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The Novels of Ravenwood, Book Two
A Norman loyalist, Lady Jocelyn bristles when ordered to marry Wulfstan, a Saxon sorcerer. She nurses a painful secret and would rather bathe in a cesspit than be pawed by such a man...until her lifelong dream of motherhood rears its head.
A man of magic and mystery, Wulfstan has no time for wedded bliss. He fears that consummating their marriage will bind their souls and wrench his focus from the ancient riddle his dying mother begged him to solve. He's a lone wolf, salving old wounds with endless work. But Jocelyn stirs him as no woman ever has.
Their attraction is undeniable. Their fates are intertwined. Together, they must face their demons and bring light to a troubled land.
Page Count: 220
Word Count: 47605
Wulfstan pushed open the bedchamber door but hesitated on the threshold. Pale and wide-eyed, Jocelyn stood motionless in front of the gaping window. She stared at him as though he were the Devil incarnate.
“Is it the wolf you fear?” he questioned. “Or is it me?”
Jocelyn lifted her chin. “That depends on how much the two of you have in common.”
Curbing a grin, he entered the chamber and shut the door. “We have more in common than you’d suspect.”
“Oh, I suspect quite a bit.”
“I suppose you would.”
She crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”
Careful. Tell her gently. He gestured to the hearth. “Come sit by the fire.”
“I’m warm enough, thank you.”
“Then sit on the bed.”
Her arms tightened against her torso. “I’d rather not.”
He sighed heavily. “I’ll keep my distance. You’ll be quite safe.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she lowered her arms. She marched to the bed, and as she sat, her tan tunic seemed to meld with the various shades of the pelts around her. Her long, elegant fingers raked the fur. “Happy?”
He swallowed hard. “Rapturous.”
His mutinous mind conjured an image of her lying beneath him on the soft fur, arching toward him with the same abandon she’d shown at Woden’s Circle. It stirred his blood, and his manhood. By law, her body was his to claim, his to devour at will.
Outside, the wolf howled a second time, prolonging the highest note with seeming ease. The sound shattered Wulfstan’s fantasy, reminding him of his mission and the discipline he dared not forsake. He took a deep breath and quelled his arousal.
“Well?” said Jocelyn.
He cocked an eyebrow. Had she intuited his dilemma?
“Your vision,” she prompted. “I’ve waited a lifetime to hear it.”
He gritted his teeth. ’Twas now or never. “I see my visions from the viewpoint of the person I’m touching.”
She gave him a nod. “In this case, from my point of view.”
“Exactly. I was in a large, ornate bedchamber, standing before a woman with brown hair and amber eyes.”