His Lady of Castlemora

His Lady of Castlemora
Joanna Fulford

THE BETROTHAL BARGAIN The infamous Lord Ban has lost all in the Northumbrian conflict, and now this battle-hardened warrior must turn his thoughts to producing an heir. But only the very desperate would align her fate with such a man…Almost broken by the violent ravings of her first husband, the recently widowed but ever beautiful Lady Isabelle is left with no dowry and no hope for the future. Believed to be barren, she is forced into a secret betrothal to the powerful Lord. On one condition – she must be with child before the wedding vows are spoken…

Praise for Joanna Fulford:

‘Fulford’s story of lust and love set in the Dark Ages

is reminiscent of Woodiwiss’ The Flame and the Flower. A suspenseful plot, well-developed characters and a passionate romance combine to keep readers engaged from start to finish. The authentic depiction of the historical setting adds to the enjoyment of this short but evenly paced story.’ —RT Book Reviews on THE VIKING’S DEFIANT BRIDE

‘The sequel to THE VIKING’S DEFIANT BRIDE

is a well-crafted portrait of the era, combining

strong characters with the classic romance elements

of a battle-of-wills love story. Fulford’s keen awareness

of the time period allows her heroine to be

a woman of her time as well as a character

who appeals to modern sensibilities.’

—RT Book Reviews on THE VIKING’S TOUCH

Her heartbeat quickened. The courteous greeting was at distinct variance with the boldness of his manner and his present state of undress.

Darting a swift look around her, she became more acutely aware of her present isolation and the remoteness of the stream. If she screamed no one would hear. Besides, it was a mistake to show fear.

Ban saw the dainty chin tilt. Far from being embarrassed or afraid, the look in her eyes was bold—challenging, even. It satisfied him. His gaze travelled downwards, mentally removing the cloth again. When she saw this, the colour rose in her face.

‘How long have you been watching me?’

‘Long enough.’

The blush deepened and the hazel eyes sparkled with anger. ‘How dare you spy on me?’

‘Unforgivable, I know,’ he admitted, ‘but impossible to look away.’

About the Author

JOANNA FULFORD is a compulsive scribbler with a passion for literature and history, both of which she has studied to postgraduate level. Other countries and cultures have always exerted a fascination, and she has travelled widely, living and working abroad for many years. However, her roots are in England, and are now firmly established in the Peak District, where she lives with her husband, Brian. When not pressing a hot keyboard she likes to be out on the hills, either walking or on horseback. However, these days equestrian activity is confined to sedate hacking rather than riding at high speed towards solid obstacles. Visit Joanna’s website at www.joannafulford.co.uk

Recent titles by the same author:

THE VIKING’S DEFIANT BRIDE

(part of the Mills & Boon Presents … anthology, featuring talented new authors)

THE WAYWARD GOVERNESS

THE LAIRD’S CAPTIVE WIFE

THE COUNTERFEIT CONDESA

THE VIKING’S TOUCH

THE CAGED COUNTESS

REDEMPTION OF A FALLEN WOMAN

(part of Castonbury Park Regency mini-series)

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

His Lady of

Castlemora

Joanna Fulford

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Prologue

Isabelle threaded her way among the trees and came at length to the wall at the far end of the orchard. It afforded a fair view of the wood and the hills above Castlemora, though in truth it was not these she saw. All she could think about was the last interview with her mother-in-law …

‘Had you fulfilled your wifely duty and produced an heir, you would have retained your place among us. As it is, my son’s death removes any requirement for you to remain.’

Isabelle stared at her in stunned disbelief. Alistair Neil’s demise in a hunting accident had been shock enough, but this was beyond everything. ‘But this is my home.’

If she hoped to appeal to Lady Gruoch’s compassion the notion was wide of the mark. Theblue eyes regarding her now were cold, the stern face pitiless.

‘Not any longer. A barren wife has only one future open to her: to take the veil and disappear from the world of men.’

Isabelle’s stomach knotted. ‘It is not my fault that I am childless. My late husband must share the responsibility for that.’

The furrows in Gruoch’s brow deepened. ‘How dare you attempt to cover your own failings by besmirching the name of the dead? My son was eager for an heir. I have good reason to know that he never neglected his duty to you.’

Isabelle’s hands clenched at her sides. So they had discussed this behind her back. She could well imagine what spiteful and lying tales her late husband had told to cover his own ineptitude. Mortification vied with anger.

‘Since he was assiduous in undertaking his part,’ Gruoch continued, ‘it is only reasonable to expect that you should have done yours.’

Isabelle bit back the heated reply that leapt to her tongue. Alistair was dead; what use to recount the embarrassed fumbling that had blighted the marriage bed in the early part of their relationship; fumbling that became frustration and, eventually, violence when he took out his failure on her?

Seeing her hesitation Gruoch nodded. ‘Inote that you do not deny it. The shame is doubly yours. You were married a year. Any self-respecting wife would have a babe in arms and another in her belly by now.’

‘I wanted that as much as my husband did. How can you doubt it?’