Pity that her aim had been poor, but her arms were weary from firing arrows at the enemy. He didn’t scream at the impact, but grunted. The thin head of the shaft pierced through a link of his mail and buried deep in his left shoulder.
Drawing back her arm, she let the arrow fly. Raising her bow, she aimed it at the warrior. Her metal helmet made it difficult to see, but it shielded her identity and protected her head. With trembling hands, she reached over her shoulder and plucked a long, straight arrow from the quiver strapped to her back. He must be stopped else all would be lost. Kerstin’s throat tightened at the grisly scene. As his muscled arms heaved, his shrill war cry vibrated in the air. Blood sprayed across his chain-mailed chest, spattering against a tree trunk to his right. He hacked his way through one and sliced through another. Several of Kerstin’s men surrounded him, seeking to cut him down. Mighty sword gleamed crimson as he thrust and lunged. He wielded his sword with the skill and strength of a berserker.Īs he yelled orders to his men, they obeyed. He stood shoulders above the rest, broader with hardened muscles. Not a dark heathen withįangs and cloven hooves, but a golden warrior, fighting in the thick of battle. Her knees wobbled and her arms shook with fatigue.
Sweat trickled down her neck and forehead. She stood at the edge of the woods and stared at the carnage. A chilling breeze swept the copse and the tall pines surrounding the glade shivered.Ĭold fear washed over Kerstin of Moere. Screams of men vibrated throughout the forest along with the ringing clash of swords. The stench of lifeless bodies filled the early morning air. Published in the United States of America No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.Īll rights reserved. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s This book was a finalist winner in the Orange Rose Contest and also in the Ignite the Flame Contest. Novel, a poignant tale of love, war and learning to trust your heart. Golden Heart winner Leigh Bale pens her second “Perhaps I will beat you after all, woman.” In the shafts of moonlight, Kerstin saw his eyes open and spit flame as he glared at her. Rage rumbled from within Jonas’s chest and he Do you want me to give birth to his son, or yours?” He lay still again and Kerstin persisted in her efforts, unable to resist taunting him. Jonas moved and a murmur of disapproval cameįrom his lips. “Do you want to die, Jonas? If you lie here like a big ox, I will flee to Elezer. Bending low, she placed her lips against his ear and whispered.
Should she run for help? He was so big, she didn’t think she could move him even if she wanted to. He looked so handsome, so innocent in sleep. A rock dug into his chin and she brushed it away. Kneeling beside him, she cursed him as she tried once more to awaken him. If she ran away, her people would be doomed and hate her for it. Even resenting him, she couldn’t stand by and let Jonas suffer. Surely the king wouldn’t blame her if Jonas died.īut she had given her pledge and promised her Though she offered to tend his wound, Jonas refused. Jonas would die if she left him and the king Guilt nibbled at her, holding her in place. She would race back and the king could do nothing to stop her from marrying Elezer. With Jonas in no condition to pursue her. Now Kerstin saw her chance! She could flee,