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A maiden for the mercenary
Mercenary knight Rhain is living on borrowed time. With a vengeful warlord pursuing him, he has accepted his fate—though first he must get his men to safety.
When he rescues mysterious and deeply scarred Helissent from her attackers, Rhain soon wishes he wasn’t marked for death. He can never be the man she deserves—his scandalous lineage alone dictates that—but Rhain can’t resist the temptation to show this innocent maiden how beautiful she truly is...
An unearthly growl resounded as a man leapt out of the darkness.
‘Let her go!’
His cold voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Terror gripped her even harder and the two men tightened their grips. Through her watering eyes she saw a supplicant expression now masked Rudd’s face. She knew that unctuous curve of his lips when he wanted to appease a customer.
‘Here, now, this is none of your concern,’ Rudd said. ‘We only want a bit of privacy.’
‘You harm a woman, you’ll get no privacy except in death.’
The words were menacingly calm.
There was a whoosh of breath and the sharp thump of one captor’s body, as if someone had kicked him down.
She watched Rudd’s smug face draw white with fear as he ran towards the trees and disappeared.
The man crouched near her, his elbows resting on his legs, his hands hanging between them. Empty hands. His scabbard was bare and there was no sword at his feet.
‘You’re safe now. They’re gone.’
NICOLE LOCKE discovered her first romance novels in her grandmother’s closet, where they were secretly hidden. Convinced that books that were hidden must be better than those that weren’t, Nicole greedily read them. It was only natural for her to start writing them—but now not so secretly.
Books by Nicole Locke
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
Lovers and Legends
The Knight’s Broken Promise
Her Enemy Highlander
The Highland Laird’s Bride
In Debt to the Enemy Lord
The Knight’s Scarred Maiden
Visit the Author Profile page at at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.
The Knight’s Scarred Maiden
Nicole Locke
Ode to a house right next door. So handy to pop over for nibbles, a chat, copious amounts of champagne.
Ode to a stairwell landing propped with pillows and treats. For my kids, made comforting like a warm hug, adventurous like a magic carpet.
Ode to David and Cydonie. This book wouldn’t have been written but for you and those chats and that champagne.
I treasure our friendship more than the longest of hugs and the grandest of adventures. More than all the bubbles in every raised fluted glass that ever was…or will be.
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