The Damsel's Defiance. Meriel Fuller

      A thrill ripped through her stomach and chest, forcing all conscious thought to a liquid bolt that shot through her veins

      Talvas! He stood with his back to her, dragging his soggy tunic over his head, followed swiftly by his undershirt. He began to dry himself with the rough linen square that Geoffrey held out to him. Emmeline watched, transfixed by the beautiful physique before her. Fully clothed, Talvas made an imposing figure, but stripped to the waist in her friend’s kitchen he was devastating! She traced the strong, indented column of his spine, banded on either side by well-honed plates of muscle: evidence of hard, physical labor. There was nothing soft about him, no inch of spare flesh. Emmeline’s eyes ran down his spine until she reached the point where his damp skin, gleaming in the firelight, indented and met the top of his braies.

      She pushed her face into her hands, as if by trying to obscure the vision before her she could stamp out her reaction, scrub out these unwanted feelings!

      

      The Damsel’s Defiance

      Harlequin^®Historical

      Author Note

      The inspiration for my story of Talvas and Emmeline originated from reading about a period in English history known as The Anarchy: a grueling civil war in the middle of the twelfth century between the empress Maud, daughter of King Henry I, and Stephen, her cousin.

      Promised the English throne by her father, Maud was beaten to it by Stephen. History cites that Maud, who lived with her second husband in France, traveled to England some four years after Stephen became king. However, having researched her character, I like to think that she would have been more impatient to seize the throne as soon as her father died, and this gave me the background for my story.

      In medieval times it was not unusual for widows to continue their husbands’ businesses, and here my character Emmeline fits in perfectly. Strong-willed and fiercely independent, she is determined to claw back her dead father’s business, effectively ruined by her husband.

      Talvas also does not choose the conventional path. Despite being raised by noble parents, and trained in the chivalric ways of a knight, he prefers the wildness and unpredictability of the sea to a more sedate life as lord of the manor. Reckless and a risk-taker, he finds a life onboard a ship suits him perfectly.

      MERIEL FULLER

      The Damsel’s Defiance

      Available from Harlequin^®Historical and MERIEL FULLER

      Conquest Bride #782

      The Damsel’s Defiance #264

      MERIEL FULLER

      lives in a quiet corner of rural Devon, England, with her husband and two children. Her early career was in advertising, with a bit of creative writing on the side. Now, with a family to look after, writing has become her passion. A keen interest in literature, the arts and history, particularly the early medieval period, makes writing historical novels a pleasure for Meriel. The Devon countryside, a landscape rich in medieval sites, holds many clues to the past and has made her research a special treat.

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      Contents

      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

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter One

      Barfleur, France—AD 1135

      Emmeline pulled her thick woollen mantle more closely about her slim frame, shivering, checking that the voluminous hood covered her head adequately. Her mother had clucked her tongue disapprovingly at her daughter’s shimmering unbound hair, muttering something about the ‘whores of the dockside’ as Emmeline left the cottage. But Emmeline had not the time to care for such vanity, although she wished she had found the time to slip on an extra woollen chemise. She had to see whether La Belle Saumur had finally made it across the Channel.

      The north-east wind coming in from the sea and up the mouth of the river to where she stood on the wooden revetment whistled under her hem-line and cut into her bones, causing her weak ankle to ache with more persistence than usual. She paid it little heed as she focused on her father’s ship. Her ship. La Belle Saumur lay some distance out to sea, beyond the point where the beacon stood marking the entrance to the river channel. Dieu merci! God had decided to spare her after all. A huge sense of relief burst through her: the ship represented her family’s livelihood, a means by which to stay