Series: de Wolfe Pack #7
Genres: Historical Fiction, Romance
Release Date: February 21, 2017
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing Inc.
Source: Aurora Publicity, Blog Tours
Purchase at: Amazon ◊ Barnes & Noble ◊ Kobo
USA Today and Amazon All-Star best-selling author Kathryn Le Veque.
"Le Veque writes... winning epics...." -- Publisher's Weekly
1271 A.D. - The Wolfe's greatest son is a man known as NIGHTHAWK.
Patrick de Wolfe is every bit his father's son - cunning, intelligent, and ruthless. An enormous man with his father's dark hair and his mother's pale green eyes, he's the man destined to lead William de Wolfe's great legacy. He is so great, in fact, that the king has personally asked for his service, as one of the king's personal body guards. On the eve of Patrick departing for this auspicious assignment, he finds himself caught up in a skirmish along the Scots border.
And a prize lands in his lap that will change his destiny.
A prize in the form of a Scots captive harboring a deadly and important secret, one that could bring war and destruction upon those who shelter her. When Brighton “Bridey” de Favereux is rescued by the powerful English knight, she is taken back to the massive fortress of Questing Castle, seat of the legendary de Wolfe family. Having known nothing but hardship and cruelty her entire life, she is surprised when they are kind to her. The English, who are supposed to be her mortal enemy, are gracious and generous. For the first time, she understands that people can be kind to each other.
And the kindest one of all is the man who saved her.
Some loves are unexpected while others are instantly realized. The love between Patrick and Brighton is something that comes from a deeper place of understanding and attraction, a powerful love that cannot be denied… but it is a love that may cost them both their very lives when Bridey's terrible secret is uncovered.
Excerpt from Nighthawk:
Brighton was miserable. She hung her head, looking at her feet. How can I tell him what I am thinking? How can I confide in him? I will only sound foolish!
“P-please,” she whispered. “There… there is nothing wrong. I….”
He shook her, gently. “No lies,” he snapped softly. “Tell me now or we shall spend the rest of our lives here because I will not let you leave until you tell me. We will become quite hungry and our feet might actually grow into the ground like tree roots, but it does not matter. I am not leaving until you tell me why you are distressed. Do you not trust me enough to tell me?”
Her head came up, then, drawn to him by his attempted humor. “O-of course I trust you,” she insisted softly. “It has nothing to do with trust.”
“Aye, it does, because you will not tell me what has distressed you. I can only assume you do not trust me.”
Brighton shook her head. “I-I do, I swear it,” she said, but it occurred to her that he meant what he said; they weren’t leaving until she told him… something. But what to say? Her stomach was in knots and her breathing was coming in labored gasps. She was going to sound foolish but she had little choice. “I-I… I was thinking that you and Lord Horsden’s daughter made a handsome couple. When you do marry, your wife should be a woman of culture and wealth, for that is what you deserve. I…I suppose I was upset because of my circumstances. I never had the opportunity for culture and wealth but it wasn’t anything I thought of until I came to know something of the world outside of Coldingham. Does that make any sense? It probably sounds foolish. Sister Acha said that my real father is a king, but I do not feel that is true. I will live like a pauper my entire life and seeing you with that wealthy lord’s daughter, it made me realize how different you and I are. And I was simply being foolish in thinking such things; forgive me for running off.”
Patrick let her go. “Is that the truth?”
She nodded, embarrassed, and hung her head again. “Aye.”
Patrick sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall, his gaze fixed on Brighton’s lowered head even though she couldn’t see it. Had she looked up, she would have seen a glimmer of warmth in his eyes that was a glimpse of what he was feeling in his heart. Aye, she made sense to him. More than she realized. Since she was being brave and speaking what was in her heart, he thought that, perhaps, he should, too.
It was time.
“It is strange you should say that, for I was thinking nearly the same thing,” he said softly. “You see, I happen to believe you are the daughter of a king, for only a princess would be so beautiful and so bright as you are. Here I am, the son of a mere war lord, and I was thinking that I was quite beneath you. It is a fear I have had.”
Brighton’s head snapped up, her eyes wide on him. “Y-you? Beneath me?”
He nodded. Then, he folded his enormous arms across his chest, cocking his head as he spoke. “Imagine how men would look up to me with a wife who was a Norse princess,” he said. “Lord Horsden’s daughter doesn’t have a splinter of your beauty or sweetness. I would sooner throw myself on my sword than marry someone like her. But you… I cannot imagine anything finer in this life than being able to tell men that you are my wife. It would make me greatly envied.”
Brighton couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was looking at him with such shock that she almost had a horrified expression. “D-do you mean that?”
“Are you mad?”
He laughed softly, nodding his head. “I am,” he said, sobering. His features suddenly took on an intensity that was difficult to describe. “Exceedingly mad for you. Marry me, Bridey. Marry me and make me the envy of every man.”
Her jaw fell open. “B-but… but you cannot mean that!”
“Of course I do.”
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