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My Lord Conqueror by P-HarpercollinsPubl

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By rights, Merrick of Normandy should shun the serpent-tongued beauty who wishes him dead. But Alana's sensuous fire draws him to her -- and burns him to his warrior soul. It is he who is lord and she the captive. Yet Merrick can never claim true victory until the proud Saxon maid shares his passion -- and embraces him as master of her heart.

More Info
									My Lord Conqueror
Author: Samantha James
Author: Sandra Kleinschmidt
Description

By rights, Merrick of Normandy should shun the serpent-tongued beauty who wishes him dead. But
Alana's sensuous fire draws him to her -- and burns him to his warrior soul. It is he who is lord and she
the captive. Yet Merrick can never claim true victory until the proud Saxon maid shares his passion -- and
embraces him as master of her heart.
Excerpt

All around was a darkness such as she had never known. Blacker than the deepest pits of hell. Shadows
shifted and loomed, darting back and forth, in and out, as if to snatch at her with greedy, grasping
fingers . . .She could feel...something. Something evil. A sense of danger that loomed all around, as
heavy and thick and depthless as the shadows.The wind rose in fury, wailing and howling. Lightning
crashed across the heavens, a blaze of rending light. Thunder roared across the land, shaking. the very
ground beneath her feet. Great pools of blood splotched the earth. The air was rife with the sickening
stench of gore and destruction.Then she was running. Over the shriek of the wind, her pulse roared in her
ears. Footsteps trampled the earth just behind her.Blindly she ran, besieged by darkness. Beset by
danger. By those horrible shadows that lurked all around. The specter of death loomed close at hand.
Pressing in on her. Smothering her so that she could scarcely breathe . . .But all at once there arose
before her a hulking shadow. Front out of the shadows they came...Man and beast. Knight and
destrier.He sat atop the great black steed, armed and mailed. For one single, frozen moment, he was
dark and faceless, his features hidden behind a cone-shaped helmet. Behind him, lightning ripped the sky
apart; it was as if he were cast in silver.Slowly he raised his helm. A jolt tore through her. His expression
was utterly fierce, pale and glittering and cold as frost; it stabbed into her like the point of a spear. Then
slowly he raised his arm. Clasped in one gauntleted hand was a gleaming sword. He raised it high, his
weapon poised for the space of a heartbeat. Then it sliced down . . .down to pierce her breast . . ."Alana!
By the Rood, girl, what ails you? If you do not cease this screeching, you Will surely wake your poor
dead mother!"The voice was scratchy as a hair shirt, dry and raspy with age, yet it was a familiar one.
Alana of Brynwald reached for it almost desperately as she surfaced through filmy layers of darkness.
She awoke trembling, the shrill of still another scream curdled in her breast.For a moment she lay
huddled there, her cheek pressed into her lumpy straw pallet, her fingers clutching the thin woolen
blanket to her chin. Her surroundings were slow to penetrate her muddled senses. Little by little reality
seeped in. Only then did her terror begin to abate.She was here, in the tiny cottage where she had spent
her childhood and grown to womanhood. Dawns tepid light slowly penetrated through the single shuttered
window, allowing her to glimpse the furrowed cheeks of the white-bearded man who bent over her.Her
breath left her in a trembling rush. No sword had pricked her breast. There was no dark knight before her
who sought to relieve her of her life's blood. She was alive...alive. But the dream, that horrible, horrible
dream . . .The dream had come yet again.Aubrey eased back on his haunches, wincing just a little.
Beneath the frayed and ragged wool of his tunic, his shoulders were hunched and thin. His hair hung to
his shoulders, as white as his beard. Deep lines scored his cheeks and brow, but his eyes were keenly
sharp -- with both concern and speculation."You gave these old bones a fright, child. I heard your cries
inside my hut."Alana said nothing. She pushed aside the tattered blanket and eased herself to her knees
on the damp, cold earth of the cottage, tucking her slender legs beneath her.Aubrey watched her, his
shaggy brows drawn together. She willed her hand...
Author Bio
Samantha James
A firm believer in happily-ever-afters, Samantha James delivers them in her books such as The Secret
Passion of Simon Blackwell, A Perfect Hero, A Perfect Groom, A Perfect Bride, The Truest Heart, His
Wicked Promise, His Wicked Ways, One Moonlit Night, A Promise Given, and Every Wish Fulfilled,
many of which have won awards and earned slots on such prestigious bestseller lists as the New York
Times Extended and USA Today.


Sandra Kleinschmidt
A firm believer in happily-ever-afters, Samantha James delivers them in her books such as The Secret
Passion of Simon Blackwell, A Perfect Hero, A Perfect Groom, A Perfect Bride, The Truest Heart, His
Wicked Promise, His Wicked Ways, One Moonlit Night, A Promise Given, and Every Wish Fulfilled,
many of which have won awards and earned slots on such prestigious bestseller lists as the New York
Times Extended and USA Today.

								
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