Ashley York - Eggcerpt Exchange Information for Curse
of the Healer
BLURB:
After
the death of Brian Boru in 1014, a legend arose of a healer so great she could
raise a man from the dead, with a power so strong it could make any warrior the
next high king of Éire...and to steal it away from her, he need only possess
her.
Fated
to be a healer…
Aednat has spent her entire life
training to be the great healer, knowing she must remain
alone. When she meets Diarmuid, the intense attraction she feels toward him
shakes her resolve to believe in such a legend. If she gives in to the passion
he ignites in her, can she settle for being less?
Destined
to be his…
Diarmuid of Clonascra is renowned for his bravery in
battle. Only one thing daunts him: the prospect of taking a wife. The safest
course would be to keep his distance from Aednat, the bold, headstrong healer
who's far too tempting for his peace of mind. But his overking orders him to
protect her from a group of craven warriors intent on kidnapping her to steal
her power.
What starts as duty for Diarmuid quickly transforms
into something more. Aednat's power might be at risk, but so is his closed-off
heart.
EXCERPT:
“The
lad learned his lesson.” Aednat spat the words right back at the man.
“Ye
said yerself he’d be doing it again.” Despite the even keel of his voice, his
increasing anger was unmistakable. “Or am I so old and feeble that my hearing
is failing me?”
Staring
in the face of his obvious vitality and strength, she hesitated. A finer
specimen of a well-honed man she’d not seen. “I do not really believe—”
“NO?”
A sheer wall of exasperation now, he waited. His square jaw tensed beneath the
shadow of dark stubble. “Mayhap the next time ye’ll find his young body impaled
on a rock at the bottom of the cliff.”
The
menacing declaration, delivered in a low, controlled manner, made her gasp. The
image flashing through her mind caused it to feel real. She slapped the man’s
face so hard, his beard burned the palm of her hand.
Aednat
froze, horrified at her own reaction. Striking a man was no small offense, and
if this man was a ri, the
consequences would be serious. His eyes widened right before he caught her arm
and yanked her close. Her breath caught, though his grip was not overly tight.
They stood that way for a long moment—his head lowered to hers so they stood
nose to nose, his broad chest brushing against her forearm in time with his
heavy breathing. His gaze dropped to slowly follow up her length before
settling again on her face.
That
he continued to study her kept her fully watchful. His features relaxed, but
she sensed mounting tension in him. The many possibilities of what he may be
thinking flitted through her mind like little mice avoiding a hungry hawk.
Outrage. Indignation. Superiority.
“I
forego the fine I have every right to demand for yer action. Instead, I demand
a kiss.”
He
delivered the words as a man in authority. And he did not look away.
A
kiss? Heat poured off him, but it was no longer anger riding him. She forced
down the lump in her throat, holding his intense gaze as her thoughts raced.
She had never been kissed by a man. Or kissed a man, but it was not a high
price to pay to dismiss the entire incident.
Refusing
would certainly result in a steeper demand, and the last thing she wanted to do
was to cause any problems for her overking
and cousin. He acted as her father, so any honor price demanded or paid
could be half his worth. A king held
no special power outside his own túath,
but at a gathering this size, ruffling any fine feathers was to be avoided.
Aednat
glanced at the warrior’s lips. His eyes brightened and she struggled to breath
evenly as she held his gaze, anticipation making a mockery of her show of
bravery. She wetted her lips and his long nose flared ever so slightly.
BUY LINKS
BIO
Aside
from two years spent in the wilds of the Colorado mountains, Ashley York is a
proud life-long New Englander and a hardcore romantic. She has an MA in History
which brings with it, through many years of research, a love for primary
documents and the smell of musty old libraries. With her author's imagination,
she likes to write about people who could have lived alongside those well-known
giants from the past.
Thanks for sharing,
Anita
www.anitaphilmar.com
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