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  Table of Contents

  Her Gallant Knight by Catherine Kean

  Patrick by Cathy MacRae

  Sweet Taste of Love by Anna Markland

  Under a Silver Moon by Hildie McQueen

  A Knight Amid Thorns by Laurel O'Donnell

  The Duke Next Door by Meara Platt

  The Taming of Mairi MacKenzie by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Table of Contents

  Quick Start

  Her Gallant Knight by Catherine Kean

  Title

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  About Catherine Kean

  Connect with Catherine

  Also by Catherine Kean

  Patrick by Cathy MacRae

  Title

  Copyright

  Patrick Lindsay

  Viking Words of Interest

  Dedication

  A Note About The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Series

  Patrick

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Note from Cathy MacRae

  More Books by Cathy MacRae

  About Cathy MacRae

  Excerpt from Macleod

  Sweet Taste of Love by Anna Markland

  TITLE

  DEDICATION

  COPYRIGHT

  MORE ANNA MARKLAND

  PROLOGUE

  ATONEMENT

  SOPPING WET

  THE MOOR

  TO MARKET

  NARROW ESCAPE

  WEARY

  FACE TO FACE

  THERE'S A WOMAN IN THE OXCART

  SWARM

  BEESTUNG

  HELP HER

  IS IT LOVE?

  I HAVE FAILED

  TRICKERY

  A WEIGHT LIFTED

  NO MORE WHEEZING

  FLIGHT

  PREPARING FOR A SIEGE

  UNDER ATTACK

  ALL IS WELL

  A LITTLE DEATH

  AN UNINVITED GUEST

  A BEDDING

  EPILOGUE

  RECIPE FOR MEAD

  ABOUT ANNA MARKLAND

  Under a Silver Moon by Hildie McQueen

  Title

  Copyright

  Other Works by Hildie McQueen

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Excerpt from Scarlett, A Summer Bride

  About Hildie McQueen

  A Knight Amid Thorns by Laurel O'Donnell

  Title

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  From Laurel O'Donnell

  About Laurel O'Donnell

  More Books by Laurel O'Donnell

  The Duke Next Door by Meara Platt

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Note from Meara Platt

  Also by Meara Platt

  About Meara Platt

  The Taming of Mairi MacKenzie by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Title

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Personal Note from Sue-Ellen

  Quote from Devorgilla of Doon

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Author's Note from Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  About Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Connect with Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Also by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Available Allie Mackay Titles

  Copyright

  Her Gallant Knight

  A Medieval Romance Novella

  by

  Catherine Kean

  Copyright Details

  Published by Catherine Kean

  P.O. Box 917624

  Longwood, FL 32791-7624

  Her Gallant Knight Copyright © 2018 by Catherine Kean

  Cover design © 2018 by Cora Graphics

  Images © Depositphotos.com

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author

  Chapter One

  Merringstow Castle

  Nottinghamshire, England

  Summer, 1186

  “Are you certain we are allowed inside?” Standing next to her older brother, fourteen-year-old Lady Amelia Bainbridge cast a nervous glance down the shadowed, torch-lit passageway outside the keep’s solar. Surely ’twas wrong to be entering his lordship’s private rooms?

  “Ryder has let me into his sire’s antechamber before,” Tilden said with an encouraging grin. “If anyone questions us, I will say I thought I had permission.”

  Amelia nodded, but her churning stomach didn’t calm in the least. She’d only lived at the castle for just over a sennight, sent by her parents to become a ward of the stern, formidable Lord Stanbury. While she’d been uneasy about moving away from Callingston Keep, her home since she’d been a babe, her parents had impressed upon her the tremendous honor of being fostered by his lordship.

  “He is one of the most revered knights in these lands, and he does not accept every young lady to be his ward. Think of the opportunities you will have, the new friends you
will make,” her mother had insisted, her eyes sparkling. “Your father and I could not be more proud of you—and, of course, of your brother.”

  Tilden had lived at Merringstow for years. At the age of nine, he’d begun serving his lordship as a page, the first step of Tilden’s goal to become a knight and fight for the crown.

  Amelia had always been close to her sibling, and the chance to see him more frequently than the occasional feast or holiday had encouraged her to pack up her belongings and move to Merringstow. She’d become the oldest of three wards who took lessons in embroidery, social graces, and the responsibilities of managing a fortress—all preparation for married life one day.

  While Tilden, who’d advanced to being one of Lord Stanbury’s squires, had many friends here, she was just getting to know the other wards, pages, and squires.

  And then there was Ryder, his lordship’s youngest son—also a squire at the keep. Handsome. Clever. Annoying Ryder.

  She’d known him since they were very young. She’d considered him a dear friend, but since she’d moved to Merringstow, every chance Ryder got, he teased her.

  If she got into trouble with Lord Stanbury, Ryder would never let her forget it.

  Tilden pushed down on the door handle, and dread gripped her. “Mayhap we should leave—”

  “Stop worrying, Amelia.”

  “Are you sure ’tis all right? What if—?”

  The door opened inward, revealing part of a stone floor streaked with sunlight. Shaking her head, Amelia moved backward, stumbling as she stepped on the hem of her long silk gown, but Tilden grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the antechamber then shut the door behind them.

  Sunshine glinted on the numerous swords, daggers, and shields displayed on the chamber walls, but before she could fully glance around the room, a muffled noise drew her gaze to the floor.

  A dun-colored wolfhound lay on her side in a large, cloth-covered bed. Five dozing puppies lay alongside her. Oh, but they were beautiful pups.

  The mother remained still but watched intently as Tilden slowly drew Amelia toward the dogs. He knelt beside the bed, and as the mother lifted her head and started to rise, he stroked her, calming her. Amelia also sank down to her knees, her gown pooling around her.

  “Look at them,” she whispered in wonder.

  “Ten weeks old. His lordship bred his two favorite wolfhounds for this litter.” Tilden grinned, looking so much like their sire in that moment. “I know how much you like animals, especially puppies.”

  “I do.” She’d enjoyed caring for litters birthed by her father’s hounds.

  A pup, who’d been woken by his mother’s stirrings, whimpered. He was an adorable fellow with silver-gray fur. Tears pricked her eyes, for she’d been very homesick since she’d left Callingston Keep, but seeing these young dogs eased the ache in her breast.

  “I thought visiting these pups might cheer you up,” her brother murmured.

  “You were right.”

  The silver-gray puppy was sitting up now and studying her. Several of the other pups were also stirring.

  “Want to hold that gray one?” Tilden asked.

  Oh, she did! “Do you think ’twill be all right?”

  “The mother is friendly, and Ryder has let me hold the pups before.” Tilden picked up the puppy and handed it to her. As she slipped one arm around its middle and the other under its hindquarters for added support, its inquisitive gaze met hers. Her heart squeezed with love.

  Tilden chuckled. “Careful, now. Do not get too attached.”

  “How can I not?” Amelia kissed the pup’s muzzle.

  “There are three males and two females. So Ryder told me.”

  ’Twas the second time her brother had spoken of Ryder. Jealousy stirred, but she mentally swept it aside, for Ryder would not ruin this cherished moment for her. Yet, ’twas hard to ignore thoughts of the lad she’d known for so long, and who had spent summers with them at Callingston. No longer was he the wiry, often clumsy boy who’d raced through fields and along lakeshores in search of adventure, and who’d cried when the sickly fawn he’d rescued from the forest had died. Fifteen now like Tilden, with tousled brown hair and broad shoulders, he’d hidden his sensitivity behind arrogance, and his stride bore an insolent swagger.

  The other wards at Merringstow were infatuated with him. They preened and giggled when he walked past, and he obviously enjoyed the attention. She, however, refused to swoon. He might be the ruling lord’s son, but she didn’t like who he’d become. He seemed to seize any opportunity to humiliate her. The second day she’d been at Merringstow, he’d taken her eating dagger, a gift from her late grandmother, during the midday meal; thinking the knife had fallen off the table, she’d searched the dirty rushes for some time before he’d plucked the knife from its hiding spot in an arrangement of flowers. The fourth day, he’d dropped a live frog in her soup, and the fifth—

  The puppy squirmed and nuzzled her fingers. “I think he is hungry,” Amelia said. As she set the dog back in the bed, a faint creak sounded behind her: the sound of the chamber door opening.

  As she quickly rose and faced the doorway, Ryder said, “There you are, Tilden. We have been looking for you.”

  Dressed in an emerald green tunic and black hose tucked into polished leather boots, Ryder stepped inside, followed by two squires—brothers—who were also good friends of Tilden’s: a brown-haired lad named Stephen, and a blond young man called Gladwin. As several puppies ambled out of the bed to see the newcomers, Ryder shut the door and leaned his shoulder against the wall. Stephen crouched to pet the dogs, while Gladwin hung back, observing.

  Tilden rose, brushing dust from his knees. “I thought Amelia might like to see your pups.”

  “Father’s pups,” Ryder corrected, crossing his arms.

  Misgiving formed a hard knot in Amelia’s throat. She was going to get into trouble. She and her sibling.

  “We did not mean any harm.” With a sheepish grin, Tilden added, “We did not think you or your sire would mind.”

  “Ah.” Ryder turned slightly to study her, and sunlight played over his features. Fringed by dark lashes, his brown eyes, the color of polished yew, gleamed. His strong cheekbones, inherited from his sire, drew her gaze down to the firm slash of his mouth. When he tilted his head to better scrutinize her, his wavy, chestnut brown locks shifted at his shoulders.

  He did not appear at all likely to compromise. Trying not to fidget, Amelia clasped her hands together.

  “Would your father mind?” Uncertainty threaded through Tilden’s words, and she wished she could slip her fingers into his, as she’d done before, to comfort him. He wouldn’t like that sisterly show of affection, though, in front of his friends.

  “My father might mind very much,” Ryder said. “He will be angry indeed if you are late for the feast and not wearing your best clothes, as he ordered.”

  His lordship had made it very clear that his guest arriving that day—Lord Edsel Palmer, a high-ranking official of the Knights Templar—was to be treated with the utmost courtesy. Neither she nor Tilden had changed their garments yet; they’d only intended to spend a moment with the dogs before going to their chambers to get ready.

  Panic flared. “I should go and dress,” she murmured. “If you will excuse me—”

  “Wait.” Ryder halted her before she’d taken two steps toward the door. He nudged Stephen, who was playing with a pup, with the toe of his boot. “Leave. You too, Gladwin, and not a word about this matter to anyone.”

  The two brothers quit the chamber, and Ryder eased away from the wall. Oh, mercy. Surely Ryder wasn’t going to tell his sire about finding her and Tilden with the dogs? She must convince him not to speak of it. “Please, Tilden was only trying to be kind.”

  Ryder’s dark brows rose. “Kind?”

  “He knows how much I adore animals. As do you.”

  Wariness touched Ryder’s expression, as if he didn’t want to be reminded of the boy he’d once been. T
hen his stare hardened. “Because we are old friends, I will make sure my sire does not find out you were here today.”

  Relief rushed through her. “Thank you.”

  Tilden nodded. “Aye, many thanks—”

  “There is, however, a cost for my silence.”