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Heart of Vengeance
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~ Details ~
~ Outline ~
~ Reviews ~
~ Excerpt ~
~ Author’s Note ~
~ Also of Interest ~
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Details
HISTORICAL ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
A woman in search of revenge ~~ An honorable man with a dark past.
- Romantic Times Best Medieval Historical Romance of 2004 Finalist
- 2005 CAPA Awards Best Historical Romance Finalist
Now available from by Cerridwen Press
Outline
To find her father’s killer, Helena of York must pose as a Norman in the great halls of Richard I’s England. Should she be unmasked, her life will be forfeit.
Stephen, Count of Dinan, once Richard’s friend and trusted knight, is outcast for reasons shrouded in mystery. Known as the ‘Black Baron’, he is friendless in a glittering world he despises. His only goal is to restore his honor and once again serve his king.
Helena’s only desire is to kill the man who destroyed her father and her future. Stephen’s suspicions draw him into Helena’s web of deceit, and the two outsiders find themselves tangled in a greater conspiracy that threatens the throne of England itself, while their embattled hearts grapple with a far greater challenge.
Reviews
I really enjoyed the story and recommend it highly. I liked how Ms. Cooper-Posey kept the story historically accurate, and she did much to bring out the shrewdness of Prince John, who always suffers in comparison to his more glamorous parents and brother. He’s still not sympathetic, but he wasn’t a sympathetic figure.
Tracy for Veiled Secrets Reviews
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Heart of Vengeance is historical romance at its best. With perfect amounts of suspense, intrigue and passion the novel is simply impossible to put down. What is most amazing about the novel is the sheer amount of character movement and action. Each event, trip, sequence and time period are fully developed and contain mini stories in and of themselves. The middle of the novel presents a twist so well-developed that it just may cause the reader to sit up straight in shock. Posey’s plot, character development and historical accuracy are incredible skills not to be overlooked. The author has absolutely gained one dedicated fan through this book who simply cannot wait to read what else she has gifted the reading world.
Audrey for Night Owl Reviews
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appeal to you? In the movie Romeo & Juliet
(the 1968 version, of course) did the clandestine meetings between lovers make you gush? If so, I recommend you pick up a copy. Same goes, if you read romances in “any” subgenre, but more specifically historicals, romantic suspense, and medieval love stories.
Historical Elements: I’d like to touch on a key point; accuracy. 1. King Richard’s use of kingdom’s resources to support his crusade (check). 2. King Richard married Berengaria (check). 3. As well as Richard’s use of Château Gaillard (check).
My Thoughts: Reading is subjective, yes. But, I’m convinced the author’s beautiful story, coupled with historical accuracies intertwined in such a way, you couldn’t possibly debate its winning outcome.
Susan for Love Romance Passion
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I would love to tell you all of the ins and outs of this story but it is one that has to be read to truly be appreciated. It is a medieval romance filled with political intrigue and manipulations, scheming mothers, titled yet outlawed Earls, but most of all, love. Though this story is only about 250 pages long it’s truly an epic tale that I thoroughly enjoyed. If you love a good medieval story this would be a great book for you.
Tracy for Tracy’s Place
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Helena of York is posing as a Norman in order to get information on the man who killed her father. Her inquiries lead her into the direct path of Stephen, Earl of Northumbria, more commonly known as the Black Baron.
Stephen having once questioned the king and now rejected, has been walking a fine line maintaining his loyalty to the king and being shunned by his king’s people. Helena has captured the interest of Stephen when he learns she is the Isobel whom he knew when he was young. Stephen is trying to uncover the secret of Helena, but it is not until she truly reveals herself that he realizes he has a choice to make that could destroy him or allow him to be with the one he loves.
Reminiscent of the Robin Hood story, Helena posing as Isobel is a Saxon trying to bring honor back to her father’s name. Exceptionally well written, the reader feels they have walked straight in to the forest and castles which are richly detailed throughout the story. An exciting tale of love, deception, and understanding that things are not always as one sees.
Emily for Single Titles.
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(The following reviews are from the previous edition…)
Finally, another author not afraid to include historic details in her historical romance. After all isn’t that the reason many of us read historicals opposed to other genres?
This was a wonderful story and as I stated earlier full of rich historic details and great characters. I truly felt that I was with Helena of York on her quest to find her father’s killer brought to justice. While doing this she treads a fine line between two different kings and one man that knows her secret, and one man she finds is her strength and her love. The chemistry between the two main characters is wonderful. It doesn’t detract from the story and in fact only adds to it. You can tell that the author did her homework on York and Oxford. I have lived in England previously and have visited both of these wonderful cities. Ms. Cooper-Posey did justice to them both. Not to mention the fact that I loved that she included the myth of Robin Hood. But the most important part of any historical is actual historic figures being included. Again Ms. Cooper-Posey gets added points for including both King Richard and his brother John as part of the colorful cast of characters, as well as creating wonderful secondary characters that are very much a part of the story.
I highly recommend this book to anyone that loves rich details, and a wonderful story that will pull you into the time period. The romance is wonderful and well written. Ms. Cooper-Posey is a truly talented author and one that I will look forward to reading again in the future!
Kristi Ahlers, Amazon’s Top 1000 reviewer
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A great reading experience. Heart of Vengeance is an exhilarating medieval romantic suspense novel that transports the audience to the late twelfth century through historical tidbits and persona interwoven into the delightful plot. Stephen and Helena carry heavy emotional loads so that love is out of the question for both of them, yet neither can deny their feelings for the other. The support cast, especially the also-obsessed Prince John, adds to the feeling of being in Oxford. Though one of the most frequently-used eras in novels and movies, readers receive a refreshing, vivid picture of courtly intrigue inside a fabulous love story.
Harriet Klausner for Barnes & Noble.com
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Heart of Vengeance is a superbly written story of the time of King Richard. The Normans have taken over England and Robert, Earl of Loxley, is ruling Sherwood Forest. Tracy Cooper Posey transports us back to a time long ago, when injustice was normal and earning the king’s disfavor could prove fatal. I really love the way Tracy Cooper Posey used the character of Robin Hood in this story as well. Even though he wasn’t one of main characters, his legend was part of the focus of Heart of Vengeance.
I also enjoyed the strength of the hero and heroine and how they related to each other as equals. Helena is a very strong, capable young woman who has lived with more than her fair share of loss. Stephen was coping with the time he spent as a slave in the Holy Land. This is a very realistic medieval tale I highly recommend.
Chere for The Romance Studio
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With a myriad of secondary characters ranging from King Richard to Robin Hood, Heart of Vengeance captures the reader from the start. Dialogue flows freely between characters, and descriptive narrative is imaginative and bold; pictures of Medieval England floated around in my head. With romance, torture, betrayal, thievery, and evil, Heart of Vengeance makes the grade as a really good story. Make sure this April that Heart of Vengeance is on top of your reading list.
Catherine McHenry for Romance Reviews Today
Excerpt
It was only because Stephen watched her that he noticed her leave. The woman who called herself Isobel had stayed at her place throughout the meal. The guests had eaten well and drunk heartily. Relaxed, their attention had been caught by the performers in the middle of the hall.
Toward the end of the mummers’ performance, she stood and slipped through the door that gave access to the kitchen.
Stephen wondered why she had chosen that direction. He glanced around him. He was being studiously ignored. He was not a comfortable dinner companion, after all but it would work to his purpose now Stephen rose and walked around the edge of the hall so he would not cross anyone’s line of sight and draw attention to himself.
He stepped into into the night. As he did, he saw the woman’s veil and the train of her blue dress as she stepped into the kitchen. He slowed his pace, giving her time to begin her mysterious business. At the kitchen door, he paused to eavesdrop.
She was speaking English fluently and, as far as Stephen could tell, flawlessly. He understood a little of what she said. During the endless days kicking his heels in one great hall after the next, he’d picked up odd words and phrases here and there. But he could not speak it—his tongue would not wrap around the strange vowels. He listened now—she spoke of food, villagers, caution. She also gave instructions on the sharing of parcels.
Stephen lifted the flap of the door curtain and peekd in. She stood at the massive worktable, surrounded by two or three kitchen staff, a cook and, judging by their clothing, peasants who had just stepped in off the street. They were country folk. Standing in the middle of them she appeared a butterfly among weeds. She was taller than all of them—a slim, supple figure clothed in a blue gown that, in the fashion of the court these days, clung to every womanly curve. Her breasts were full and the hips beneath the trim waist flared gently. They were framed by a girdle of silver links that dipped to meet at the front, several of them hanging free in the centre. Her wimple and veil were of the finest white cloth, matching the delicate perfection of her skin.
Isobel rapidly bundled food into hanks of cloth and tied them off. There were already ten or so bundles on the table and a collection of food to one side—cooked meat, dried fruits, preserved and fresh vegetables and bread.
The cook asked a question in a fearful tone. Stephen followed almost all of Isobel’s response. “They will not miss it. They already have full bellies.” She added a few words he could not follow but judging by the way the villagers laughed, it was anything but complimentary. Reassured, the cook handed the bundles to the villagers. Stephen finally understood.
Isobel was stealing food and giving it to the peasants.
Stephen’s surprise propelled him up the steps and into the kitchen before he knew he’d decided to confront her. They were so immersed in their activities they failed to notice him.
“This is a pretty picture,” he said, coming up behind them.
The villagers and the kitchen staff squawked and scattered like threatened chickens. He expected Isobel to do the same, for he had caught her in a crime that carried heavy penalties.
But she whirled with surprising speed and he was astonished, for she held a knife in her hand and hefted it in a way only an experienced knife-fighter used.
Stephen’s instincts recognized danger long before his mind realized it. In response, his body dropped into the loose, easy-jointed posture from which a man could move quickly in any direction, all before the knowledge that she was about to attack registered in his mind.
Then she surprised him yet again by dropping the knife—where had it come from? She didn’t have it in her hands or on the table when he had approached—on the table behind her. “My lord, you startled me.”
“Obviously. Your activities speak of secrecy, if being startled prompts a reaction such as yours.”
She glanced over his shoulder at the villagers and spoke a few words.
“What did you say?” he demanded. Damn but she made him feel like an ignorant fool!
“I told them to go about their business. This is none of their concern.”
They filed through the storage room to the outer doorway on the other side. She had taken them safely out of his way. Out of the way…and with the food.
Isobel watched him calmly. Her eyes really were an exotic shade. The dark blue of the sky late of a summer eve and—yes, they had a black circle around them. Quite the most unusual eyes.
“What do you intend to do with me, my lord?” she asked. She had only to lift her chin a little to look him squarely in the eye.
A tightness grew in Stephen’s belly, the old pleasurable ache. This woman! She was like a fresh sea breeze, refreshing and restoring his soul, stirring his senses awake.
“You speak French as a Breton does,” he said.
“I am from Brittany.”
“So I have been told.”
His tone must have puzzled her, for her eyes narrowed. “My lord?”
She was cautious, this one and brave. She must know he had caught her fairly but she did not shrink from him or throw herself at his mercy.
“Who are you?” Stephen demanded and cursed himself. He didn’t want the truth just yet. It was more interesting to wonder and let the infinite possibilities entertain him.
“I am Isobel, daughter of William, Baron de Buerres—”
“Of Brittany,” he finished for her.
She nodded.
“Why do you not fear me?”
“Should I?”
“I have caught you stealing food.”
A shadow crossed her face too fast for him to determine what it was but he was left with a feeling of irritation.
“My lord, the food goes to mouths far hungrier than ever the barons in the hall have experienced. I have taken very little. In truth, it will not be missed.”
“Why do you do this?”
“They are starving, my lord.”
“They are always starving. It is a protest that never fails when one deals with them.”
“It is a protest that never fails because it is a complaint that is never remedied.” Now the emotion in those wondrous eyes was clear. Anger. It vibrated through her.
“Why do you care for these people so?” he asked, puzzled.
And abruptly, her anger disappeared. It did not fall away, or ease. No, it was more like she had withdrawn it. In one short breath she had pummeled it into submission.
Again, the question whispered in his mind. Who is this woman who speaks fluent English? Who cares for peasants and steals food for them? Who stares at me as if I was a normal man and not a god-forsaken freak? Who is this woman who challenges me with anger when she is the guilty one?
She drew another breath. “You have yet to tell me what you intend to do with me, my lord.”
“And you have yet to tell me why you do not fear me.”
“I fail to understand why I should.”
Her indifference galled him. He stepped closer. There was barely a hand’s span between them. Stephen wanted to see something in her eyes that would tell him he had made an impression on her. This close, however, he smelled her scent—a light, feminine scent that brought to mind a memory-sense of the softness of a woman’s flesh, the taste of kisses, of lips against his.
Stephen’s heart thudded and his body thrummed with tension. His thoughts shifted, scattered. He should step away from her but to do so would signal his weakness.
“Everyone fears me,” he said, forcing himself to string the words together. They emerged harsh and dry. “Why not you?”
“Do you intend me harm?” She did not sway from him and she could not step back, for the table was at her back. Instead she tilted her chin so she could look him in the eye.
“I could rip your heart from your body.”
Her expression did not change but did he merely imagine the rapid rise of her chest beneath her bodice?
“A boast most crusaders can fulfill,” she agreed, her voice low. Controlled. “And you have the mark of the crusader about you. Yet you have forgotten I am armed. Could you take my heart when I am ready to defend myself?”
Stephen felt the prick of a blade at his side, at the exact place where she had only to push and the knife would slide between bones to the death point.
Anger spurted but it was smothered by a fresh well of excitement. Long dormant feelings stirred in the dark reservoir of his soul, rolling over as if prodded from sleep. Their movement gave off a wave of energy.
Stephen snatched at her wrist and caught it in his hand. “You would do well to fear me, my lady. Even if I choose not to take your heart, I could take all meaning from your life. All I have to do is call for the guards. They will arrest you. You will be put on trial and your punishment carried out.”
“Call them.” Yes, her breath grew short. The full lips, shaded a delicate pink, parted a little.
“They do not cut off your hand for stealing here. They hang you. Before you are quite dead they cut you down and stretch you between four galloping horses. And when you are sure you will die if you are given more pain, they slice you open and then spread your insides out for all to see.”
Her face was a blank shield but she took another long breath. Drawing courage? “You do not frighten me, my lord. I have been threatened with worse and lived to tell the tale.”
Of all the astonishing things she had said and done, this was the most surprising. She was a young woman, undoubtedly a maiden. What could she possibly know of the harsh life at which she hinted?
Yet she was experienced with the knife. He would wager she had drawn blood with it at least once.
Her skin was like alabaster and just as hard and cold. Everything he said had struck against that impenetrable shield and slid away, leaving no impression.
Stephen yearned to crack that façade, to see her respond to him as a real person. He pulled her up against him, wrapped his arm around her waist and used his body to hold her fast. His left hand was occupied in keeping her knife hand away from him. He wanted her immobile so he could watch her face. He did not want to miss the smallest change in her expression.
The impact of that slim, soft body against his was like the goad of a whip. Stephen’s whole body tightened in response. Even his heart seemed to pause to take stock. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, to concentrate. Above all, he would not show this woman the effect she had upon him. Not when she appeared so indifferent.
“I know you are not the real Isobel,” he whispered, his voice thick.
There! He saw the tiniest catch of her breath, a widening of the nostrils, as if she had gasped. And did her lips part a little in shock?
“You jest, my lord.” Her voice did not waiver. “Of course I am Isobel. Who else would I be? The Lady Catherine sponsored my return to the court at my request. I wrote to her from the abbey at Fontrevault—”
He shook his head. “I don’t know who you really are. Not yet. But you are not Isobel. Your accent is almost flawless but it isn’t perfect. I am a native of Brittany too, Lady Isobel. We played together as children. Do you remember me?”
Now he saw emotion. It wasn’t quite fear. Not yet. “That was a long time ago,” she countered.
“Not long enough for me to forget eyes like yours. You are not Isobel. All that remains to be answered is who you really are and why you are masquerading as a Norman noblewoman.”
The telltale quiver of her jawbone at the edge of her wimple betrayed her. “You have no proof. I have references, letters bearing witness—”
“I am sure they are all quite genuine too. I don’t know who you are but I do know you would be thorough in that regard.”
“I am Isobel of Brittany.”
“You are a liar and a thief.”
“One who had your life at the end of her knife a short while ago and let you live.”
“Ah, yes, that…” Stephen gave her wrist a strong wrench and the knife fell from her useless fingers. He plucked it from midair with the same hand. He reached under the back of her veil with the other to grasp the two thick braids and pulled her head back, exposing her chin. He rested the knifepoint against her throat and pushed back the fine material of the wimple. Her throat beneath felt slim and warm. “Shall I save you from the hangman’s noose?” he whispered. “One quick thrust is all that is necessary.”
The woman’s heart thundered. Stephen felt the reverberations against his body, yet she spoke calmly. “Call the guards. I would rather take my risk with the hangman.”
Who is this woman? he wondered yet again. The need to know her real identity was almost an ache in him.
“Have you really faced a fate so terrible you do not fear quartering?” he asked.
Her gaze dropped and Stephen guessed what she was thinking.
“Or is it,” he added, “you feel you have more opportunity to escape your fate between now and your appointed hour at the gallows?”
Her gaze met his quickly and then slid away again.
“You’ve courage, my lady,” he told her gently.
Then, fighting against every male instinct, Stephen forced himself to let her go and stepped back.
The woman who called herself Isobel straightened slowly, rubbing her wrist and watched him warily.
He dropped the knife to the tabletop where it landed point first, quivering. “I suggest you clear away the evidence of your activities,” he said and pointed to the remains of the food on the table.
“You are not having me arrested?”
“It is of no consequence to me if Prince John’s man is deprived of his food. He has much of it. Enough to feed a less than welcome guest.” The last emerged with a bitterness he hadn’t suspected he held.
Isobel frowned. “We haven’t been properly introduced. Your name, my lord?”
“As you refuse to tell me yours, a proper exchange of names is out of the question, isn’t it?”
“I have told you my name.”
“Isobel of the enchanting eyes, yes.” He swept into a short bow. “Stephen of Dinan at your service, my lady.”
“Stephen? Count of Dinan?” The emotion he had wanted to produce in her appeared at last. Alarm and horror washed over her. Isobel’s hand crept, not to her mouth but to her heart. “You are the black baron.” It was a whispered confirmation.
And Stephen felt a bone-deep weariness seep through him. He had brought this upon himself, this unhappy flood of fear in her face. He had enjoyed the few moments when she had looked at him as an equal—no, as less than an equal. For a while she had actually found him a petty annoyance. Because he had wanted to make an impression on her, his actions had reduced her to the same wariness he saw in every face around him Ah, the consequences of following one’s wants.
“Yes, I am the dreaded black baron,” he admitted dryly.
Isobel tugged her knife out of the table, slipped it into a small loop in her girdle and stood straight and tall in front of him. “You must forgive me, my lord. I mistook you for one of the count’s men. Perhaps it would be best if I leave.”
“Perhaps it would be best,” he agreed.
She swept past him, heading for the door.
“Would you tell me your name?” he asked her. “What do I call you?”
“You will never again need a name by which to call me.” Isobel turned back to face him. “My lord, you have treated me with kindness and I would give you my real name if I could. But I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Knowing who I am would be dangerous for you.”
“For me?” He almost laughed. “I think you and I bestow the word ‘danger’ upon different things.”
“Perhaps. I will have to be the judge of that, for as you have preserved my life this night, I will do the same for you.” She inclined her head, the acknowledgment of a peer. “Good night, my Lord Dinan.”
And with a graceful sweep of her train, she left.
Author’s Note
I was very pleased that Heart of Vengeance was released in paperback — I have an especial weakness for the hero, Stephen, and his lady Helena. I’ve always wanted to write a book set in this era, and it was fun to research, plot and write this one. And I’m so pleased that Cerridwen Press have picked up Heart of Vengeance for publication again. I’ve had so many readers telling me they can’t get enough of the medieval romances. Well, here you go. Another one for your collection.
Also of Interest
Heart of Vengeance was released in German, and I wrote about the experience in It Might Read Better in Klingon.
Copyright
© 1999 - 2010 Tracy Cooper-Posey 