Eryn Blackwell - Barons Right

Barons Right

Eryn Blackwell

Passion ignites between a cautious healer and a battle-weary knight.

Acelwyn is an independent healer, a woman with her own mind who swears shell never be at any mans mercy. Roidan , a great warrior, appreciates his new land, granted to him by the kingbut nothing fires his blood, his passion, as does the sensual healer he vows will be his.

Though Acelwyn is attracted to the new baron, shes more interested in keeping him alive and staying out of another mans clutches. Roidan vows to protect her from all harm; he wants no other to have her. A man of hearty appetites, he initiates her into sexual pleasure. But will passion be enough to keep Acelwyn tied to him? If not, hell keep her anywayas is the barons right.

An Elloras Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Barons Right

ISBN 9781419927263

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Barons Right Copyright 2010 Eryn Blackwell

Edited by Helen Woodall

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book publication April 2010

The terms Romantica and Quickies are registered trademarks of Elloras Cave Publishing.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Elloras Cave Publishing, Inc. 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors imagination and used fictitiously.

Barons Right

Eryn Blackwell

Dedication

This is for my friends who know all my secrets and still love me anyway. Or, at least, they say they do.

Chapter One

The night was ripe with violence, heavy and thick in the air. Acelwyn knew it was coming. The entire village knew the Wolf was coming, the Saxon lord. The new baron would arrive at any moment, and the old barona Dane, barricaded behind his wallswould not last. Battles were a constant way of life here on this barren shore of the North Sea. If it was not the Danes fighting the Saxons, it was the raiding Vikings.

The old baron would undoubtedly diehe had after all pledged his loyalty to the new King Alfred, and then had tried to plot and overthrow the new king. His lands had been stripped from him, and upon hearing that news, hed killed the kings men and was now barricaded behind his walls.

Not that she cared. The old baron was a wicked, evil man, who preyed on the young village women. Hed sold his own niece to Valmor , the merchant, who in turn made a hefty price off the girls virginity to some Viking.

Poor woman.

Acelwyn shivered and pulled her mantle tighter around her, warding off the chill that blew in from the sea. Here in the village of Dakar, it always seemed cold, especially this time of year when the fickle goddess of weather would send sheets of ice and snow, or rain and hail, depending upon her mood.

From this position, she could see across the cove, to the land, at least a days ride by the cliffs, on the other side of the giant horseshoe shape. Boats were faster. The quay at the bottom of the cliffs already teemed with more activity than normal. Ships from the new baron lay anchored at the docks. Which one was his she knew not, as all appeared the same. Five in all. Men scurried about, some local, some new in unfamiliar tunics and armor. On the wind she could vaguely hear the sounds of bustle, of the horses being unloaded, of the carts being filled, of armor clanging. From here she could easily see that the army unloading was not meeting any resistance and they wouldnt until they reached the fortressand perhaps not even then.

There was no land bridge on this side connecting them to the mainland, not like some of the other isles the soldiers spoke of. No, here there was just the sea. She could glimpse the shores of the mainland through the moonlight. She glanced up and knew before morning there would be a fog off the coast, slowly rolling in. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, the wet scent heavy on the air, different from the briny scent of sea. The fog rolled off the mainland and always carried with it the scent of dark rich soil. She often wondered what life would be like on the mainland, but preferred life herehere with those around her, whom she cared for, and for the few friends who didnt shy away from her.

Most didnt.

But some did. Some still thought her strange, thought of her as a witch even as those same ones often came to her and asked for her help, for her to heal them, or cure their ailments.

What would the new Baron to Dracos Isle think? Would he be a good leader?

Shed heard the tales of his prowess in battle, his determination and ruthlessness. These things were not uncommon in ones who achieved power. Whether or not he might have compassion or mercy, let alone justice or honor would remain to be seen.

The goddess knew the old baron had none of those attributes. No, the old baron enjoyed his ruthlessness, his debauchery too much to be concerned with higher morals.

She heard a harness jingle, the sound of a horses hoof as it moved along the path behind her, just at the edge of the trees.

Should she turn?

Or stay as she was?

The wind gusted and billowed her cloak around her, pulling the long strands of her hair across her face.

He thought hed imagined her. That lone figure, long red hair flying wildly, as hed watched the unloading of the ships from a place just below this one, hidden by a rise and several trees. As hed turned to head down to the docks, something, some feeling, had prickled the back of his neck. He had looked at the rise of land above him and seen her, the woman on the cliffs with the long dark hair.

Lust tugged and hardened his cock so that riding was actually uncomfortable. He frowned and shifted.

Who was she and what was her purpose here? If she were with someone, had a man, did he not wonder where she was at this late hour? Did he not keep a tight rein on her?

Perhaps she was a widow. Or a lone woman

He smiled.

Whoever she was, she was his. If she belonged to this land, she now belonged to him.

She moved, glanced back over her shoulder toward him in that moment and the moonlight glinted off her pale complexion. He had no idea the color of her eyes, or if freckles danced on her fair skin. From here, her profile, almost hidden by a hooded cloak she had pulled around her was perfect, a straight nose, a long face. She was a tall woman from what he could see.

Do you always stare at women? she asked, her voice soft, husky on the night breeze.

He narrowed his gaze at her and dismounted, his horse prancing to the side as if he too was not sure of who or even what she was.

He shushed his steed and patted his neck. Well see if shes of merit, he whispered.

He thought he heard her snort, but couldnt be certain.

She still did not face him, but continued to look out over the bay where his boats were moored.

He stopped beside her, not three feet from her. He glanced over the edge, surprised to find it such a steep cliff. It had not appeared so from below.