Genre ~ Historical Fiction
Publication date ~ November 23, 2023
Author Content Warning: Some fighting scenes and a death/ funeral of a parent.
I am delighted to share an extract today ~ thanks to Rachel’s Random Resources for organizing.
⤵ check out what my fellow bloggers thought of this one ⤵
Extract:
This extract is from the wedding banquet of Robert de Brunville and Mairenn Ní Tiernan– both of whom are still reeling from the shock of finding themselves married to the other…
Mairenn sipped the rich, fruity wine as she scanned the newly completed hall, built in the Anglo-Norman style, to commemorate this felicitous day. And what a day it had been. The wedding feast had been plentiful, with silver trenchers of local Irish beef, duck and river trout, with complementing sauces and delicate buttery herbs and sweetmeats served on long trellis tables decorated with spring flowers strewn across the cream-coloured table coverings. Rounds of cheese, potted fruits and freshly baked breads were washed down with local mead and
the wine that the Anglo-Normans had brought with them to Ireland. And yet the day was anything but felicitous. Not to her.
The room was filled with the hum and chatter of the wedding celebrations but all Mairenn could think on was how miserable she felt. The situation was nothing short of a disaster. Her new husband had made it quite clear to her how lamentably distasteful their union was to him, even though, despite it all, he had acquiesced and married her anyway. And once they had made their vows the man had proceeded to ignore her, barely uttering more than one word to her.
Awareness trickled down her spine as he sat beside her, his arm touching hers, while he continued to chat to his uncle, his men. Anyone but her.
Mairenn knocked back the remainder of her wine and ushered the serving boy to fill her pewter goblet with more. She needed to fortify herself for the bedding ceremony later, dreading that she would have to go through the
ignominy of it with a man who seemed to find her, oh-so lacking.
‘Do you not think you have had enough wine, my lady?’ her husband murmured beside her. Evidently the first few words he was to utter to her, as her new husband, were words of chastisement.
‘No.’
‘Ah, so you are accustomed to imbibing much wine?’
‘No.’
She took another sip, and ignored him, no longer really caring whether he found her rude or not. Mairenn believed him to be arrogant, boorish, vexing—so what did it matter anyway?
‘Are you always so obstinate, Lady Mairenn?’
‘No.’
‘Are you continually going to say no?’ he said, uttering the same words as she had after they had both got over the shock of seeing one another again outside the church doors, after their interlude in the woods.
‘No.’ Mairenn glanced at Robert de Brunville and wondered how she could ever have mistaken the man for a squire.
He was indeed exceptionally tall, broad and sinewy, and was far too attractive for his own good. His dark blue tunic was worn beneath a gleaming leather gambeson that looked as though it was sculpted to his body. And somehow the hue of his tunic brought out the intensity of the blue in his eyes. Not that she knew why in heavens she was noticing his eye colour or their intensity. She looked away from her husband and gulped down the rest of the wine before waving at the serving boy for more.
‘That might be a little excessive, lady wife.’
‘Oh, how so?’ And why would you care, she wanted to say but thankfully held her tongue.
‘I do not think it would be a good idea.’
She glared at him. ‘I think it might be a perfect idea, my lord.’
He raised a brow, his eyes glittering with something akin to amusement. ‘You think it a good idea for you to be drunk at our wedding banquet? A befuddled look is not a good one on such an esteemed person as yourself.’
‘It is called being merry, and we Irish enjoy nothing more. You should try it, my lord.’
He arched a brow. ‘Do you believe that we Anglo-Normans do not know how to be merry?’
‘I would not know.’ She shrugged. ‘Nor would I ever dream of saying that. Indeed, it might be best if I held my tongue for fear of causing offence.’
‘True that might be best.’ He took a bite from the choice cut of meat from the shared trencher before addressing her again. After all, tact and refinement seem to be unfamiliar entities.’
‘To me or my Irish clan, my lord?’
He took another bite of the beef before licking the sauce from his thumb and fingers. ‘You decide, my lady.”
This material is protected by copyright.
Book blurb:
Could the wrong bride…
Be right for him after all!
For the sake of his family name, Lord Robert must marry to seal an alliance with an Irish clan. Only, the woman at the altar isn’t who he was promised! Instead, it’s her sister, Lady Mairenn! The sharp-tongued Irish beauty is as reluctant to wed as Robert, but as friction turns to fire between them, she’s further derailing Robert’s plans for this purely pragmatic arrangement…
Purchase Links
Author Bio –
Melissa Oliver is from south-west London where she writes sweeping historical romance and is the winner of The Romantic Novelists’ Association’s Joan Hessayon Award for new writers 2020 for her debut, The Rebel Heiress and the Knight.
For more information visit www.melissaoliverauthor.com
Social Media Links Instagram @melissaoliverauthor Twitter @melissaoauthor
Facebook @melissaoliverauthor
Thanks for stopping by! Visit my bookish product page here 🥰📚
Connect with me ⬇
