Hello Readers : )
I have another interesting guest post and this time it’s by self published author Samantha Holt.
But first, a sneak peek at her latest novel.
The Angel’s Assassin
by Samantha Holt
44,000 words (eBook format)
Erotic Historical Romance
Contains Elements of Action
Heat Level: Steamy
Amazon (US) – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00989J3PM
Amazon (UK) – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00989J3PM
A medieval story of love and betrayal.
As a rebellion sweeps England, Lady Annabel finds her home overrun by rebels. Much to her relief, a dark knight comes to her rescue, claiming to have been sent to protect her by her uncle.
But Nicholas holds a secret about the job he was sent to do and it is a far cry from what Annabel believes it to be. As the attraction between them grows, Nicholas begins to question the dark life he has lived. But is it enough to change him and will Annabel ever trust again after learning the true nature of his sinful duty?
He ran. Aware only of the need to keep her safe, he sprinted until his thighs burned and his arms ached from her weight. Not that she was a heavy burden, for she lay limply in his arms, only the faint throb of a pulse assuring him that she was still alive. She wore just her chemise and it had taken a while for him to notice, his fear stricken mind consumed with other thoughts. When he had finally noticed, he wrapped her tightly in his mantle.
Continuing on, even as the dark of the following night consumed them, he narrowly avoided tripping and spilling her onto the ground. Only his resolution to keep her from harm prevented him from giving up as he stumbled across the uneven terrain, lit by little more than a half moon.
Nicholas’ steps faltered as the exertion took his toll and he was forced to a sluggish pace, his body screaming for respite. As the sun began to flicker over the horizon, it hurt his eyes, in spite of the cloud amassing in the sky. Fearing a downpour, he staggered his way into the protection of the nearest forest, unsure now of where they were.
The forest closed about them but his anxiety refused to wane. Why were they trying to kill her? If Lord Benedict had intended to kill Annabel himself then why go about this charade of hiring him? Nicholas could not fathom what he was trying to achieve. He couldn’t have possibly known that Nicholas would never go through with his sinful duty.
His legs began to shake as his lungs throbbed, but a look to Annabel’s soot covered face fortified him and he forced his legs to do the unthinkable.
He had to gain some distance between them and Godfrey. He was undoubtedly on horseback but he thought it likely he would not have risked journeying at night. Nicholas had little idea as to what to do next, but he resolved to keep pushing forwards until exhaustion claimed him.
After a day and a half of no rest, it finally did. He stumbled one final time and realised that it was unlikely he would recover again should he fall once more. Annabel lay peacefully in his arms and he did not want to risk hurting her. Pressing his back against a broad oak tree, he sank gratefully to the ground, Annabel still stretched across his arms.
His head slumped back against the bark and he shifted her head against his chest, settling her into his lap. His arms closed in around her, determined that even in sleep he would protect her. His leaden eyelids dropped and sleep quickly claimed him as his hands remained gripped around Annabel.
And now a flash romance scene by Samantha Holt,
What if he no longer loved her? What if he had changed?
Seven summers at war was bound to change a man. Elizabeth chewed at her lip as she peered anxiously out of the window of the keep. Her fingers dug into the cool stone as the flicker of a banner became visible on the horizon, swiftly followed by its bearer and several knights on horseback.
Her legs itched to run as her heart leapt into her throat. She could not tell which one was him at such a distance but she wondered if his eyes were on her window, watching for her.
Oh, how she prayed they were.
Gathering her skirts and pulling her shoulders upright, she carefully navigated the winding stairs and pushed through the busy hall. The whole castle was awash with excitement at the return of their lord and a feeling of anticipation pervaded the air.
Would he still think her beautiful? The passing of time had no doubt taken its toll. Running a keep – and defending it – was no easy task. Elizabeth hoped he would be proud of all she had done for his lands.
The thunder of hooves caused her stomach to clench as she heard them approach the gate. The portcullis rattled and Elizabeth clenched her nails into her palm, feeling the prickle of sweat on her neck. She tucked a strand of pale hair into her veil and adjusted it.
And there he came, as tall and as strong as ever in his chainmail. Elizabeth held her breath as the soldiers led their mounts through the muddy courtyard as the peasants greeted them with cheers.
His eyes. If she could only see his eyes then she would know if her husband had truly returned to her. His grey helm hid his face, though she could not mistake him. Elizabeth knew well enough the breadth of his shoulders and the pride of his stance. She had run her hands often over those broad shoulders during their first year of marriage. With only memories of that year to sustain her, she had imagined herself running her hands over them again many, many times these past years.
The soldiers stopped at the bottom of the steps and Elizabeth felt her legs twitch. She remained rooted. It would not do for her to lose her composure in front of the villeins. And what if he was not pleased to see her? She would do well not to make a fool of herself until she was sure.
Her eyes followed the movement of his body as he dismounted with ease. He pulled off his helm and Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her ears. His hair had grown long but it was still thick and wavy. War had aged him. A little grey was visible on his temples and in his stubble, and she could see lines around his eyes that had not been there before.
Elizabeth’s heart dropped. His blue eyes cast around the keep, a jaded look just visible in them. His body appeared weary, his shoulders having lost some of that pride that she remembered. Too much blood had been spilled in the Holy land. It was likely that blood had taken her husband from her.
Elizabeth watched as he handed his helm to his squire before turning to face the keep.
Her hands bunched until the prick of her nails became too much and she held her breath as his eyes came to rest upon her. A gentle grin spread across his face and the light returned to his eyes.
Elizabeth released a breath that she hadn’t realised she was holding and smiled tentatively as he bounded up the steps to her side.
“Lizzie,” he murmured softly.
His hand came out and took hers; bringing it to his lips so that he could brush them over each one of her fingers.
Elizabeth shuddered as the coarse warmth of his hand leached into her arm and she was besieged by the memory of their love. She stared into his eyes, searching. A heat blossomed through her chest and she allowed her smile to expand.
“You have returned to me,” she whispered.
He captured her lips in a searing kiss, bringing her tightly into his embrace. “Aye, Lizzie, I’ve returned to you.”
About the Author:
Samantha Holt resides in Warwickshire, England, with her twin girls, having followed her soldier husband around the UK for nearly 10 years. Growing up in Hampshire, she was inspired by the authors Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell, both of which lived and wrote only miles from her home town.
Samantha loves the romance genre and has been devouring romantic literature for as long as she can remember. History is another passion of hers and she loves to combine her love for history and romance into exciting and passionate tales.
Contact Samantha at:
Website – http://www.samanthaholt.org.uk
Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/romanticfiction