She walked back to him, handing him the reins to her horse as her smile broadened. She took his hand and swung herself up onto his mount, behind him. He looked ahead toward Morency, where even now the household prepared to greet them.

It felt like home. For the first time, it felt like he belonged.

“Soon,” she said, a sigh of a word. She leaned forward into him, keeping his hand in hers, her voice warm at his ear. “But first, bring me home.”

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The End

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If you’d like to read an excerpt of the next book in the series, Fair, Bright, and Terrible, just turn the page.

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For more information and to sign up for the Elizabeth Kingston mailing list, please visit ElizabethKingstonBooks.com.

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Other works by Elizabeth Kingston include:

Welsh Blades Series

#1: The King’s Man

#2: Fair, Bright, and Terrible

#3: Desire Lines

Ladies of Scandal Series

#1: A Fallen Lady

#2: House of Cads

In collaboration with Susanna Malcolm

The Misadventures of a Titian-Haired Goddess and an Outrageous Hellion

Excerpt, Book #2: Fair, Bright, and Terrible

Chapter One

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It all ended in cold flesh. This prince, the war, and every life: it ended in cold flesh, no matter how hot the blood that had once pounded through it. She had always known this, of course. But there is knowing a thing, and then there is feeling the truth of it cut you open and close around your heart.

Eluned had come to London when winter still held, before the thaw rendered the sight more gruesome, to behold the face of her own defeat. She wanted to look upon it before there was nothing but a skull on a spike above the city. But it was too high to see much and the flesh was discolored, his features obscured by his tangled hair. Even still it almost made her wish she could weep, to see this bloodied scrap of Llewellyn, last true Prince of Wales.

It took only a moment to close her eyes in a brief prayer of thanksgiving that God had taken Llewellyn’s beloved wife first. King Edward was the kind of man who might have forced that poor girl to look at this ugly trophy. Behold, he would say. This is the end that awaits my enemies.

Eluned pulled her hood closer around her face, staring up at the lifeless eyes. This might have been her own end. It might have been her daughter’s.

“Better we are gone from here before any remark how long you look at him, my lady.” It was Tegwarad who spoke low, his eyes scanning the half-empty street while his hand rested carefully near his dagger. He was one of her guard. He was Welsh, but smart enough not to speak it here.