Why are we so often impulsive, especially when we’re young? This is the question the hero of Broken Vows is forced to ask himself when the effects of his chivalrous actions are suddenly too hard to swallow. Like many young men, Gareth was let down by the lady who had won his heart and, at that time, he swore never to love again. Unfortunately, he took his vow too far, actually invoking the name of God. Now, older, wiser, and madly in love with the woman he was assured he’d never even find attractive, he’s in a quandary—break his vow and risk his soul or live the rest of his life in an agony of unrelenting desire.
In a world where the church wields immense power, and a knight would never dare to break an oath—especially one entered into from a sense of chivalry—this is a real dilemma. How his lady interprets the wording of the vow is another thing altogether, and for a man desperate for just a taste of the woman of his dreams, this play on words is irresistible.
I hope you’ll enjoy the excerpt of Broken Vows below, and be tempted by all the amazing stories in the Hot Highlanders & Wild Warriors.
Gareth strode through the tiltyard, his cock so hard it made each step painful penance for his ill-temper and arrogance.
“Render onto Caesar what is Caesar’s.” He heard the earl’s voice in his head—a mocking reminder of their assurance this insane plan would work. “I don’t ask you to break your oath, simply to keep the one you swore to secure my holdings and stand with me as your liege. Lady Mary is plain, will offer no temptation. ’Twill be a simple matter of overseeing the lands, ensuring none encroach upon them.”
Entering the shadowy stables, Gareth ground his teeth to halt the string of foul curses rising in his throat. No doubt the earl believed what he said, but Gareth most certainly didn’t agree. Lady Mary affected him in a way no other woman ever had. One look from her glorious brown eyes made him want to fall to his knees and beg for her favor, her heart, her body. One soft touch of her fingers had him cursing the youth and misplaced chivalry that caused him to take a vow he now bitterly regretted.
In the desert, lonely and afraid, hearing Lizbet had wed another caused frustration and self-pity to turn to disappointment and pain. But time had eased the sting, and coming home to discover she had died birthing her husband’s babe had just intensified the suspicion he’d been a fool. He’d started with nothing except her whispered promise to wait for him and ended with a binding vow that threatened to ensure he would never know happiness at all.
Snatching up a saddle, Gareth threw it onto his charger’s back and cinched it tight.
Each breath of Mary’s subtle, lilac-tinged perfume, each glance, every smile drew him further under her spell. Just the memory of her cheeks turning pink beneath his perusal made him growl, ravenous for her.
Gareth swung onto Raven’s back and kicking the horse into motion. He’d ride tonight until he’d whipped these crazed feelings back, locked them away.
Yet, he knew the best he could hope for was exhaustion enough to allow him one night’s sleep not haunted by imaginings of wrapping his wife in his arms, burying himself in her body, holding her—and never letting go.