I’m so happy that my Sisters of Magic trilogy is once more avaiable, beginning with Shadow Magic! This trilogy is a historical paranormal set in Medieval England. It’s one of the rare stories that I didn’t set in Scotland.
So, here’s the blurb for the first book. 🙂
With a past soaked in sin and darkness slowly closing in around him to claim his soul, Drogan only wants to live his life in solitude. Years in the king’s service and his numerous deeds directed by the crown have left Drogan with horrendous nightmares and immeasurable guilt…
Serena is a witch, cursed and forever alone. She accepts her future. Until she meets Drogan. With Drogan a passion deep and unyielding awakens inside her. She is willing to sacrifice herself for his love, but can he put his past to rest and embrace the future?
Serena leaned her head back and let the wind enfold her. The chill of the breeze made her wish she had thought to bring her cloak, but she had needed a quick escape from the great hall, from Drogan and his searching brown eyes. She ventured onto the battlements where she knew she could be alone. She loved looking out over Hawthorne and its people from the lofty perch.
She lifted her gaze and stared at the inky sky as the stars twinkled overhead. It was a full moon, and its bright light illuminated everything in its soft glow.
But she had no need of a light to know when Drogan drew near. She sensed him. She lowered her head to look at the land that was Gerard’s by birthright, but hers in God’s eyes.
“Hello, Lord Drogan,” she said without turning around.
He stepped beside her and placed his hands on the stone wall. “How did you know it was me?”
“You have a very unique scent. The sandalwood is very strong, but I also smell traces of pine and a hint of cinnamon.” She kept her eyes straight ahead, afraid to look at him.
Afraid of what she might see in his beautiful eyes. But more afraid of what she might do just to have him touch her.
“Do I unsettle you?” he asked quietly. “I have a feeling you don’t care for me.”
His statement surprised her so much, she swiveled her head to him. She stared at his profile for a moment. “It is the truth. You do unsettle me, but not for the reason you think. You are a good man, my lord.”
“You say that as if you know it to be true.”
“Because I do know it to be true.”
His golden brown eyes shifted to her. “How do you know that? Because Gerard and Maris said so?”
“Actually, nay. I know it because I feel it.” She reached up and placed her hand over her heart. “Here.”
As soon as she touched him she knew she’d done the wrong thing. Something strong, something primal moved between them. It was heat, it was passion. And it doomed her.
“What are you?” he whispered, eyes narrowed on her in puzzlement.
Serena quickly dropped her arm and fisted her hand to keep the warmth of him against her as long as possible. “I am a woman.”
He snorted. “You are much more than that,” he said and turned to look at the land again.
Serena sighed and leaned against the battlement wall. She didn’t move away from Drogan, although she should have. Every fiber of her being screamed to run as far away from Drogan as she could. She’d always listened to her conscious. Why would she ignore it now?
But she knew the answer. It was the desire, the need she felt inside Drogan. The longer she stood beside him, the more she sealed her fate.
“I am a bana‐bhuidseach.”
“What is that?” he asked as his gaze swiveled to her.
“It is Gaelic for witch.”
For several moments, he stared at her. She returned his look, watching him as he studied her.
“A witch?” he repeated softly.
“Aye. Gerard and Maris, along with the people of Hawthorne, protect me.”
“And why would you tell me? I could spread word of what you are,” he said, his posture now tense.
For a brief second, she closed her eyes. “You won’t do that, Lord Drogan. You care for Gerard and Maris too much to ever bring any type of sadness to their door, and you can tell how much they care for me.”
“And that I don’t understand,” he said, his voice rising on the wind. He stepped away and folded his arms over his chest. When he spoke again, he had regained control. His deep brown eyes were narrowed, suspicious. “I’ve known Gerard for many years, and never once has he spoken of you. We’ve shared horrors you cannot imagine. Why would he keep this from me?”
“You are blaming him for the wrong thing. You act as though you are angry because he never told you, when in fact you are angry because you cannot imagine he would believe in something like me.”
She didn’t have long to wait for his reaction.
His arms dropped to his side as he stepped toward her, his voice low and deadly. “How did you know that? How did you know what I was thinking?”
She inhaled deeply. “I am a witch, my lord. Not in the sense you would think. I am not evil.”
“Tell me more then.” He spoke softly, but she knew he was close to the edge of reason.
She began this conversation, though for the life of her she didn’t know why. She trusted few with the truth of what she was. But, regardless, she would tell Drogan everything. “I come from a line of women blessed with certain abilities.”
“Like what?” He leaned his elbow on the wall as he listened.
“I feel things deeper than you. For instance, the wind. Do you feel it?”
“Aye. It is barely touching my skin.”
“Is it cold?”
“It is cool enough in this summer heat. Why?”
“To me, it feels like the icy fingers of winter. The heat from the sun may make you sweat, but it can, and sometimes does, blister my skin.”
“Does everything affect you thus?”
He nodded as he thought over her words. “Any other abilities?”
“A few,” she answered. She knew he had learned enough this night. There was no need to go into the many other things she could do.
Silence filled the air, and she was content with it. Though she liked to be alone on the battlements, she didn’t mind him being there. And that frightened her as nothing else could.
“A line of women, you say,” he said.
“For many generations it has been so, but we are dying out. There are just a handful of us left in this land.”
“Your abilities do not pass onto your children?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“It only passes onto the females, but that isn’t the reason we’re dying out.”
“What is it then?”
“We were cursed. By one of our own.”