THE AWAKENING_A Medieval Romance Read online

  THE AWAKENING

  Book Seven: Age of Faith

  Tamara Leigh

  Contents

  Title Page

  Also by Tamara Leigh

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  The Raveling: Book Eight

  Also by Tamara Leigh

  About the Author

  THE AWAKENING

  Book Seven in the Age Of Faith series

  TAMARA LEIGH

  USA Today Best-Selling Author

  From USA Today Bestselling author, Tamara Leigh, the seventh book in the AGE OF FAITH series—featuring Lady Laura Middleton of THE YIELDING and Sir Lothaire Soames of THE VEXING.

  FAR BETTER TO LOVE WITHOUT PROFIT…

  Even if she must sell herself in marriage to the highest bidder, Lady Laura Middleton is determined to provide her daughter a home and protector. But when Queen Eleanor presents her cousin with four suitors, among them is one who believes Laura betrayed him ten years past. Despite her attempts to discourage his pursuit, he is determined to have her for the dowry needed to save his lands. Should he prevail, how is she to shield her daughter from the enemy who lurks within his walls? And what of her heart? If she reveals the truth of her betrayal, might he love her again?

  …THAN LOVE NOT AND REAP BITTERNESS

  Beware the Delilah, my son. Beware the Jezebel—advice Baron Lothaire Soames should have heeded as a young man. Now in need of funds, he faces marriage to the woman he lost to scandal. Though he vows to find another way to return prosperity to his lands, his former betrothed proves his only hope and he grudgingly vies to become her worthiest suitor—only to be struck by how little it takes his heart to pick up where it left off. Can he forgive what cannot be forgotten? More, will she forever yearn for the man who fathered her child?

  For new releases and special promotions, subscribe to Tamara Leigh’s mailing list: www.TamaraLeigh.com

  Also by Tamara Leigh

  CLEAN READ HISTORICAL ROMANCE

  THE FEUD: A Medieval Romance Series

  Baron Of Godsmere: Book One

  Baron Of Emberly: Book Two

  Baron of Blackwood: Book Three

  LADY: A Medieval Romance Series

  Lady At Arms: Book One

  Lady Of Eve: Book Two

  BEYOND TIME: A Medieval Time Travel Romance Series

  Dreamspell: Book One

  Lady Ever After: Book Two

  STAND-ALONE Medieval Romance Novels

  Lady Of Fire

  Lady Of Conquest

  Lady Undaunted

  Lady Betrayed

  INSPIRATIONAL HISTORICAL ROMANCE

  AGE OF FAITH: A Medieval Romance Series

  The Unveiling: Book One

  The Yielding: Book Two

  The Redeeming: Book Three

  The Kindling: Book Four

  The Longing: Book Five

  The Vexing: Book Six

  The Awakening: Book Seven

  The Raveling: Book Eight (Spring/Summer 2018)

  INSPIRATIONAL CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

  HEAD OVER HEELS: Stand-Alone Romance Collection

  Stealing Adda

  Perfecting Kate

  Splitting Harriet

  Faking Grace

  SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT: A Contemporary Romance Series

  Leaving Carolina: Book One

  Nowhere, Carolina: Book Two

  Restless in Carolina: Book Three

  OUT-OF-PRINT GENERAL MARKET REWRITES

  Warrior Bride 1994: Bantam Books (Lady At Arms)

  *Virgin Bride 1994: Bantam Books (Lady Of Eve)

  Pagan Bride 1995: Bantam Books (Lady Of Fire)

  Saxon Bride 1995: Bantam Books (Lady Of Conquest)

  Misbegotten 1996: HarperCollins (Lady Undaunted)

  Unforgotten 1997: HarperCollins (Lady Ever After)

  Blackheart 2001: Dorchester Leisure (Lady Betrayed)

  *Virgin Bride is the sequel to Warrior Bride; Pagan Pride and Saxon Bride are stand-alone novels

  www.TamaraLeigh.com

  THE AWAKENING Copyright © 2018 by Tammy Schmanski, P.O. Box 1298, Goodlettsville, TN 37070, [email protected]

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogues are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-942326-29-8

  All rights reserved. This book is a copyrighted work and no part of it may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or any information storage and retrieval system) without permission in writing from the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the author’s permission is illegal and punishable by law. Thank you for supporting authors’ rights by purchasing only authorized editions.

  Cover Design: Ravven

  Prologue

  Barony of Owen

  Spring, 1152

  Beware the Delilah, my son. Beware the Jezebel.

  That warning again, ever near though it did not belong in the space between this young woman and him. She was no Delilah. No Jezebel. Were she, his mother would not have chosen her to wed the heir of Lexeter.

  She was pure, younger than he, and only pretty enough to please so he did not stray from vows exchanged a year hence when she attained her fifteenth year and he his nineteenth. Only pretty enough to ensure those who sought to make a cuckold of him were not overly tempted to make a harlot of her.

  He nodded.

  She laughed. “If you are done conversing with yourself, Lord Soames…” She leapt in front of him and danced backward to accommodate his stride. “…mayhap you would like to converse with me.”

  Lothaire scowled amid embarrassment warming his face. “You are too expressive, Lady Laura.”

  She arched eyebrows above eyes so dark they might haunt did they not sparkle like stars on a moonless night. “You make that sound a bad thing. Fie on you! I shall not be ashamed I am pleased to see you again.” She bobbed her head forward. “And more so in the absence of your mother.”

  He halted. “What is wrong with my mother? You do not like her?”

  She stilled her own feet, clapped a hand over her mouth, and smiled on either side of it.

  The sight of her—so lovely and happy—made his heart convulse. And stirred his body as it should not. “Lady Laura!”

  She dropped her hand but not her smile. “Do not take offense, Lord Soames. I did not say I do not like her, severe though she is. I am simply
pleased to be alone with you.”

  Only possible because the Lady of Lexeter had taken ill. Despite his mother’s attempt to sit the saddle, they had barely gained the drawbridge before she became so light of head she had to accept he alone would journey to visit his betrothed. Lothaire had been secretly heartened, her constant attendance making him feel like a boy—and appear one.

  “As we are to wed,” Lady Laura continued, “we ought to know each other better, and now we can.” She threw her arms wide, dropped her head back, and whirled. “’Tis a beautiful day to fall in love!”

  Appalled yet entranced, he stared. Such frivolity had not been apparent six months past when his mother accompanied him to the barony of Owen to determine if the girl fostered by Lady Maude D’Arci would make a suitable wife.

  For hours, the young lady who was to bring a generous dowry to the marriage had sat quietly with hands folded and slippered feet tight against each other, speaking only when spoken to. She had seemed shy, and only twice had he caught her looking at him. What had happened these past months to make her think it appropriate to behave in this manner? And to speak of love!

  She ceased whirling, gave a great sigh. “I will make you talk to me, Lord Soames. I vow I shall! And you will laugh, as I know you wish to do.”

  “My lady!”

  She held up a hand. “If we are to wed, you must accept that though I shall be the proper and gracious noblewoman in the company of others, when ’tis but you and me, I shall be… Well, I shall be me, as I would have you be you. Now the question is”—she stepped nearer, tilted her head—“who are you?”

  He could hardly breathe for how close she stood. More, for how much he wanted to wrap his arms around her and match his mouth to hers.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I wait.”

  He swallowed loudly, said tightly, “I am your betrothed, the man for whom you will bear children and keep a good household.”

  She groaned. “That is not who you are. Lady Maude assured me ’tis not.”

  “Lady Maude?”

  “She said once you are away from your mother, you will not be dull as I fear—”

  “I am not dull!”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I believe what I see and feel, not merely what is told me. So show me, Lord Soames, the life we share will be blessed with far more laughter than tears.”

  Again, he stared. Again, his body stirred.

  She swung away. “Chase me!”

  “What?”

  “I wish to be chased,” she called over her shoulder. “And caught.” Hitching up her skirts, she ran, unbound hair flying out behind her, sunlight gliding over strands of red amid brown.

  “This is unseemly, Lady Laura!”

  More laughter, but not mocking. It called to the boy in him he had thought shut away. Still, he held his feet to the beaten path that led to the pond she told lay just beyond the castle walls.

  That had been his first mistake, allowing her to persuade him to leave the garden. And his second mistake would be to give chase. But she grew so distant she would soon go from sight.

  A lady alone in the wood. His lady.

  He gripped his sword hilt and ran on long muscled legs. And she made it even easier for him to overtake her by staying just enough ahead to reach the bank of the promised pond.

  She spun, propped her hands on her hips, and with an open-mouthed smile, said, “Methinks Lady Maude is right. You are not dull.”

  He should have drawn up far short of her, but his feet carried him to within arm’s reach. “Lady, we must return to the castle.”

  “Aye, but first…” She stepped near and laced slender fingers with his that had never seemed so large and clumsy. Before he could correct her brazen familiarity, she turned and settled her shoulder against his. “Look, Lothaire. Is it not lovely?”

  She was lovely. Not simply pretty as was required.

  “I am fond of this place,” she said as he followed her gaze around the pond. “When I was little, Lady Maude brought her son and me here on the hottest days and we played and swam.”

  “You speak of Simon?” he said to distract himself from the soft hand he should not be holding. He knew it was Lady Maude and her departed husband’s only child she spoke of. Though he liked the lady’s stepson who was now Baron of Owen, there was something amiss about Joseph D’Arci’s half-brother—something beyond the feeling Simon disliked Lady Laura’s betrothed. Their one encounter this day was brief as the young man prepared to return to the lord from whom he received knighthood training, but it had disturbed. And Lothaire was strangely relieved when Simon departed two hours past.

  He frowned. “Surely you do not still swim here with Lady Maude’s son?”

  Lady Laura looked up. “I do not. ’Twould be improper now we are no longer children.”

  His mother would not like that Simon and she had frolicked here, and neither did he, but though that might cause Raisa Soames to reject this young woman, Lothaire was now a man. He would determine what was acceptable.

  “But once you and I are wed”—she made a song of her words and angled her head toward the pond—“methinks it permissible for husband and wife to swim together.”

  The thought of going into the water with her once more making him much too aware of their bodies, he told himself to release her hand and put distance between them.

  Told himself.

  Her sparkling eyes returned to his. “Perhaps even bathe together, hmm?”

  He caught his breath, heard his mother’s words again—Beware the Delilah, my son. Beware the Jezebel.

  He cast off her hand. “You should not speak thus, Lady. ’Tis sinful!”

  She blinked as if slapped, and as the light in her eyes fell to earth alongside her smile, whispered, “Forgive me. Oh, Lady Maude shall be disappointed. I am a lady. Truly, I am. I just…” She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “I am pleased you wish to take me to wife, Lord Soames. You are young and handsome, and I am certain you are kind. I but wish you to be as happy with me as I am with you.”

  Though his mother would not overlook her behavior, the man before her decided she could be forgiven. She was young and would mature ere they wed, and once Lady Maude was made aware of her ward’s deficiencies, she would correct them.

  His betrothed lifted her chin, and he saw her eyes sparkled again, but not with joy or mischief. “You are not pleased with me, are you?”

  Struggling against the impulse to pull her close and wipe away her tears, he clenched his hands at his sides. “I make allowances for your age and am confident a year hence you will be nearer a woman than a girl.”

  His words offended, as evidenced by a different sort of light in those eyes, but it scattered and she said, “Much can happen in a year. Be patient, and I shall not disappoint you or Lady Maude who has been so good to me.”

  The lady had been generous, fostering Laura Middleton since the age of five when her mother’s passing left the girl’s father with one female child to raise amidst six males.

  “You…” She moistened her lips, and he saw they trembled. “…will not be too harsh in telling Lady Maude of my failings, will you? She will count herself responsible, and she is not. Ever I have been excitable.” A tear spilled, and she clapped a hand to her cheek as if to hide it. Another fell. “Oh, how the fluff upon the air irritates my eyes!”

  Dear Lord, Lothaire silently appealed, she should not captivate so.

  But she did, and he had only himself to blame when he breached the space between them and set his mouth on hers. He had kissed a few chambermaids—the extent of his carnal sin—but he was familiar enough with the intimacy to know this was different. The taste of Laura was more than pleasant. It was sweet, like the honey milk of his childhood.

  It was she who ended the kiss. Dropping from her toes he had not realized he had dragged her onto, she said, “I like that, Lord Soames, but now I must prove Lady Maude has made a lady of me.”

  “This is good,” he said as if he but test
ed her—and wished he did. How many hours must he now spend praying for forgiveness?

  “My lord?”

  “My lady?”

  She was smiling again, though more demurely, cheeks prettily flushed. “Methinks you ought to release me.”

  He lurched back. And had only a moment to miss the press of her body before what sounded like a large insect passed between their faces and skittered across the pond.

  He snapped his head around, considered the rippled surface. “What was that?”

  “Simon?” she called with what seemed rebuke.

  Lothaire followed her gaze to the trees between pond and castle. “You think ’twas him?”

  “I…” She looked sidelong at Lothaire, pressed pretty white teeth into her lower lip.

  “He is gone from Owen,” he reminded her, then wondered if he erred when he recalled the slingshot looped over the young man’s belt—of note since Lothaire was fond of that childhood weapon. Though these past years of training were mostly spent mastering the sword, he was certain he could still make his mark.

  “You are right, it cannot have been him,” she said. “Do you think ’twas a dragonfly?”