Bold Angel by Kat Martin

By Kat Martin

They have been enemies in a divided land...
In Bold Angel by Kat Martin, Saxon good looks Caryn of Ivesham longed to flee the chilliness grey cloisters of the convent to which she'd fled―but no longer in marriage to the towering, feared Raolfe de Gere, the Norman knight they referred to as Ral the Relentless. even if he had as soon as kept her from a destiny worse than dying, she couldn't omit he'd raised the awful battlements of Braxston keep it up her useless father's lands or that his males had dishonored her sister. If she wed him to deliver peace to her humans, he must lay siege to her bed.

Will their love overcome all―or damage them both?
The darkly good-looking warlord's blood coursed with hope for Caryn's burnished red lips, and his ardour wouldn't be denied. yet within the wild ecstasy they shared, Ral feared greater than his middle used to be at risk. may his rebellious bride be a traitor deadlier than the wolves and brigands prowling deep in English forests?

"An first-class medieval romance...Readers won't basically love this novel, yet clamor for a sequel." ―Affaire de Coeur

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Example text

Caryn paused, turning to look into his handsome face. " "Do not gainsay me in this, ma petite. " Caryn flushed crimson. She didn't wish to reach his bed at all, but she didn't dare tell him that. " She fell in behind Marta, who shuffled hurriedly from the room. Ral watched them go, the maid's small hands gripping the remnants of her tunic, her thick dark auburn hair rippling nearly to her waist. She wasn't the blue-eyed beauty her sister was, but she was comely to be sure. She'd blossomed into a vibrant young woman.

Caryn turned as Sister Agnes walked up with a cluster of nuns. " Agnes asked. " "The novices? What does he want with them? By what authority—" "He is Malvern," Caryn said. " She turned to Sister Beatrice. "Whatever happens, you must keep Gweneth away. She is still in her cell. " Beatrice glanced at the men, nodded and turned to leave, but Caryn caught her arm. " As the men began to move through the halls, Beatrice hurried toward the rear of the convent. The women who wore no veils were roughly rounded up and hauled toward the front, Caryn among them.

You're naught but a girl. " Caryn bristled. "You are not dowered. You bring naught to this union but the rags on you back. " "'Tis not too late. " She turned her back to him and walked to the small arrow hole that served as a window. She hadn't like the way his eyes found the rent in her garment, the way her stomach tightened when they did. He was hard and tough, his look even fiercer than Lord Stephen's. . and far more intimate. As if he yet sized her up for the duties she would perform in the marriage bed.

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