Court of the Hawk












ISBN Digital: 9781628308020
ISBN Print: 9781628308013
Page Count: 396
Word Count: 104150
Rating: Sensual


When a single moment challenges your perception of truth…
 
Epigraphist Dr. Essie DeSpencer travels to an ancient Welsh castle in order to decipher an Ogham inscription discovered by the handsome and enigmatic, Garreth ap Daffyd. But the journey is not what she expects. She doesn’t plan to fall for the Lord of the castle, or to find herself deeply entrenched in legends, myths, and magic.
 
Real legends, and real magic, that have devastating consequences. Garreth didn’t plan for Essie to stay any longer than it took her to decipher the pictograph. Instead, he finds himself falling in love for the first time in his very long life. Now the Lord of Llys y Gwalch must find a way to attain the heart of his soul mate and keep her safe from the dangers that threaten them both.

Excerpt:

She leaned forward, wrapped her arms around her knees, and gazed up at the heavens. “What are you thinking, Essie? Phantoms and fairies belong in fairytales and well you know it,” she berated aloud. “The existence of such creatures? Well, such a thing just isn’t possible.”

“What isn’t possible?”

Essie’s heart accelerated as she turned her head in the direction of Garreth’s voice. He sat down beside her, placed a finger underneath her chin, and tilted it upward, forcing their gazes to meet. A shiver traveled down her spine in response.

He searched her eyes for several moments. “Please, Essie, tell me what it is that troubles you so. Perhaps I can help.”

“Oh, where to even begin with that,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

“Why not begin with the thing that troubles you most.”

She gazed into his eyes as she measured his level of sincerity. He didn’t shy away from the intensity of her search. “I need full and complete honesty from you, Garreth. Without it, there’s no need to have this discussion, or even a need for me to stay here any longer.”

“You shall have it. I give you my word, will that suffice?”

“Yes, that’ll do.”

He gave her an encouraging nod. “All right then—first question.”

“How old are you?” She held her breath and waited. In fact, she waited so long she wondered if he’d answer the question at all.

Finally, he dropped his gaze and returned a slow nod. He made the gesture more in response to an inner resignation than directing it toward her. “First, if I might ask, what gave rise to your curiosity?”

She combed the windblown hair away from her face and shrugged. “Does it make any difference as to how you’ll respond?”

He considered that for a time before he spoke. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Still, I’d like to know.”

“All right, I don’t have a problem giving you an answer.” She cleared her throat. “The quake disturbed several portraits hanging along the hallways. I found one of them on the floor after leaving my room. So, I picked it up with every intention of replacing it, but the subject stole my attention. You see, if asked under oath in a court of law, I would swear you posed for the portrait at least two, maybe even three centuries ago.”

“And you didn’t stop to consider whether or not the man in the painting might be a distant ancestor to whom I bear a great resemblance?”

She extended a finger to his face, gently traced the scar that only served to enhance his looks, and shook her head. “Not when the artist painted him with this.”




Copyright © 2017 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.