Medieval Monday, autumn-style

Welcome to the start of Medieval Monday for autumn! For the next few months, I’ve joined up with the authors of Medieval Romance Lovers as we embark on the fall theme of "Nature" in our excerpts from our medieval stories. Snippets you'll see each Monday on our blogs will be from our own stories. I am no stranger to nature—I breathe in the scents, glory in the sights, and revel in the sounds, and as a result, nature always plays a role in my novels.

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…

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.

“Look. We’re here.” He loosened his hold on her and hurried ahead to the water’s edge. He squatted, running fingers through a tidal pool.
She came closer, scrutinized. “What is it?”
“Thought you might like these stones. For some reason, this spot always has an abundance of unique stones, pearly, shiny, and interesting colors.” He swept a hand to the horizon as he stood.
“Fascinating.”
“Skye is that way, west, and then the deep wide sea. Then the isles from where my ancestors hailed.”
“I see.” She squinted in the distance. She didn’t crouch, and he turned to face her. Perplexed surprise crossed her expression. He wiped a wet hand on his tunic and took her hands in his. Cheeky. Tempting fate, repeatedly, like a child against a tyrannical parent. He was tired of living life on the periphery, protecting himself from the pain. It was time to live. Time to jump.