Son of an Earl

Book 5: Brotherhood of the Border

by Cecelia Mecca

Genres: Literary Fiction; Ancient World Romance

Synopsis

They disliked each other from first glance.

Sir Hugh is immediately wary of the mysterious woman who lurks in the shadows at his cousin’s wedding. He would not allow anyone to put his family’s safety at risk, not even a beautiful Italian-born Frenchwoman whose obstinance Hugh finds strangely intriguing.

When he finally learns Lady Criseyde’s true purpose, his attraction for her only intensifies.

Now they are working together, his desire for her proving nearly as dangerous as their mission as he escorts her north into the Scotland borderlands. By the time Hugh and Criseyde reach the outlaw William Wallace’s camp, Hugh is nearly willing to follow his brother’s foolish path toward love.

Until disaster strikes.

Hugh must rely not only on his training as the son of an earl but also on the lessons he learned from his father's old friends— the infamous border reivers—if he is to save Cressida.

In truth, if he is to save himself.

 

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Release date: August 30, 2022

Publisher: Altiora Press

Print pages: 212

Sample

Bramton Castle, Northumbria, 1301
“You are unusually quiet, cousin.” Conall leaned against the wall behind him and Hugh, goblet in hand, looking as pleased
as one would expect of a man who’d just married the woman he loved.
Hugh nurtured his own goblet, enjoying the hard-won festivities as much as any. But thoughts of the woman he’d spied
earlier continued to plague him.
“There is but one reason you neither smile nor take Isolda’s maid to your chamber. Tell me,” Conall pressed.
Hugh did not wish to burden his cousin on his wedding day, so he distracted him instead. “As I’ve said, my affair with the
maid has run its course.”
“There are other women here, many of whom look your way even now. The Hugh I know does not scowl in the corner with
such possibilities before him. He runs with reivers, angers his parents, and laughs even when everyone around him frowns.”
“I will not dispute your words, cousin. As for the women. . . they are noble. Virgins. None of whom I would dare touch in
your wife’s hall.” He corrected himself. “Your hall.”
Despite his cousin’s Scots origins, he was now wed to an Englishwoman and would rule Bramton alongside her.
“The one smiling at you from beside the musicians. She is a widow.”
And a pretty one at that. He sighed, uninterested.
“Since you will not cease your matchmaking, and I would prefer a new topic, it is the hooded woman my father spotted
earlier whom I think of now.”
Conall’s brows raised. “Indeed?”
“For no other reason than she hides her face. When I thought to approach her, the woman disappeared. Do you not think it
odd?”
“That she was hooded or that she disappeared?”
“Both. My father made some inquiries and discovered that her name is Lady Criseyde di Vilardino, from Venice
apparently. She is a guest of Bramton’s priest.”
“A nun, perhaps?”
“Nay,” he replied, taking a sip of wine. At Conall’s concerned expression, he sought to reassure him. Isolda would not be
pleased that he distracted his cousin on his wedding day. “Do not give the matter another thought. I am being as fanciful as a
squire on the eve before he earns his spurs.”
Conall smiled. “I remember the day clearly when you earned yours.”
Their families, once bitter enemies, were now as intertwined as any along the border. When Hugh’s uncle married into
Clan Kerr more than thirty years ago, he had sparked the beginnings of an allegiance that now formed a corridor of safe passage
in the region from England to Scotland. With this marriage, their Brotherhood had only become more powerful.
“No doubt you also remember what happened later that eve?”
Conall pretended to think back to that day when they had been but young men. “Nay, I do not recall.” As his cousin had
lost his virginity to a young English widow, Hugh doubted his memory lapsed so thoroughly. But since this was Conall’s
wedding feast, he would not force the memory from him. “How long will you stay?”
“I plan to return to Kenshire on the morrow with my parents to prepare for the Northumbria Council.”
“You’ve a king to pacify thanks to me,” Conall said apologetically.
Hugh slapped his cousin on his shoulder as he caught Isolda’s eye. She looked for her new husband, and he would
relinquish Conall to her.
“No more talk of politics tonight. I know that look well.” He indicated Lady Isolda. “Your wife awaits.”
“I’ve a surprise for her,” Conall admitted. “We’ve been long enough in the hall,” he said, finishing the remainder of his
wine and handing the goblet to Hugh.
“Am I a serving maid now?” he asked as Conall walked away. His cousin lifted his arm in parting, not bothering to answer.
The moment he did so, Hugh turned away, dropping his smile, and once again looked through the hall.
He should forget the woman, do as Conall advised, and ask the blonde widow for a dance. But there had been something
about her that Hugh could not dismiss.
A hooded woman, alone, unescorted. On its own, perhaps not enough to concern him. But he could not dismiss the prickle
that rose up his back as he watched Lady Criseyde di Vilardino in the shadows.
His decision made, Hugh placed both goblets on a nearby trestle table, and began to move toward her. ...