Author: Olivia
Fields
ISBN: 978-1-62420-119-6
Genre: Historical Romance
Excerpt
Heat Level: 1
Book Heat
Level: 4
TAGLINE
A tomboy captain must guard
a roguish prince during wartime. Can they save their country from invasion
while learning to lead--and falling in love?
BLURB
Tomboy
Alex Bonham has fought her male peers tooth and nail to prove herself worthy to
become captain of the king’s guard. When her country is invaded by Danes, she
is ordered to take the king’s younger son, a charming but irresponsible rake,
away from the front lines for safekeeping.
Alex
walks a difficult line, trying to balance her growing attraction to Prince
Holden with her dedication to duty and her responsibility to keep him safe from
robbers, Danes...and even himself. But when they are drawn into the struggle to
defend East Anglia from occupation, both the prince and his captain must grow. Can
spoiled Prince Holden evolve into a good man who could lead the kingdom--one
Alex can trust with her heart?
EXCERPT
She and the prince were easier with one another
after their day in town. They continued their sparring matches at regular
intervals, varying tandem sword training with hand to hand. The craft of
unarmed combat continued to prove frustrating for the prince, especially when
defending against her attacks.
“Impossible,” Holden lamented one afternoon as she
put him on his face in the dirt for the umpteenth time, effortlessly seating
herself atop his back. “You can’t have done that. Again.”
“I’m not using strength.” She wound up his arm a
bit more to demonstrate. “This is leverage.”
“I concede.” He went limp, and she sat on him for a
moment longer, liking their position rather more than she strictly should. She
made herself move before the moment stretched too long, heaving off him, and
offered him a hand up.
He reached for her, and gave her no warning
whatsoever before yanking hard. Off-balance, she toppled helplessly onto him.
He rolled her under his body, pinning her arms with his hands, his waist
sinking between her thighs.
“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Escape this.”
She clenched her fists in exasperation, trying
breathlessly to ignore the sensation of his body weighing down on her, pushing
her thighs apart and pressing against the center of her. “I haven’t showed you
everything I know. Not yet.”
She bucked her hips up sharply and kicked her heels
against the ground, unseating him. They rolled, trading advantage back and
forth. He couldn’t pin her, but neither could she escape without hurting him.
They thrashed about wildly, kicking up dust, dirt, and bracken as they
struggled. He clutched her tightly against his chest. He was laughing, and she
realized she was too. They abruptly fetched up against one of the log segments
surrounding the fire ring, and she found herself lying on top of him, her face
a few inches from his.
They froze there, and their laughter faded. He did
not try to dislodge her again. His eyes grew warm and deep. He was still
smiling, his lips parted slightly. She lost herself in his gaze, wavering on
the verge of sinking down to taste his mouth.
She felt his hands settling slowly on her waist,
anticipating her kiss. He was smeared with dirt. Bits of dried fern stuck to
the sweat on his face and body, tangled in his untidy hair. He looked so good
he almost seemed edible. Hypnotized, she was tempted to bend her head and lick
a droplet of perspiration right off his cheek.
Carl was watching them, she knew.
“You’re a mess,” she observed, hearing the
breathlessness in her voice. “Get up and wash that dirt off. Carl almost has the
supper ready.”
The spell was broken.
She climbed off him, briskly dusting all the twigs
and bracken off her clothes, using her fingers to pluck what she could out of
her hair. It was so bad she’d have to get out her comb and re-weave her braid.
The prince went to splash in the pond, and she
disciplined herself not to watch. Carl looked up as she went to the wagon for
her comb and returned to the fire.
“One of these days he’ll weary of you rubbing his
nose in the dirt and give you a right good thrashing,” he said amiably.
“On the day he can, I’ll be proud of him.” She
slouched by the fire and began to unravel her braid, all but exhausted. She
rubbed her neck, which was covered with grit and dust. That was too damned
close for comfort. She’d have to see to it there was no more light horseplay of
that sort.
“Ohhh, will you look at him,” Carl muttered, gazing
past her toward the pond, and Alex barely managed to stop herself before she
obeyed.
“Look at what?”
“The results of your handiwork.”
She snorted. The prince’s idea of modesty still
left much to be desired. “Flaunting himself again, is he?” She began combing at
the bottom of her hair, slowly working her way up as the tangles came out.
“You might say that.” Carl turned the spit where a
pheasant the prince had managed to shoot was roasting, dripping juices on the
fire and producing a mouthwatering smell. “He would be if anyone were looking,
at any rate.”
“Well, I’m not.” She didn’t bother to keep the
tartness from her voice. “I wonder why you are.”
“Purely to keep you informed, of course.” Carl
chuckled. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Let me guess. He has two arms, two legs, and a
cock he’s rather more than reasonably proud of. Just like any man.” She re-wove
the braid briskly and tied it with a bit of leather.
“He’s sprouted a good bit more muscle than he had
in Norwich. I’d have thought you’d appreciate a chance to enjoy examining your
handiwork.” Carl wasn’t at all perturbed by her frank speech. “I believe he’s
grown a bit more courtesy, as well.”
“If he had an ounce of politeness, he wouldn’t
strip naked and wash in the presence of a lady.” She thought of making a mint
infusion, then reached for their jug of ale instead and poured herself a mug.
“Well, mayhap if you want to be treated more like a
lady, you could act more like one.” Carl glanced at her out of the corner of
his eye, calculating how angry he was making her. “Instead of like a sergeant
at the drill.”
“I act like what I am,” she muttered.
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