The Master and the Sorceress Page 19

  She beamed up at him. “I’ve loved you since the first day when I almost galloped over you, I think. You have set me free of my melancholy and shown me the way forward. I know there will be strife between us, but there is so much love.”

  “And desire,” James growled, nibbling his way down her neck until she trembled in his arms.

  “I want you, James,” she whispered against his throat.

  He kissed her, savoring the sweet softness of her lips and the promise of her ripe body against him. “I vowed I would not take you again until we were married,” he said. “I was here tonight, praying you might find me. I realized the only way for me to have you was for you to come to me. And here you are.” He kissed her again. “We’ll find a priestess and be married this night, and I can spend the rest of my life making up for breaking your heart.”

  “You are forgiven, beloved,” Katrine said. “But if we don’t find a priestess soon, I fear I will make you break that vow.”

  James laughed and dragged her toward the back of the temple.

  Epilogue

  They were married that evening in the Temple of the Goddess in Costa, with only three priestesses for witnesses. Katrine wouldn’t have it any other way. A hundred candles lit the space as she pledged her life to James, and he promised to love and care for her until death parted them.

  A joy she never imagined filled her heart, and the last of her doubts vanished as he kissed her. The celebrants drifted away after the last blessing, and they were alone at last.

  “Come, my lady,” James said. “Your horse awaits.”

  Demon snorted as James helped Katrine up then sat behind her for the short ride back to his mansion. He carried her over the threshold and straight to his room where he kicked the door shut and laid her on the bed.

  “I hope you’re ready for a night of passion, my love,” he said. “We’ll sleep tomorrow.”

  And that was the theme of their nights for the next week. Make love all night and sleep all day. Katrine was becoming a nocturnal creature, and her hounds weren’t happy. However, James said it was their honeymoon and theirs alone. The world could wait. He turned all visitors away, and they made plans to travel to Katrine’s family estate to celebrate their union properly.

  Their mode of travel was the pony and cart—a much more intimate journey than it would have been on horseback. Eight days after their marriage, Katrine arrived back in the bosom of her family. Esta’s tears knew no end, and her mother wasn’t far behind. Sam clapped James on the back as if he was glad to have another brother. Everyone was happy to see them united, and Katrine secretly hoped she might be with child before the month was out. She cherished the idea she might already have James’s son or daughter within her womb.

  The only black cloud on the horizon was Hetty. Kat had yet to tell her mentor of her decision. After a week back on the estate, she could put it off no longer. She retreated to her room one night when James and Sam were sharing a cigar in the drawing room.

  Tension tightened her gut as she waited before the fire. “Hetty, we must speak.” She waved her hand before the flames, and the seamed face of the old witch appeared.

  “Hello, child. You took a long time to return with your answer. It must be two weeks!”

  Katrine forced herself to maintain eye contact. “A little more than two weeks. How are you, Hetty?”

  “I am well but I don’t have time to sit here chatting. Give me your answer, girl!”

  Katrine restrained the angry words that gathered on her tongue. She was a grown woman, not a girl, and she had every right to follow her own path without fear of upsetting Hetty. “I’m sorry, but I’ve decided not to move to Brightcastle. I’ll fight my fight here or wherever necessary with James by my side.”

  There! It was out in the open! Silence greeted her words.

  “Hetty?”

  “I’m here child.”

  Was it her imagination or did Hetty’s voice sound incredibly weary?

  “It wasn’t a decision I took lightly, and I’m grateful you asked me to take your place. But James proposed, and I said ‘yes’.”

  “Love will come and go, child, but the work of keeping the kingdom safe will continue.”

  “There’s no point in further discussion, Hetty. I’ll help you whenever I can, but James has to come first.”

  The face in the fire would have terrified most people. Kat’s toes curled with regret.

  “I’m sorry, Hetty. Please keep in touch.”

  Hetty’s image faded from the flames, and Kat choked back a sob. Her old friend hadn’t even wished her happy.

  She paced back and forth across the rug, examining her dilemma from every angle. Could she keep Hetty content without risk to herself or James? It wasn’t as if she had refused to help her old friend, only ruled out moving to Brightcastle. Surely if she kept in touch through the flames, Hetty could summon her when needed? James must visit Brightcastle on a regular basis, and Kat would accompany him. She could learn what she needed over time and perhaps take up the mantle further down the track. Would her plan suffice to keep Hetty content and the kingdom safe?

  James stepped into the room, and she immediately went to him, burying her face in his chest.

  His strong arms engulfed her, and she felt better, more able to cope with whatever life might throw at her. If she ever worried about her decision to marry James, moments like this reinforced the fact she had chosen well. He was a joy and a comfort, and so many other things. Her face heated at the thought.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Kat sighed, contentment seeping over the unrest of a moment before. “I told Hetty my decision. She wasn’t happy.”

  “It’s not your fault, Kat. She can’t have her way in all things.”

  “She’s trying to protect the kingdom and her magical heritage. I’m merely looking after myself.”

  He raised her face to his with one finger under her chin. “And what if we have children? Your magical abilities may be passed on. Isn’t that important too?”

  Kat took a deep breath as she imagined their dark-haired children, some of whom might even cast spells in future. “You’re right. Our children can be a force for good in the kingdom. I hadn’t imagined that.”

  “Isn’t there a way you can help Hetty without uprooting your whole world, or doesn’t she want you under those conditions?”

  Kat sighed. “I’m not sure. She was gone too quickly for me to ask. From my perspective, it’s very possible for me to keep in touch and help when needed.”

  James hauled her against him. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We can visit Brightcastle whenever necessary, at least every few months. I need to take Princess Benae’s tiara to her soon, so you will accompany me. We’ll sort it all out with Hetty.”

  “You would go with me?” Kat’s heart bounded at the thought of confronting Hetty face to face. If she had James’s solid presence at her side perhaps she could approach her friend with certainty that her decision was the correct one. It was important Hetty understood they were a team.

  “You know I will,” he said, framing her face with his hands. “From now on, you and I will face everything together, the good and the bad, the joy and the sadness.”

  He lowered his lips to hers, and, in his embrace, Kat finally believed she was where she was meant to be.

  Thank you for reading The Master and the Sorceress. If you enjoyed it could you please leave a review at your favourite ebook retailer and on Goodreads?

  Thanks so much!

  Regards

  Bernadette Rowley

  Acknowledgements

  To Louise Cusack for her inspiration and advice over the last eleven years.

  To Duncan Carling-Rodgers for his assistance during the most recent edits of The Master and the Sorceress.

  To Katrina Joyner for her beautiful cover and formatting.

  To my husband, Michael, and my sons for their unending love and support and for sharing in the disappointments
and triumphs of a writing life.

  About the Author

  Bernadette Rowley is a lover of epic fantasy who is a veterinarian by day and an author by night. She is currently published in the genre of fantasy/paranormal romance with seven books, all set in her fantasy world of Thorius.

  When she was a young teenager, an aunt gave her a copy of The Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks and Bernadette has lived in various fantasy worlds ever since. So, it’s no surprise that her chosen genre when writing romance is fantasy.

  “I can see these settings so vibrantly in my mind and hope my readers can too.”

  But Bernadette has no desire to spoon-feed her readers by laboriously describing her fantasy settings. She would rather the reader use their own imagination a little.

  Along with sword and sorcery, dashing heroes and stunning heroines, this author includes strong healing themes in many of her books- an element which is central to her everyday job.

  “When I started writing this series, I never imagined my day job would force its way into my stories as it has.”

  And of course, there are animals, especially Bernadette’s beloved horses, as well.

  Bernadette lives in Brisbane, Australia, with the four heroes in her life- her husband Michael and three grown sons.

  Check out my Smashwords Interview here: https://www.smashwords.com/interview/BernadetteR

  Connect with Me

  Subscribe to my blog: https://bernadetterowley.com

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  The Lord and the Mermaid

  (Wildecoast Saga Book 1)

  Chapter 1

  Nikolas Cosara loved the beach after a storm, and last night’s had been as fierce as any he’d seen. Nik always walked the beach the morning after tempest, driven to explore the flotsam the waves left behind and carving the driftwood into sea creatures. Sometimes he found treasures in the piles of debris.

  A dark mound appeared on the beach ahead, likely a dead sea creature. As he drew closer, he discerned a tail, like that of the dolphins which frolicked in the bow wave of boats. Pain seared his heart at the thought of the majestic creature beached, never again to laugh at the folly of sailors. Yes, definitely a dolphin’s tail, smooth and gray, not a scale to be seen. No more could be spied of the beast as seaweed and driftwood covered the remainder, along with the strands of a scarlet wig, the kind that ladies sometimes wore at court.

  Nik tugged at the red strands but couldn’t remove the wig from the pile. He dragged the seaweed away instead and froze. He had revealed a woman’s chest, complete with perfect breasts. Her alabaster skin held a faint green tint, but he couldn’t see her face. Frantic, he tossed away debris, seaweed and driftwood and turned her to the weak morning sun. A pulse beat feebly at her throat, but her breath barely moved her chest. He pushed aside the rest of the debris, his heart pounding fit to burst from his body.

  A sneaking, murdering, mermaid. Fury swept him and he clenched his teeth to hold in the shriek that fought its way from his throat. At last he’d found a small piece of revenge against the sea nymphs; a life for his brother’s. He stared at the perfect features, full pale lips, high cheekbones, long reddish lashes, placed in a heart-shaped face that had likely lured dozens of sailors to their deaths. And that bosom, no man could gaze upon that without wanting to touch the luscious curves. Oh yes, this monster had all the tools of the trade, but she’d not kill another man if he had anything to say about it.

  Nik pulled the knife from his boot and raised it, ready to deliver a fatal strike. Something stayed his hand. A kernel of sanity urged him to use this being to discover what happened to Jon. Suddenly, Nik was looking into brilliant sea-green eyes. A keening song sliced through his skull and he stiffened, the knife falling from his hand.

  *

  I have killed him! Merielle’s heart faltered as she watched the man topple to the sand. It was the shock of seeing him standing over her, brandishing that knife, knowing he meant to kill her. Helpless on the sand, her only defense had been “the song” and she had used it without thought, desperately, instinctively. The humans were right, her people were monsters.

  Meri hauled herself out of the rubbish, her head whirling, and fell back as agony lanced through her right shoulder. She clutched it, resting against the driftwood, breathing deeply until the pain began to ebb. Beached and injured! How her mother would sneer at her! She gathered her breath and pushed a pile of driftwood from her hips with her good arm. This time she was able to roll towards her victim. She placed a hand on his chest, felt its gentle rise and fall.

  He lives! But even as she watched, his skin lost what color it had, his breathing slowed. Meri closed her eyes and crooned her healing song, low at first and then louder, but not so strong that he would regain his senses too soon. His mind waves stuttered and returned to a normal rhythm; well, normal for a human. His broad chest heaved and settled into the even breaths of sleep. Meri sighed. This man would not die at her hands, making a mockery of her life, of her plans.

  She studied the human. His skin was tanned a golden brown and his honey-blond hair tangled into long locks that he tied in a bunch at the back of his neck. His lips were full and sensual, his nose straight and strong, slightly broad at the nostrils, neatly-trimmed hair lay above and below his mouth. The wicked scar that sliced across his left cheekbone enhanced his beauty, made him appear dangerous, even while asleep.

  Meri’s gaze fell to the man’s torso and there she truly lost her breath. His shoulders had an impressive width, swooping into upper arms the size of most men’s thighs. A smattering of golden hair peeked from the open neck of his shirt and she ran her hand up through it. He groaned and turned his head but did not wake. She seized the knife and hid it beneath her.

  He had wanted her dead when he saw her amongst the rubbish. That was natural, their peoples ever at war. She had come here to change that in her small way but had not banked on the storm. At least it might stop her family from pursuit long enough for her to escape. But now Meri was injured, her options limited. She could not linger in the shallows and around the harbor, hoping to tempt a man to take her into his heart. She had not the strength for that, not for weeks yet if she was any judge of an injury. And this man’s hatred was too strong for her to believe he would help her.

  Meri arranged her long red tresses to cover her breasts and took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She could manage him if he reacted with violence again. She could. He groaned, and her traitorous heart stirred. Anything could happen. He was a man, wild and uncultured, beautiful and fierce, and he hated her.

  And then he opened his eyes, magnificent turquoise orbs that reminded her of the scales on the little reef fish. She could not look away. He stiffened and levered himself up on his elbows. The muscles of his stomach bunched, and she pulled her hand away. His gaze raked over her and Meri was glad she had covered her breasts.

  “What do you want?” he said, his voice deep and low.

  “I do not wish to hurt you, sir,” Meri said.

  He drew in a quick breath. “You speak my language.”

  She gave a delicate snort. “Of course I do. If you bothered to ask, I could have told you that earlier. Instead you tried to kill me.”

  “I contemplated it.” He looked around and Meri knew he was looking for his knife.

  “Is this what you seek?” She held up the wicked blade, the movement sending a stab of agony into her shoulder. Her stomach roiled at the pain, but she tried to hide it. “I’m afraid I shall have to keep it, if only to ensure my safety.”

  “You’ve proven you need no knife, madam,” the man said, rubbing his right temple as if it still throbbed.

  “Ho! So now I’m madam. Thank
you very much.”

  “Why am I not dead?” He sat up and Meri braced for his lunge.

  “Contrary to your opinion, I did not try to kill you, only defend myself.” Perhaps she might talk herself out of this?

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Very noble of you, but why would you stay your hand?”

  Meri lifted her chin. “I have my reasons. Besides, why need there be war between our peoples?”

  “I’ve good reason to hate your kind,” he said. “Even if it wasn’t personal, your people are a plague on the oceans.”

  “I could say the same. You have no right to sail the seas, dropping your waste and stealing our bounty. But I do not want to argue with you. I need your help.”

  “Ah,” he said, “and now we come to the reason I am still alive.” He stood, wincing at the movement.

  “Please, sir, listen to me.” Meri realized that this man could leave her stranded on the beach. Anyone could come along, and she would have to go through all this again.

  “I am sorry that my people have harmed you in whatever way,” Meri said, “but I am not responsible. I have fled my family and I need your help.”

  “Why should I believe you are any different to the rest of your race?”

  Meri drew herself up. “I do not lie.”

  The man studied her as if she was an unsavory but fascinating parasite. Perhaps she had his interest after all.

  “What’s your name?” he said.

  Meri’s heart quickened. Progress! “Merielle.”

  “That’s it? Merielle? No other name to go with it?”

  “I have other names, but you do not need to know them. What is yours?”