicating.
“I am saying that there has been a mistake.”
She looked so sorrowful and distressed, he wanted to comfort her. “If you do not wish to stay...”
“I don’t.”
“You should ask Lord Cynvelin to escort you.”
“I have and he will not.... Would you help me?” she asked softly, a pleading look in her eyes.
A trusting look. A look that made him feel an honorable man again.
Dear Reader,
Next month, Harlequin Historicals® turns ten years old! But we have such a terrific lineup this month, we thought we’d start celebrating early. To begin, the ever-popular Margaret Moore returns with her fifteenth book, A Warrior’s Honor, the next Medieval in her WARRIOR SERIES. Dubbed a “master storyteller” by Affaire de Coeur, the versatile Moore brings us the sensational story of a knight who is tricked by a fellow nobleman into abducting a beautiful lady, but, guided by honor—and love—seeks to rescue her from the evil clutches of his former friend.
And in a rescue of a different sort, a rancher turned fugitive inadvertently becomes a bodyguard to the very visible Duchess of Malvem in The Duchess and the Desperado, a dynamite Western by award-winning author Laurie Grant. A beautiful young woman on a quest for vengeance unwittingly falls in love with the man she thinks may have harmed her sister in The Shadowed Heart by Nina Beaumont.
And don’t miss Susan Mallery’s latest historical, Wild West Wife, the final book in the MONTANA MAVERICKS: RETURN TO WHTTEHORN series. This is the story of the very first Kincaid, who kidnaps his enemy’s mail-order bride to get revenge but instead falls for his beautiful captive!
Whatever your tastes in reading, you’ll be sure to find a romantic journey back to the past between the covers of a Harlequin Historical®.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
A Warrior’s Honor
Margaret Moore
MARGARET MOORE
confesses that her first “crush” was Errol Flynn. The second was “Mr. Spock.” She thinks that explains why her heroes tend to be either charming rogues or lean, inscrutable tough guys.
Margaret lives in Scarborough, Ontario, with her husband, two children and two cats. She used to sew and read for reasons other than research.
To Geoffrey Clayton, Ph.D,
coauthor of “Starburst-Like Dust Extinction in the Small Magellanic Cloud” and “Ultraviolet Observations of the Hot R Coronae Borealis Type Star, V348 Sagittarii, During a Deep Minimum,” among others; and a friend who reads my books.
Chapter One
England, 1228
Bryce Frechette leaned back against the stone wall, a small, indulgent smile on his face as he watched the boisterous company enjoying the festivities after Lord Melevoir’s tournament.
Their host was a genial man who believed in fine food and wine, good sport and loud music. His hall, while not as large as Bryce’s father’s had been, evinced the Norman nobleman’s appreciation for the luxuries a wealthy life afforded. A blazing fire in the hearth dispelled the chill of the spring evening, and fine beeswax candles in a number of holders brightened the room, as did torches in sconces upon the walls.
After an excellent and bountiful meal, the long trestle tables had been taken down and now leaned against the thick stone walls, with the benches in front for those not dancing. Well-fed hounds prowled among the rushes, looking for scraps and somehow managing to avoid getting in the way of the energetic dancers, who whirled past like so many colorful children’s tops in the center of the floor.
Bryce reflected it was a wonder some didn’t fall and break their heads, especially the ones who were obviously drunk. As it was, the laughing and talking of the lords and ladies nearly drowned out the music of harp, tabor and drum.
His