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Forbidden Night With The Warrior
Michelle Willingham
One wicked night for an heir!Rosamund de Courcy has always loved Warrick de Laurent, but was forced to marry another. Now, her husband’s dying command is that she must provide him with an heir. To do so she will have to spend one sinful night…with Warrick!The powerful warrior was wounded by Rosamund’s abandonment years ago, and Warrick refuses to let her touch his heart again. But this illicit night is impossible to resist, and soon he is determined—he will not only possess her, but reclaim her for his own!
One wicked night for an heir!
Rosamund de Courcy has always loved Warrick de Laurent, but was forced to marry another. Now her husband’s dying command is that she must provide him with an heir. To do so, she will have to spend one sinful night...with Warrick!
The powerful warrior was wounded by Rosamund’s abandonment years ago, and Warrick refuses to let her touch his heart again. But this illicit night is impossible to resist, and soon he is determined—he will not only possess her, but reclaim her for his own!
Warriors of the Night (#ue2662df3-1048-5855-b3b7-9cef7e238597)
Surrender to seduction…
Let Michelle Willingham sweep you away with her brand-new, thrillingly passionate Warriors of the Night miniseries. Be entranced by these darkly sexy warrior heroes, and follow them as they face their biggest challenge yet—falling in love!
Forbidden Night with the Warrior
Available now
Forbidden Night with the Highlander
Coming soon
Author Note (#ue2662df3-1048-5855-b3b7-9cef7e238597)
Forbidden Night with the Warrior is the first in a new series inspired by Indecent Proposal. When Rosamund de Courcy falls in love with Warrick de Laurent as a maiden her father forbids a union between them. The star-crossed lovers try to wed in secret, but Rosamund is forced to marry another man.
In this book I wanted to explore the idea of what might happen if a dying lord desperately needed an heir and offered a night with his wife to the man she’d always loved. It’s a story about second chances and wanting to right the wrongs of the past. And then, too, there is the question of which marriage was real…
Look for the second book in this series, Forbidden Night with the Highlander, which tells the story of Rhys de Laurent and Lianna MacKinnon. If you’d like me to email you when I have a new book out, please visit my website at michellewillingham.com (http://www.michellewillingham.com) to sign up for my newsletter. As a bonus, you’ll receive a free story just for subscribing!
Forbidden Night with the Warrior
Michelle Willingham
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
RITA® Award finalist MICHELLE WILLINGHAM has written over twenty historical romances, novellas and short stories. Currently she lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. When she’s not writing, Michelle enjoys reading, baking and avoiding exercise at all costs. Visit her website at: michellewillingham.com (http://www.michellewillingham.com).
Books by Michelle Willingham
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
and Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks
Warriors of the Night
Forbidden Night with the Warrior
Warriors of Ireland
(Linked to The MacEgan Brothers)
Warrior of Ice
Warrior of Fire
The MacKinloch Clan
Claimed by the Highland Warrior
Seduced by Her Highland Warrior
Craving the Highlander’s Touch (Undone!)
Tempted by the Highland Warrior
The MacEgan Brothers
Her Irish Warrior
The Warrior’s Touch
Her Warrior King
Her Warrior Slave (prequel)
Taming Her Irish Warrior
Surrender to an Irish Warrior
Warriors in Winter
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
To Barb Massabrook, a bright spirit with a ready smile, a love for Scotland, and gorgeous men in kilts. You are one of the nicest women I’ve ever met, and I am so glad to call you my friend. As you fight this battle, know that we are with you always.
Contents
Cover (#u1b518566-7ffc-569a-964e-d9a69c69c62a)
Back Cover Text (#u9baa9fa8-dd59-5539-8954-e791a8378c89)
Warriors of the Night (#u12dbbf46-4632-59c1-b3ca-78a6c4d86258)
Author Note (#u04f569f5-3fb6-5226-a916-ae8825e71b6d)
Title Page (#u64680455-abe0-599b-a463-af3eae3f3eb3)
About the Author (#uc5f9ebad-53bb-5aca-aaa9-77e197858660)
Dedication (#u072d8b04-9f95-57c9-92bf-8a10f125a905)
Chapter One (#ua1aa03af-5d14-5640-833f-b638e5d237a2)
Chapter Two (#u2f052f57-ae13-53c8-b8a1-39ac7fcc0791)
Chapter Three (#u971ba2da-0843-5b18-a86c-2211b279912b)
Chapter Four (#u682df085-5e14-5512-8b4b-bc687a68c87c)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ue2662df3-1048-5855-b3b7-9cef7e238597)
England—1174
‘You cannot ask this of me.’ Rosamund de Courcy stared at her husband in disbelieving shock. ‘It is a sin.’
Alan de Courcy, the Baron of Pevensham, leaned back against the pillow of their bed. His brown hair hung limply against his face, and his grey eyes were shielded with unending pain. He had grown weaker over the past three months, and though Rosamund prayed each night for his recovery, the shadow of death lingered over him. It terrified her to imagine him gone, for he had been a true friend through her darkest nightmares.
Now he wanted her to lie with another man to conceive the child they so desperately needed. The very idea was unthinkable.
‘We need an heir, ma petite. And I am incapable of giving you one.’ Her husband spoke of the proposition as if it were a business arrangement. ‘I will not let my brother inherit everything I have built. Owen would ruin Pevensham within a year.’
Rosamund paced before the hearth, her heart racing at the very thought of Alan’s command. How could he even imagine she would betray him in that way? She was a woman of honour, not an unfaithful wife.
Whispers of guilt pulled at her conscience, reminding her of the mistakes she had made as a young woman. But Alan knew nothing of them, and she had always been true to him during their marriage. She had paid the price for her sins, but the heartbreak haunted her still.
‘I have been nothing but loyal to you,’ she insisted to Alan. ‘For three years, I have obeyed you. Why would you ask this of me?’
‘Because you do not want Owen to inherit, either. You know what he would do to you when I am gone.’ His voice held a trace of ice, and she understood his unspoken words. If Owen took possession of Pevensham, he would force his unwanted attentions upon her. She suppressed a shiver of revulsion.
‘But...to lie with another man when I am married to you? You ask too much of me. I could never do such a thing.’ She closed her eyes, gripping the edges of her skirt. The union between a man and a woman was not painful, but she had never enjoyed it with Alan. He had been so careful, treating her with such gentleness. But there was no thrill of passion between them, hardly more than a gesture of marital comfort.
Alan had tried to please her, though he’d sensed her distance when he had claimed her body. Because of it, he had not asked that she share his bed often. And in the half-year since he’d fallen ill, she had not lain with him once.
‘I have asked Warrick de Laurent to come to Pevensham. He will be here within a sennight.’
An icy chill suffused her skin, and she felt light-headed for a moment. Warrick was the man she had loved since she was a maiden. Tall and strong, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, she had wanted him desperately. Never had she forgotten the fierce warrior who had haunted her dreams. Or the way his kiss had awakened her body, arousing her blood.
‘I cannot lie with him,’ Rosamund insisted. For if she did, it would threaten the very foundation of her marriage. Her throat constricted with a flood of memories she couldn’t face. She had closed off her heart to what would never be, accepting Alan and becoming a proper wife.
For him to ask this of her evoked such a fury, she could hardly speak.
Alan knew what this would mean. He knew it, and yet he was forcing her to confront the past.
If she let Warrick touch her, she would no longer be able to trust herself. It would be impossible to guard her feelings and behave as if the union meant nothing. Even the memory of his touch made her pulse quicken and her body tremble.
For a time, Alan was silent. She heard only the sound of his laboured breathing and the rustle of sheets. ‘I know you did not want to marry me, ma petite. I was never the man you wanted.’
No, he wasn’t. Everyone had known it, though she had obeyed her father’s command and married the man of his choosing. There had been no other way.
The pain in Alan’s voice weighed upon her, cooling the anger. She remained beside the hearth, closing her eyes as she chose her words carefully. ‘You have always been kind to me. I could not have asked for a better husband.’
But the arranged marriage had forced her to put aside the broken dreams and start anew. Warrick had joined the king’s forces, fighting in Normandy, and she had not seen him again. Instead, Rosamund had accepted this new life with a man who cared for her, and it should have been enough.
He expelled a sigh. ‘The words do not make it true, Rosamund. I know you wanted to wed Warrick de Laurent.’
It was far more than that, she thought, but didn’t say so.
‘That was a long time ago,’ she said quietly. She couldn’t understand why Alan was bringing up the ghosts of the past. ‘When you took me as your wife, I tried to be everything you wanted.’
‘And you have been, Rosamund. But I was never what you wanted.’ His voice was quiet, rimmed with sadness.
She hated to hear it, for this man had become her friend as well as her husband. Alan had never raised a hand against her, and he had given her dominion over the castle and household. ‘You have always been good to me.’
‘But we have no children,’ he said softly. ‘And now, we will find another way. There must be a child to keep Owen from inheriting Pevensham.’
She didn’t stop the tears now, for it had been nearly three years since she had delivered a babe that was stillborn. It was a resounding ache in her heart, and time had never diminished the emptiness. Perhaps the loss might have faded if she had carried a child to term, but after the death of her daughter, she had never conceived again. It was as if God were punishing her for her disobedience as a young maiden.
