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© 2004, Monica
M. Martin Reviews For ISABELLA'S DESIRE by Monica M. Martin Overall rating: 4 Hearts "Using betrayal and mistaken identity this book kept me interested all the way through. Karl can seem a bit oblivious at times and you wonder why he can't figure it out. Belle can make you curse with pretending to be someone she's not, but all these aspects make the plot what it is. The passion between Karl and Belle is hotter than hot. If you want to read a great book full of mystery and drama then pick this one up." Reviewer: Angel Brewer, The Romance Studio Rating: 4 1/2 flames "ISABELLA'S DESIRE is a book that abounds with deceit and treachery. There seems to be something evil popping up at every turn. Karl and Bella are strong, wonderful characters. The many trials that they must endure and overcome will tear at your heart and have you on the edge of your seat. Their passionate lovemaking really heats things up. Readers who like a fiery romance and a complex plot will enjoy this well-written story." Sizzling Romances Rating: 4 Stars "Isabella’s Desire is a wonderfully written book with lots of twists and turns. There are lots of secondary characters each playing an important role in the story. This is a story of what happens when we practice to deceive. If Isabella had been honest from the start things would have been very different for her. If Karl had told Isabella who he really is when he first met her, his life wouldn’t have been so miserable. You will need to keep your wits about you while you read this story. Ms. Martin does a wonderful job of keeping everything straight and moving along at a good pace. The characters are believable and enjoyable. The sex is hot and steamy and there is lots of it. While I am not a big fan of the big misunderstanding plot line, I did enjoy this book. It is a definite keeper." Reviewer~ Oleta M Blaylock, Just Erotic Romance Reviews "Bella and Karl have a magnetic chemistry that sears the pages of this novel. They have the uncanny ability of being able to read each other’s thoughts and nearly feel what the other is feeling. Their love is strong enough to overcome some mighty obstacles and only grow stronger. ISABELLA’S DESIRE for Lord Karl is amazing and their desire for each other takes the reader’s breath away. I was awed by the feelings that were conveyed between these two lovers. It is truly a case of mistaken identity and then one thing after another to upset the chances of them being together. This one makes you hold your breath until the very end, a wonderful mix of suspense, passion and desire combined to hold the reader’s attention until the very last word." Reviewed by Ansley Velarde for The Road to Romance Sample Chapter For ISABELLA'S DESIRE by Monica M. Martin April, 1193 Godstow Abbey Oxfordshire, England Bella leaned against the roughened stonework, her large blue eyes as big as saucers. “You kissed him?” she gasped. “You have barely known him two days and you kissed him!” Claire nodded at Bella, her normally pale cheeks aflame. She quickly glanced around her, making certain that none of the sisters were within earshot. “He placed his tongue in my mouth, Bella,” she whispered, pulling at one of her coppery braids. Bella’s pert nose crinkled. “I can’t imagine such a thing, “ she said aloud, but thought otherwise, for Isabella’s desire was to choose her own lover…a partner for life. “Did you retch?” “No, ‘twas not so bad and he bore no rotting teeth.” Her hazel eyes had a dreamy look and her freckled face flushed with excitement. “I’m meeting him come the eve of Beltane,” she gushed. “Come with me.” “I certainly will not! Maying is a pagan ritual and the blacksmith-” “His name is Robert!” “You’re going to get yourself with child if you aren’t careful. What will the abbess do with you then? Have you thought of that?” “You’ve been cloistered far too long, Isabella of Sheffield, and you’re beginning to sound like Sister Margaret. Mayhap you should rethink donning a wimple and habit, you prudish woman!” Claire retorted, then turned and stomped away, her gray bliaut clenched tightly in her balled fists, her white underskirts on display. Bella sighed wistfully, tucking an errant strand of silver-blonde hair behind an ear while she eyed the half-weeded herb garden with distaste. “I shall never complete this task,” she muttered, kneeling in the dirt. She viciously yanked at a stubborn patch of grass, hating her predicament. Claire was Bella’s dearest, unpredictable friend for almost nineteen years and was all that she had in the world. Her late father had never bothered to visit with her and upon the rare occasions he had written, his writings were detached to say the least. Over four years ago, she had cried her heart out on Claire’s shoulder when the abbess informed her of his death, not because she would miss him, but because she had never known him, and therein her sorrow lay. Only fifteen, she had decided to join the holy sisterhood. The final blow came upon learning that she was to wed a German Count from the Holy Roman Empire, by orders of the King. She became entirely disillusioned with her life, and the God-fearing woman/child had rebelled ever since, to the abbess’s dismay. It was rumored that Emperor Frederick was his grandsire, that he was a great warrior, trained by the late Frederick himself, and that’s why he had captured King Henry’s attention. The dear departed King had given the Count her lands and her hand in return for his allegiance and aid in the Holy Crusade. She found it odd that King Richard would honor the agreement that his father made, considering that Emperor Henry-Frederick’s son-held him captive after the Holy Crusade ended. Bella looked around the grounds. She had planned on absconding later that afternoon and taking a swim in the nearby river, but first she must finish her chores. She tore at a dense patch of weeds. “Come out.” “You’re quite absent-minded, Isabella and your tongue tends to wag ceaselessly. Mayhap you should quit your daydreaming and pay a mind to what you are doing, else there will be no herbs left in this bed.” “Oh!” Bella squeaked, dropping the bundle of chives. Red-faced, she gazed up into the disapproving eyes of the nun and inwardly cringed. “You will replant those,” Sister Margaret muttered, gesturing to the discarded herbs. “How are you ever going to manage an entire keep when you can’t apply yourself to a simple task like this? Your husband will need a firm hand, I dare say! Go about your chores!” “I do apologize, Sister,” Bella murmured humbly, keeping her eyes lowered, lest the nun see the vibrant anger that shone within. Sister Margaret grunted loudly and then left. A firm hand indeed! I will never bow to his will! He is a wealthy man with vast estates in Regensberg! God only knows why he would want this marriage! “Count von Regensberg is a highly respected member of the Holy Roman Empire. In fact, he took up the cross the same day that Emperor Frederick did and fought proudly for Christendom. You couldn’t make a better match, child.” That’s what the abbess had told her a fortnight ago. The nun hadn’t bothered to ask her how she felt about the matter, she supposed that she didn’t care. On the first day of June she was to wed. That left her one month and one day of freedom, if one could call it that. She had wished for his death to no avail! She sighed broodingly as she tore at another patch of grass. The clanging bell brought Bella out of her musings. “Lunchtime,” she murmured, casting an eye over her work. She laughed aloud. “I’m destined for failure.” After hastily burying several mutilated plants, she rose to her feet and shook the soil from her apron. The sounds of approaching horses filled her with dread and excitement all at once. Her heartbeat doubled. She keenly watched Sisters Margaret and Agnes hurry down the paved walkway. “I wonder who they could be?” came a whisper from behind her. She turned to find Claire smiling down at her. Bella pulled a face. “I thought that you were angry with me.” “I still am,” her friend announced. “You should think before you speak, Isabella of Sheffield. I would forgive you, though, but only if you come with me on the morrow.” Bella grinned at that. “And you can trade places with me and marry my betrothed,” she joked. “Don’t tease, you know that I long for riches.” She clutched Bella’s arm. “Come celebrate Beltane with me.” “Well,” Bella thought for a minute, “I can hardly get myself into any more trouble. I’ll go along as your poor, orphaned friend.” Claire performed a little dance. “Agnes the destitute.” Bella rolled her eyes. “Mind you, I’ll not stay long after midnight.” Groaning from the heavy timber gateway caught their attention. They crept closer for a better view. Sister Margaret’s gaunt, scowling face brought soft giggles from them both. “I believe that she hates all men,” Claire said with good cheer. Bella nodded, barely hearing Claire’s words. Entirely fascinated, her eyes were pinned on the knights that entered the grounds. The two were extremely handsome and opposites in many ways. Their powerful builds and towering height dwarfed the Sisters. “Handsome indeed,” Claire said, her eyes dancing in untamed delight. Bella couldn’t tear her eyes from the raven-haired knight. Magnificently made, his splendid dimensions commanded female attention. He is beautiful! Her hand went to her breast and she sighed. He nodded at his companion and uttered a reply, his brown fingers skimming through his long, spiraled curls. Her stomach plummeted wildly. His darkly handsome face looked as though a master had sculpted it. Its contours were strong and well defined-the expression rather detached, like a mask. He wore a leather, knee-length tunic of sable, form-fitting chausses, and a gleaming sword hung at his left hip. His blonde-haired companion outshone him in his shimmering blue samite surcoat and black hose, but not in looks as far as she was concerned. The little voice inside her head told her that it was most impolite to stare, but for the life of her, she could not act the Lady that she was supposed to be, and look away. “Bella. Bella!” Claire nudged her several times and then gave up. He turned and regarded Bella with a pair of intense, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes. They slowly moved over her before finally resting on her face once more. An untamed spark flared within them, making her shiver as a scorching thrill of excitement shot through her belly. His perfect mouth now curved slightly, conveying on her a semblance of a smile, a conceited, “I know that you find me tempting,” smile. If I were a creature of paganism, I would call upon my magic and disappear! She fleetingly wondered if one could die of shame. You act like a senseless fool, Isabella of Sheffield! Handsome he may be, but friendly he is not! Karl felt her gaze the moment he entered the grounds. Normally he would ignore such attention, but her intense regard drew him to look. He was not prepared for the shock that he felt upon meeting her gaze. A punch in the gut would have felt much subtler! It was as though the pale, silver-haired angel had reached in and touched his soul, or rather, tore it from him! Her deep blue eyes stared adoringly at him as she fiddled with her dirt-smeared apron with equally soiled fingers. Her innocence beguiled him and her beauty left him enthralled. A pretty blush covered her finely boned cheeks as she lowered her radiant gaze. He turned to Christopher and said, “I fear that my eyes deceive me, for I believe that I have just seen an angel.” “A very unclean one, “ Christopher mocked, grasping Karl’s shoulder. “Christ! I’ve an erection,” Karl muttered. “Not at all comforting.” Christopher laughed heartily, which brought another glare from the nuns that escorted them. His blue gaze moved over the willowy, red-haired maiden. “I prefer the not so angelic looking one,” he said quietly. “Hmmm…your kind of woman.” Christopher nodded, eyeing a group of tittering maidens as they entered the corridor. The girls lowered their heads as they passed by them. Karl noted that they wore either a headrail or a veil and briefly wondered why the pale beauty and her friend did not. He turned back to view the glorious, silver-haired creature. Grey and white skirts in hand, she dashed across the grounds, disappearing behind the stone wall in her flight. A faint smile tugged at his mouth. Where do you go, little dove? Have you a lover in the wood? Christopher’s expressive gaze taunted him. “Not a word from you.” He immediately bestowed on the man a sour look. Diffused light angled through the high-set, pointed, arched windows on their left. He loathed oppressive places and already couldn’t wait to be away from this dismal one. The further they went, the darker it became. The desert lands had spoiled him for the colder climates and gloomy landscapes. “‘Tis a smothering place,” he said, the sound like a hiss. Christopher rolled his eyes toward the barrel-vaulted ceiling and stated rather loudly, “‘Tis gloomy, I say.” The sour faced nun turned and placed a finger to her lips. “Shhhh!” “Forgive us, sisters,” Karl said, feigning humility. They made their way down another poorly lit corridor without another word. The nun stopped before a paneled doorway and knocked softly and a firm voice from within bid them to enter. The abbess looked up from her writing and surveyed the two knights with lucid eyes while Sister Margaret introduced them. She motioned to chairs opposite the desk. “Please seat yourselves.” Karl nodded politely, then complied. The look the old woman gave him made him distinctively uncomfortable. Have I grown horns on my head? Am I not good enough for her charge? Did I not fight well enough or long enough for God? He angled a glance at Christopher, who was making a show of admiring a larger-than-life wall hanging of the Virgin Mother. What would I do without you, my dearest friend! “You’re not what I expected,” she said quietly. So quietly in fact, that he barely made out the words. “My ears deceive m-” “They do not, Count von Regensberg. You’re far too eager. ‘Tis wrong to have her under the same roof without the sanctimony of marriage.” “You mistake my purpose, Sister. I have no intention of taking Lady Isabella from your care just yet.” The nun’s face was awash with relief. “I’m merely passing by, on my way to Sheffield. Father Colin, our priest, will take charge of my betrothed and her maidservant one week hence. I thought it wise that you know to whom you are intrusting her-them.” “I’ve misjudged you, and for that, I express regret. As for her maid, your betrothed doesn’t have one.” His right brow lifted. “This is a nunnery, Count von Regensberg, not a grand castle with a long line of serfs waiting in the wings.” She gave him a meaningful look. “This abbey is a humble institution.” Her condescending tone infuriated him. “I know nothing of what goes on in a nunnery, Sister, but I do know that once Lady Isabella leaves your door, she will require a maid, or at least, a female companion. I can obtain one from the village, or I could leave it up to your good judgment to acquire an orphaned girl from within the nunnery. I will compensate you for your efforts, of course.” Reaching down he detached a purse from his belt and emptied it on the table. “I’m well aware that you were patronized by the late King Henry and now Richard,” he gave her the impression of a smile…”and many other lofty noblemen of this realm. If this sum is not satisfactory, don’t hesitate to inform Father Colin upon his return. I would hate to deprive this humble establishment, sister,” he voiced, in a cool manner. “The gold that you have offered is quite sufficient, Lord Karl,” the nun uttered hastily, waving Sister Margaret over to remove the coins. “I’ll be certain to send her with a worthy companion.” I thought that you would. “I would like to speak with my betrothed.” The abbess glanced at Sister Margaret, who in turn shook her head. “Could you both wait in the corridor? I need one moment with the good sister.” Christopher was up and out the door before Karl could protest. “My friend, you were an endless supply of help.” Christopher nodded his head at the door and then swept his blonde hair from his eyes. “And I somehow doubt that old hag is making arrangements for you to meet with your intended.” He cringed. “Perhaps the girl is far too grotesque for the light of day, my friend. Like one of those walking dead that the heathens speak of.” The horrified look on Karl’s face made Christopher roar with laughter. “Have a care, friend, you may not live past seven and twenty years.” “Come now, I have known you all my life. We’ve fought many battles together. You wouldn’t cause me any undue harm.” “And who says that it would be undue?” Karl muttered. * * * Speak liberally, Sister,” the abbess said quietly. “Isabella has absconded into the woods again.” The abbess sighed in frustration. “‘Tis a good thing, though. She has the manners of a peasant and a mouth so profane that her words may burn his ears entirely. He is expecting a virtual nun…He could wait till their wedding day.” The abbess nodded in understanding. “Isabella has been irresponsible and altogether willful since her father’s death-” “Since King Richard’s father gave her to the Count von Regensberg, you mean,” Sister Margaret interjected. “She wanted to serve God, n-” “She hasn’t wanted to serve God for nigh-on two years.” The abbess motioned to the doorway. “Bid them return, Sister.” * * * Karl’s formidable scowl caused Christopher to cringe, but it appeared to have no affect on the two nuns. “‘Tis against God’s law for you to lie,” he said softly. “Pray that I don’t find that this is so.” With that said, he turned on his heel and stormed from the room, Christopher in tow. “I’ll not be browbeaten by a woman!” Karl snarled, hoisting himself up on his magnificent warhorse. “Nor a man,” he added, thinking of Lady Helen’s father. “Regretfully, Father doesn’t like Moorish blood,” Lady Helen had informed him. “My daughter is too good for the likes of you! I will not allow you to befoul her with your touch. Marry one of your own kind!” “It appears that you have been browbeaten,” Christopher quipped, breaking through Karl’s morbid musings, urging his mount forward. “I will leave you to vent your anger alone,” he called over his shoulder. Karl gave one last sweeping glance up at the ominous gray structure and then nudged Thunder into a trot. The meadow was alive with color. Cowslips, bluebells, daises, buttercups and other assorted flowers grew in wild profusion around him, and the woodland off to his left was a striking contrast of green. Spring had shown itself unequivocally. The air was fresh, the sun was warm, the birds were singing. I will do you proud, grandfather! I will have a docile, patrician bride and many legitimate heirs to share my great wealth. He threw back his head and hooted loudly. Several startled birds flew off overhead. Thunder snorted, tossing his head back and forth. Karl hooted again. |