The Laird's Lady
August 1307
Married women never had these problems.
Barbarians swarmed at Beaumont's gate, and the unwed daughter of the house was the only person who could lift a finger to stop them. Rosalind of Beaumont pounded her fist in frustration, causing all the miniature flower-filled urns on her worktable to jump.
Where was Gregory Evandale and his promise of marriage when she needed a man to lead her people to battle?
Rosalind's steward burst into the solar, scattering her thoughts. John's sprint across the rushes belied his fifty years as he skidded to a halt a scant step from her. "The brutes demand to speak with the lord of Beaumont, my lady."
"Too bad Beaumont Keep has no lord." Rosalind massaged her throbbing temple, willing an idea to manifest. It was a well-kept secret that the ruler of Beaumont was not a son, but a daughter. After the fire that had devastated their lands three short years ago, Rosalind's loyal people had helped her perpetuate the notion that her brother had not perished in the blaze along with their parents. The guise had been a matter of safety until she could one day petition the king to wed her fath ... read full excerpt from The Laird's Lady ebook
