Jean M. Grant

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Medieval Monday, Week 6

Medieval Monday, autumn-style

WEEK 6

Another week of Medieval Monday!

Check out Medieval Romance Lovers as we share in the fall theme of "Nature" in our excerpts from our medieval stories. You’ll see weekly snippets each Monday on our blogs. And since I live in New England, home to memorable fall foliage, I will continue to try to post some photos! This week, though, is a map from my book. The trilogy spans across northern England, the Highlands, and west to the isles.

Read last week’s scene snippet here.

I encourage you to follow along with all the other Medieval Monday authors on the Facebook page here. You will find the links to their blogs where they are sharing their snippets. There may be even be some giveaways on the page…

Unique angles as fall ushers in resplendent color.

You can also find us on Twitter at #MedMonFall20

This week’s snippet…

Set-up:

Domhnall is a Seer who descends from powerful Ancients with mystical abilities. He suffers from terrible visions of the Sight, an affliction that comes with each touch, except with Rosalie. He is taking Rosalie on a stroll through the village. They come upon the loch shore and he suggests they collect pebbles for her necklace-making. Rosalie is a crafter and fortune-teller, scrimping to make ends meet and support her uncle and aunt, but she is also on the run from a vengeful noblewoman not pleased with her readings. She tells lies for a living. Domhnall believes her to be a true seer.

Eilean Donan Castle, seat of Clan MacCoinneach and home to Domhnall Montgomerie.

This week’s snippet…

Neither moved. His heart raced. “I…”

She answered with a kiss, full on his lips. Not only was she resolute, Rosalie did not play demure games. He cupped the nape of her neck, drawing her closer, allowing himself to disappear in the kiss. The only blackness across his vision was his own. No damning words, hissing Wind, or blood and death. Only a rousing from within. She tasted like the earth, pure and

humble. A hint of honey on her tongue from the sweet pies they’d eaten at the village baker’s. He dared to part her lips and enjoyed her deeper. They were alone. No escort or guard. His parents weren’t concerned with courting rules anyway. Domhnall made his own choices, and he was not one to corrupt a young, naïve lass. Rosalie was hardly unsophisticated though. She was a person of the world, like him.

A sigh escaped her throat, and he moaned in return.

Stay Tuned….

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