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Informationen zum Autor Jayel Wylie is the author of the Brinlaw series, including A Falcon's Heart , This Dangerous Magic , and Wicked Charms. Klappentext From Jayel Wylie, one of romantic fiction's most brilliant new stars, comes a breathtaking tale that seamlessly blends passion, magic, and the enchantment of true love. After twelve years Tarquin FitzBruel, the most fearsome warrior in all of England, returns to Brinlaw Castle to keep a promise to his half-sister, Nan. Yet he vows to leave quickly before the demon that lurks within him can destroy the only people he truly loves, including the willful Malinda -- the spoiled beauty who haunts his dreams. Malinda Brinlaw does not take well to being denied something she wants. After all, she is a sorceress. So when she meets Tarquin FitzBruel, she ignores her family's warnings and uses her faerie magic to cast a love spell on the unsuspecting warrior. Their clash of wills turns into a white-hot passion so intense that a connection is forged between them forever. But the darkness that plagues Tarquin's soul threatens to tear the destined lovers apart...unless the tortured warrior can make the fearful choice that will save them. Chapter One Montferrand, France Christmas, 1172 To all appearances, the Christmas court of King Henry II was another triumph of his glorious, twenty-some-odd-year reign. At his side remained his queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Christendom's great beauty still, and ranged around them were their children, a brood to make the angels weep in envy. The oldest and heir to the throne was Henry, already crowned "the Young King" these two years past and married somewhat longer to Margaret, daughter of the King of France. The next two sons were betrothed to princesses of their own and already made dukes: Richard of Aquitaine and Geoffrey of Brittany, at least for the moment -- Henry had a jovial habit of switching his land-gifts around when it suited his fancy. The youngest royal, John, was rather famously ill-tempered and held no lands at all, but he was only four years old, so 'twas assumed he would mend on both counts. Even the daughters, Matilda and Eleanor, seemed perfect, having inherited a great deal of their mother's famous beauty and very little of her infamous wit. All in all, the family made a magnificent picture for the nobles gathered in this hall to admire them as they feasted. If the Queen was known to despise her husband as much as she adored him these days, 'twas no great matter -- they'd been married more than twenty years, after all, and Henry's roving eye remained a great portion of his charm. And if the princes were known to all bear certain grudges against their king and one another, that was to be expected as well -- they were barely more than children; their father would keep them in line. Henry had kept peace in his reign longer than any English king before him by sheer force of his great will. Surely he could control his own family. So the nobles assured themselves that Christmas night as they toasted their God and their king. Malinda Brinlaw harbored no doubts at all; to her, the night was perfect. Sitting with her parents and cousin, Nan, at a table at the foot of the dais, she felt perfectly at ease, perfectly at home, and she drank in every detail, the royal glamour entirely untarnished to her eyes. The King was splendid and mildly terrifying, just as a king ought to be; the princes and princesses were too beautiful to be real. And Queen Eleanor was her idol, perfect in every way. Malinda knew every romantic detail of her astounding history, how she had once been queen of France, how she had come to marry Henry when he was no more than a duke's young son and had come to see him crowned king of England, how she ruled her own court of love and chivalry and changed the face of the world at her whim. To Malinda, Eleanor had achieved all that a woman could hope...
