Innocent's Champion. Meriel Fuller

Innocent's Champion - Meriel  Fuller


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       ‘I think maybe you were right, Gilan,’ she spluttered out. ‘I’ve made a mistake. I should go home.’

      ‘You’re changing your mind?’ he said, incredulous. ‘After all that effort you put into persuading me to bring you along? Why?’

      She flinched slightly. How could she tell him? How could she tell him that being this close to him sent her whole body into a flutter of excitement, of anticipation?

      ‘I…er…well…’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I thought it was better if we carried on…that’s all.’

      ‘That’s not it. You were the one who suggested we find shelter,’ he pointed out.

      She pursed her lips and sighed. ‘If you must know, I’m not in the habit of doing things like this. Sleeping in a cave with a man I hardly know.’

      He smiled, teeth flashing white in the gloom. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll keep well away; you’re safe from me.’

      Turning away from her, he returned to his horse, unbuckling the saddlebags. The lie scorched through his conscience—a flare of brilliant light.

       AUTHOR NOTE

      My story of Matilda and Gilan originated in a medieval tale of two sisters—wealthy heiresses in their own right, who were ultimately manoeuvred out of their fortune by the powerful men surrounding them. This was a fact of life for most medieval women: to have their lives controlled by their fathers or their husbands.

      I wanted my heroine to fight against these male constraints: to be a strong, feisty woman who breaks with convention and attempts to forge her own path. Despite her wayward behaviour and his own initial reluctance Gilan, a knight who has travelled to England with the exiled Henry of Bolingbroke, is the man who helps her. She achieves her goal—and wins a handsome knight at the same time!

      Innocent’s Champion

      Meriel Fuller

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MERIEL FULLER lives in a quiet corner of rural Devon, England, with her husband and two children. Her early career was in advertising, with a bit of creative writing on the side. Now, with a family to look after, writing has become her passion… A keen interest in literature, the arts and history, particularly the early medieval period, makes writing historical novels a pleasure. The Devon countryside, a landscape rich in medieval sites, holds many clues to the past and has made her research a special treat.

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Contents

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      Summer 1399—south-west England

      ‘What is that? On the bottom of your gown? Actually, my gown.’ Katherine’s peevish tones emerged, shrill, from the shadowed interior of the covered litter. Striding alongside, Matilda slackened her brisk pace at the sound of her sister’s voice, glancing down at the hem of her skirts. In the cloying heat of the afternoon, the heavily pleated silk bodice stuck to the skin around her chest and shoulders; the high neck, buttoned tightly around her throat to the pale curve of her chin, made her feel constricted, trapped. Her sister had insisted she wear the elaborate gown, with a light-blue cloak to match, indicating with turned-down mouth that none of Matilda’s clothing were suitable for visiting the Shrine of Our Lady at Worlebury.

      ‘Well?’ Katherine addressed her shrewishly, peering out from between the patterned curtains. ‘Oh, God Lord, stop bouncing me so!’ she snapped at the servants who each shouldered a wooden strut of the litter, one on each corner, endeavouring to carry their lady as carefully as possible along the rutted track. Katherine sank back into the padded cushions, her face grey-toned and wan, the rounded dome of her stomach protruding upwards into the gloom.

      Matilda twisted one way, then the other, trying to spot the problem with the gown. The smooth blue silk of the skirts billowed out from below a jewelled belt set high on her narrow waist. One of the knights in the service


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