By Anne Stuart
Is he a half-mad courtroom jester or an excellent undercover agent for the king?
Lady Julianna is aware this a lot for definite: he's no idiot by way of the artwork of seduction.
Nicholas Strangefellow is a scoundrel prized by means of King Henry himself-a court docket jester. Now despatched to the marriage of the Earl of Fordham to entertain, yet secretly less than orders from the King to carry again a mythical chalice, Nicholas is a guy on a challenge that can simply be bollixed. without notice the probabilities of bollixing elevate merrily while he meets impossible to resist Julianna, the widowed daughter of the bride-to-be.
After a loveless prepared marriage, Julianna plans to hitch a convent. but she unearths herself in wickedly provocative dialog with, of all males, the king's mocking, ribald “wedding current” to the Earl. Nicholas-the jester, the idiot, and an insignificant commoner, who instantly makes a decision to seduce her whereas buying the chalice for King Henry.
What follows is a rollicking comedy, an intrigue spiced with villains and probability, yet so much of all, a young and attractive romance. Nicholas is not often the husband a noblewoman may still decide on, and whilst he is confronted with a decision among hope and betrayal, or loyalty to King and a comfy existence, he will need to confront the surprising fact. that he is develop into a idiot for romance.
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Is he a half-mad courtroom jester or a super undercover agent for the king? woman Julianna is familiar with this a lot for sure: he's no idiot by way of the paintings of seduction. Nicholas Strangefellow is a scoundrel prized by means of King Henry himself-a courtroom jester. Now despatched to the marriage of the Earl of Fordham to entertain, yet secretly lower than orders from the King to carry again a mythical chalice, Nicholas is a guy on a venture which could simply be bollixed.
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Even Sir Richard looked startled. “Lady Julianna hasn’t strayed anywhere, my lord abbot,” he muttered. “We all have strayed in our hearts, Sir Richard,” the priest replied. ” Oh, Christ, Julianna thought miserably. It only needed this. She caught Brother Barth’s warning look and belatedly remembered his advice. She ducked her head dutifully, keeping her gaze downcast. “I look forward to your wise counsel, Father Paulus,” she murmured. She stole a glance at him as she was helped into the litter, but Father Paulus had already dismissed her from his attention, concentrating instead on Sir Richard.
He didn’t move. In truth, she couldn’t blame him— the litter was cramped, stuffed with pillows, and shifting around would be difficult indeed. He managed to turn toward her, just slightly, but she had no choice but to lean up against him in order to reach the leather thongs that bound him. They were almost as stubborn as the cloth knotted around his mouth, and she was so intent on loosening them that it took a while for her to notice a few salient points: how warm and hard his body was against hers, with the resilience of muscle and sinew beneath the soft fabric of his tunic; how still he was, calm and silent, as she struggled with the leather; and how the back of his tunic was slowly staining dark red.
He stared down at Julianna from his perch on the donkey, his bright, colorless eyes blazing down. “I rejoice in the knowledge that I can help lead this stray lamb back into the fold,” he intoned. Even Sir Richard looked startled. “Lady Julianna hasn’t strayed anywhere, my lord abbot,” he muttered. “We all have strayed in our hearts, Sir Richard,” the priest replied. ” Oh, Christ, Julianna thought miserably. It only needed this. She caught Brother Barth’s warning look and belatedly remembered his advice.