TBR reviewer: Luta Wolf
For the history buffs out there (I’m including myself in this sentence) this book was a bit like reading a unedited story. It was completely and utterly lacking in accuracy to the time table and country it was set it. This set more with England history than the Scottish Highlands. The clothing, back-ground, and language were completely off.
However if you aren’t interested in historical accuracy or even perhaps able to pretend this took place in England than the books is worth the read for the mystery and vivid details. The characters themselves are pretty good too. Despite the time in which the story took place, Airin is full of spunk and determination. I admit to having a soft spot for Deryll as well. I got emotionally attached to them as the author really put a lot of work into making them interesting and well rounded. As far as mysteries went, while not completely unpredictable it was fun and entertaining. That pretty much describes the book to a T. It’s fun and entertaining, just not very accurate.
"Pray, tell me," he drawled, "have you come to bed me or murder me?" His eyes lit with wicked laughter. "Do not fear. I am prepared for either."
Fury swept through her. "I am no murderess!"
"Then bed me, it is."
Her cheeks flushed hot as he strode toward her.
She retreated another step. "W-what are you doing here?"
He stopped so close, she was forced to angle her head up to meet his gaze.
"Do you not have business elsewhere?" She winced at the squeak in her voice.
"Aye," he replied distractedly.
"What sort of business?"
Deryll reached behind her and lifted her braid over her shoulder. "The kind that does not
"What sort of business does not concern me? Sir Gewain is-"
Deryll's head snapped up. "Nothing I cannot handle," he finished.
The heat in her cheeks spread through her belly as, gaze glued to hers, he lifted the end of her braid to his nose and breathed deeply. Airin's heart pounded. Hands, calloused and brown from years in the sun, held the braid as if it were a fragile flower. He breathed deeply again, as though to inhale her very essence.
"Is there any battle you cannot handle?" she asked.
Deryll shifted his gaze to her face. "I am a man, Airin. No man is invincible."
Her girlhood hero was invincible. The hero who always saved his lady from all harm, who knew when to bestow a kiss, and never pressed her into an uncomfortable situation. This man was anything but those things.
Deryll's gaze dropped to her mouth. Would he kiss her?
"You may come out now, Cerdwin," he said.
Airin blinked, and he raised a brow. The maid stepped from behind the door. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to eavesdrop." She edged toward the hallway.
Airin shot her a glare, then looked back at Deryll. "You knew all along she was there."
"Course he did." Cerdwin backed across the threshold. "'Tis why he has not bedded you."
Airin riveted her gaze onto the maid in time to see the door close behind her. She narrowed her eyes on Deryll. "Step aside."
"You do not wish to be bedded?"
She rolled her eyes and reached to shove him aside. Her palm connected with the hard muscle of his chest. As if made of stone, he didn't move.
Airin yanked her hand back. "Do you intend to force me?" she demanded.
Both his brows rose. "Is that what you wish?"
"You are mad."
"That is no answer."
"What I wish is of no consequence."
"Not so," he replied.
"I fulfilled your condition," he
said. "We have a bargain."
Her gaze rested on the scar running down
his cheek. She fisted her hands at her sides. "Why you?"
genuinely surprised, then laughed. "Who were you expecting?"
you." What was wrong with her? She had turned into a shrew.
but me?" he asked.