The Lady and the Falconer (44 page)

Logan would ask for Castle Fulton, Solace knew. It was what he wanted most of all. And he should have it. He deserved it. A strange, melancholy feeling settled over her.

Logan’s gaze swept his men, who smiled at him in triumph. Finally, his stare settled on Solace.

“Lord Farindale,” Logan said. “There is only one thing I want.”

Solace bowed her head in acceptance.

Logan continued. “I wish to have your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Solace’s eyes widened in surprise and her head snapped up, her gaze locking with Logan’s. A cry of joy bubbled from her lips.

“I should have guessed as much,” Farindale said. “You have my best wishes.”

Solace ran forward, throwing herself into Logan’s arms. He easily caught her, spinning her around, laughing. When her feet hit the ground, she reached up to press a kiss to his lips.

The men chortled, and murmurs of approval echoed through the chapel.

“Of course,” Farindale added, stilling the joyous moment, “with my daughter’s hand come many responsibilities.”

Logan and Solace turned to him. Solace noticed the sternness in her father’s eyes, and wariness gripped her.

“I’m away at war much of the time. I need someone to protect my daughter, someone to look after her. But I also need someone to see to my lands, my castle. It bequeaths me to have it be my heir.”

“Oh, Logan,” Solace gasped. She turned her gaze up into his joyful face with more passion and relief and gratitude -- and love -- than she had ever felt before.

Epilogue

T
he wind blew Logan’s dark hair about his face as he stood before Fulton’s main gate. He watched with a growing sadness as his brother climbed onto his horse. The falcon on Logan’s shoulder fluffed its black feathers and anxiously shifted its stance.

Peter adjusted the patch over his eye before reaching down from his mount and grasping his brother’s arm. “I wish you all the best, brother,” he said.

“I wish you would change your mind,” Logan told him. “You’re more than welcome at Castle Fulton.” Logan paused. “Now that I found you, I don’t want to lose you again.”

Peter studied his brother for a moment. “I think it’s time I see the world,” he finally said, turning his gaze down the road before him. He glanced back once to look at Solace who was leaning against the castle gate, waiting for Logan. He quickly looked away from her. “I can’t stay.”

Logan’s lips set in a thin line. He nodded once. “Good luck,” he said.

“And to you.” Peter then spurred his horse. The animal moved off, trotting down the road that led to the village. And to the wide world beyond.

Logan watched his brother for a long moment. He wondered if Peter had felt this way all those years ago when watching him ride out of the castle to see Farindale’s army. Did he think he would never see me again? Logan wondered.

Solace joined him, and Logan turned pained eyes to her. She already said her good-byes to Peter, and he saw the ache in her gaze mirrored the emotions he felt. She reached up and caressed his cheek.

Suddenly, the falcon on Logan’s shoulder took flight. It soared high into the air, its magnificent wings spread wide to catch the air currents swirling above the castle walls. The bird circled Logan and Solace once. Then a gust of wind seemed to catch it and propel it toward Peter. Logan watched in awe as the falcon circled his brother, before diving to hang in the air just above his head.

Peter swatted at it once. The falcon easily moved out of Peter’s reach, then returned to hover over him again.

Logan looked at Solace, and they exchanged an amazed glance.

“Looks like your guardian angel’s found another troubled soul to look after,” Solace said.

Logan cast a wistful gaze after the falcon.

“You’re going to miss that bird,” Solace said.

“No, I’m not,” Logan objected.

A knowing smile spread across Solace’s face. “Yes, you are.”

“No. I’m not,” Logan insisted.

“Yes, you are.” Solace laughed.

Logan stalked her and captured her wrist, pulling her to him. He stared down into her beautiful green eyes. “I am not.”

Solace smiled.

Logan pressed his lips to hers, stealing her grin. “I’m not,” he whispered.

Solace stood on the tips of her toes and kissed the corners of his lips, his chin, his nose and eyes. “Yes, you are,” Solace whispered huskily, kissing him fully on the lips.

“All right,” he agreed, holding her to his heart. “I am. A little bit.” He would grant her anything just to see her smile.

Solace hugged Logan tightly, and he gazed down at her with adoration. He was the happiest man in all the land. He had everything he had ever wanted. And something he had never dreamed of... his Solace.

The End

Thank You

Dear Reader –

Thank you for choosing Solace and Logan’s story to read. It was exciting to live through a castle under siege and follow the lady and the falconer on their life-changing adventure. I hope you enjoyed their adventure as much as I did and shared in the lady and the falconer’s love for each other. I hope the black falcon is still circling the heavens above, watching over us all…

Please keep an eye out for my other books:

THE ANGEL AND THE PRINCE
- free preview included below!

A KNIGHT OF HONOR
- free preview included below!

MIDNIGHT SHADOW

CHAMPION OF THE HEART

And my novella:

THE BRIDE AND THE BRUTE

I hope to entertain you with new exciting tales in the near future.

Laurel O’Donnell

http://www.laurel-odonnell.com

About the Author

Laurel O’Donnell has won numerous awards for her works, including the Holt Medallion Award for Best Medieval Novel for A Knight of Honor, the Happily Ever After contest for The Angel’s Assassin, and the Indiana’s Golden Opportunity contest for Immortal Death. The Angel and the Prince was nominated by the Romance Writers of America for their prestigious Golden Heart award. O’Donnell lives in Illinois with her four cherished children, her beloved husband and her five cats. She finds precious time every day to escape into the medieval world and bring her characters to life in her writing.

Official Website:
www.laurel-odonnell.com

Facebook Fan Page:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Laurel-ODonnell/150078331715261

The Angel and the Prince Preview

The Angel and the Prince

In this exciting medieval romance, the French lady knight known as the Angel of Death wages a battle of wills and desires against her dreaded enemy -- the English warrior known as the Prince of Darkness.

Ryen De Bouriez is a French warrior, dedicated to protecting her country against the hated English. In place of glittering ball gowns, she wears shining armor. Instead of practicing the gentler arts, she wields a sword. Those who whisper her name in fear and awe call her the Angel of Death.

Bryce Princeton is the Prince of Darkness, an English knight sent by his king to find and destroy their most hated adversary -- the Angel of Death. Little does he know that his enemy is no man at all, but a beautiful woman who will challenge his heart and honor at every turn.

Forced to choose between love and honor, the Angel and the Prince wage a battle of wills that challenges everything they have ever believed in.

The Angel and the Prince - Prologue

France, 1410

T
he choir of voices ascended to the far corners of the cathedral, where sculptured angels listened with somber faces to the Latin words. Shining white marble pillars spiraled down to the steps of the great altar. At the top stair stood King Charles VI. Behind him stood eight small boys dressed in immaculate white robes, each holding a red velvet pillow with golden tassels at each corner. Upon every silky velvet pillow there rested a resplendent sword. Above and behind the boys, golden statues of saints stretched out their cold arms in welcome and forgiveness with unseeing eyes.

The king shifted his regal stance, his gaze locked on the tall wooden doors at the back of the church. He knew eight young men waited anxiously outside, their breath tight in their chests, their palms slick with nervous sweat. Each one would enter as a squire filled with a boy’s apprehension, and each one would leave as a knight of the realm filled with a warrior’s pride.

One of the banners caught his eye. It was for Ryen De Bouriez, the third son of Baron Jean Claude De Bouriez. King Charles scanned the mass of people before him until they came to rest on two men – the elder De Bouriez brothers. They were tall, even by knightly standards. Lucien was fair; his honeyed hair, blue eyes, and boyish looks were rumored to have cost more than one maiden her virtue. Andre was dark, with chestnut eyes and a heart of gold. Both were skilled warriors, and this pleased the king, for he knew Ryen would make an excellent addition to his troops. He studied the brothers closely. They shifted from foot to foot nervously; even Andre, who was usually so calm, seemed unsettled. The king frowned. Perhaps the two giants were uncomfortable with the civil surroundings and were eager to be out of the church. King Charles sympathized. The De Bouriezes were, after all, known for their prowess in battle, not their sociability.

The king glanced over row upon row of nobles in their elegant satins and velvets. The Countess of Burgundy was there. Not far from her, the flamboyant golden caul headdress of the Duchess of Orleans caught his eye. Slowly, his brow creased into a frown as he finished surveying the attending nobility. Where was Ryen’s father?

The choir of voices that had filled the chamber suddenly ended, their last echoes resonating throughout the cathedral until they slipped away into nothingness.

Glancing toward the trumpeters awaiting his signal in the balcony, King Charles nodded. When they put the long golden horns to their lips, the triumphant music began. All eyes turned to the heavy oak doors at the back of the church as they slowly creaked open.

Eight squires advanced down the long carpeted aisle, one behind the other.

Sunlight streamed in from the stained glass windows, reflecting brilliantly off the shining silver-and-gold plate mail of the approaching men. King Charles squinted as a ray of light shone in his eyes. He tried to be a fair man, judging all men equally, but he found himself anxious to see Ryen De Bouriez, around whom so much controversy swirled. The first time his name had reached the king’s ears, it was with the capture of Castle Picardy, the feat that had earned him his knighthood. King Charles had heard the same story three times, and with each telling Ryen’s achievements had seemed to grow until they were of Herculean proportions. Since then, the name Ryen De Bouriez had arisen time and time again in casual conversation. The man’s strategic maneuvers were ingenious.