(MSRP: 14.9900)
A druid who denies himself nothing desires the only woman who believes magic and love don't mix.
AEDAN ap OWEN misuses his Sidhe gifts for his own personal pleasures and the king's dark business at the Plantagenet court. Sent north to investigate rumors of treason and dispatch the troublemakers, Aedan discovers someone is murdering monks and stealing saints' relics. And all clues point to his kinsman the Earl of Carlisle.
LADY TESS of BRIDSWELL refuses to rekindle her relationship with Aedan. She knows his reputation as a secret stealer--and she has a secret that must be kept. But her resolve falters when her uncle promises her hand to a man she despises and Aedan appears her sole salvation.
But a would-be king uses the stolen relics to amplify his power, wielding it like a weapon. Meeting the traitor's magic with magic could prevent war, but it also would destroy Aedan's chance to show Tess he has at least mastered the temptation of the ancient wisdom. Can he renounce his magic to win Tess' heart anew or will Aedan choose magic over love?
(384 pages) Spicy
EXCERPT:
“Tess.”
It was a single word, four letters, yet Aedan somehow imbued her name with the importance of a royal decree. He knows words, she reminded herself, quickening her steps. Life in the king’s court had no doubt honed to perfection his raw talent for finding the phrase to start a quarrel or arouse passion. By now, he could likely start a war—or stop one—with a single syllable. Chilled by the thought, she turned into a niche in the wall and discovered escape ended at an oak door as wide as she was tall. She fumbled for a latch. Finding only smooth boards beneath her hand, she pressed her palm against the door and prayed it would miraculously open. The steps behind her stopped. She closed her eyes. He had bathed. He smelled of Saracen soap, spicy and exotic, mixed with the brisk, earthy scent of old trees that had clung to her for days after he’d left.
“Tess.”
A tremor ran down her spine. Saints, she still loved the way he said her name. Rather than giving it a shortened, clipped feel like everyone else, he elongated it, adding depth and weight as if it were her true name.
“Tess, look at me.”
Unable to move forward or backward, she pressed her forehead against the door. Go away. Just go away, she prayed, and then hands, warm and steady, settled on her shoulders.
“Thank you,” he said.
