There's a Kindle Countdown Deal going on just now for Christine Elaine Black's novel A Rose for lancaster.
From 8th Feb to 14th you can get it for only 99¢ on Amazon.com. (Sorry, offer not available on other Amazon sites)
The cover alone persuades me... but here are some more details to persuade you...
A
Rose for Lancaster by
Christine Elaine Black
A York woman and a Lancaster
man are forced into a marriage contract to please
King Henry VII. Blanche
Langley is swept into Henry's ambitious maneuvers to secure the throne.
Tensions flare as a plot to overthrow the king is discovered. As the York forces gather to
make one last effort to win the throne will Blanche
betray her king and her husband?
~
Blanche ~ July 1486
I had
never before rejoiced upon hearing of a man’s death but I prayed for the Lord’s
forgiveness. Baron Somerset was taken from this earth by the will of God, and
my good fortune merely caused by happenstance and not my fervent wishing. My
betrothed died a valiant death—so they said—fighting the pox.
As I
twirled aimlessly around my chamber the door opened and my maid entered. A sour
look on her face rebuked my unseemly behavior.
“Lady
Blanche, a woman in your position wears mourning clothes and reflects upon her
loss,” Gerda muttered.
“I
shall not! Baron Somerset was a complete and utter stranger to me. Worse, he
belonged to the house of Lancaster
and I will not mourn for their side.” I squared my shoulders. “I wish to savor
my release from an unbearable match to a lowly nobleman.”
Gerda
wisely ignored me.
Word
of Somerset’s death reached my ears this day, but King Henry would have long
known of his distant kinsman’s demise and my fate rested in the hands of this
new king. One I considered a pretender to the throne.
“I
choose to enjoy this unexpected freedom and hope the king is occupied with his
queen, in expectation of a male heir for England. Mayhap, I will wish
fervently for his success,” I laughed, the irony lost on Gerda.
“The
country will know in a few months whether or not we have a new prince.” Gerda’s
face brightened upon mention of the royal baby.
“I
hear the king plans to name the child Arthur, and speaks of Camelot reborn.” I
smiled at my luck, escaping marriage to an old Lancastrian lord, who may well
be descended from Edward the third as I myself descended from the same glorious
monarch, but he was the last of the available Somerset men and I envisioned Henry’s
difficulty at finding a suitable replacement.
Camelot!
He imagined himself the father of another legendary monarch, to be celebrated
for a thousand years, I scoffed silently. This new king of England had
grand ideas of himself and his court. Did the York queen, Elizabeth, approve her husband’s
schemes of marriage amongst the warring cousins? The house of Lancaster
had won the battle for now but I intended to discreetly wage war on behalf of
my York
cousins.
“Fetch
my yellow dress for tonight. I wish to be merry in honor of my father and
brother—God rest their souls.” They died last year fighting for Richard’s
cause, doomed to failure from the beginning.
I prayed
for a man to appear, a York,
to marry me and give my family male heirs. That would take a miracle as every
eligible York
languished in prison or hid overseas, waiting for the right moment to raise
their swords in opposition to Henry Tudor. Only traitorous cousins remained,
wheedling their way into the new court.
At
dinner a musician played a tune on a small pipe and the feast of salted fish,
cheese, and hard bread came into the great hall on a large platter duly
presented to me before my household. I’d given instructions for the best ale to
flow freely and gazed over those seated at the tables, all loyal retainers of
my father. They smiled and chatted with one another, occasionally throwing a
glance in my direction, content with the change in my fortunes. Even though I
bordered on the grand age of twenty-five, my kinsmen preferred to see me a maid
for life than wedded to a rival English faction.
George
Cooper, a local man, stood up and raised his mug. “To ‘er ladyship’s good
‘ealth.”
A
cheer went up, laughter ensued followed by a few ribald jokes. I cared not to
worry over their amusing comments of my three failed betrothals. I carried a
reputation of ill luck. A man betrothed to me had less than a year to live. Somerset wasn’t the only
man to die thus named. I had buried three potential husbands, though to be fair
the first two were killed nobly in the services of Edward and Richard. Mayhap,
our dear Lord and Savior planned a lonely, childless life for me. The thought
of taking the vows of a nun appealed to me the older I grew. If I wrote to Elizabeth and begged her
to allow my retirement to a convent I might delay further talk of wedlock and
wait out Henry’s reign in religious contemplation.
My
thoughts traveled along this path until I heard a commotion at the far end of
the hall as my household men jostled a group of strangers dressed in traveling
clothes stained with mud. My immediate
thought was to rush out of the hall to my rooms but as head of the house at Langley
Manor I must deal with the arrival of newcomers. The steward talked with hasty
gestures designed to delay the men, but they pushed past him and strode to the
front of the hall.
I
rose off my chair, regretting my choice of attire. The men looked roughened by
hard riding and I had no wish to attract attention. They paused in a semi
circle and shuffled their feet.
“What’s
the meaning of this intrusion?”
A
young man broke through the line of ruffians, boldly staring at my person. The
sight of his proud stance, even though his dress left much to be desired,
irritated me.
“We
seek the mistress of the house.”
I
flinched. He wore the livery of Lancaster
and carried a missive bearing an official seal sending a shudder through my
bones.
“You
carry a message for Lady Langley?”
The
young man held the parchment tightly. “It must be delivered in person.”
I
dreaded the content of the letter. King Henry may use his power to remove me
from my home and pass ownership to another noble, driving me into destitution.
“Follow
me, if you will.” We moved through the passageway leading to my father’s
private room, used for dealing in estate matters. My steward discouraged the
others from following and I faced my unwelcome guest with impatience.
“I am
Lady Langley.”
My
hand reached for the letter but he eyed me dubiously and refused to hand over
the message.
“I
seek the mistress of Langley.
The elder woman betrothed to Baron Somerset.” The strength and timbre of the
voice belied his years, and cloaked in confidence his bearing held effortless
grace. Steel gray eyes met mine without a shred of humility.
“Give
me the message.” His hesitation irritated me into sharp speech, a thing I did
when vexed by servants. “Now, damn you!” I tore open the missive and read it
twice before laughing in contempt.
“Somerset is reported
dead. I can no more marry him than I can marry Richard of England.”
“You
are Lady Langley?” The cheeky lout stared at me with a curious quirk on his
lips.
“I am
Blanche Langley, mistress of this house.”
“Indeed,”
he mused.
“The
king orders me to marry Somerset
within the month. Does he not know the man died?” I shrugged in confusion.
“I am
Giles Beaufort, heir to Somerset.”
About Christine Elaine Black:
Christine,
born in Scotland, currently
resides in Ontario, Canada.
Her
favourite stories to write are romantic fiction, especially with an ancient
Roman or Tudor theme, filled with heart-stopping heroes and page-turning
situations.
Amazon bio page: http://www.amazon.com/Christine-Elaine-Black/e/B00AERZKPO/
A Rose for Lancaster: http://amzn.com/B00DQ25WDE
Twitter: https://twitter.com/@Elaine20Black
Best wishes with your Kindle Countdown Deal Christine, and thank you for featuring it with me today.
Slainthe!
Great to visit Scotland, Nancy. I grew up in Lanarkshire and miss all my family, friends and the gorgeous scenery and greenery.
ReplyDeleteThanks for me hosting today. :):)