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An Oath Broken -- Diana Cosby

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An Oath Broken
Historical Romance
ISBN: 978-1-60183-309-9

“Diana Cosby is superbly talented.” NYT Bestselling Author - Cathy Maxwell

Lady Sarra Bellacote would sooner marry a boar than a countryman of the bloodthirsty brutes who killed her parents. And yet, despite—or perhaps because of—her valuable holdings, she is being dragged to Scotland to be wed against her will. To complicate the desperate situation, the knight hired to do the dragging is dark, wild, irresistible. And he, too, is intolerably Scottish.

Giric Armstrong, Earl of Terrick, takes no pleasure in escorting a feisty English lass to her betrothed. But he needs the coin to rebuild his castle, and his tenants need to eat. Yet the trip will not be the simple matter he imagined. For Lady Sarra isn’t the only one determined to see her engagement fail. Men with darker motives want to stop the wedding—even if they must kill the bride in the process.

Now, in close quarters with this beautiful English heiress, Terrick must fight his mounting desire, and somehow keep Sarra alive long enough to lose her forever to another man…

Read Excerpt | Read Reviews

 

reviews

What people are saying about An Oath Broken...

"Cosby gives you it all - passion, danger, lush history and a touch of magic. Excellent reading." NYT Bestselling Author -- Hannah Howell

Reading Diana Cosby's novels, I'm distinctly taken back to reading Voyager, my first Diana Gabaldon!"  - Kim Castillo

“Diana Cosby’s stories takes us to another time and place and we can escape everyday life for a little while.” - Maggie Stickles, VA, USA

“It's always a good day snuggling up to a Diana Cosby book!" - Cindy Westfall

“Diana Cosby is a master at weaving tales of risk, danger and love, all of which make her characters simply vibrate on the stage of medieval Scotland.” -- Award-winning Author Mary J. Forbes

"An Oath Broken by Diana Cosby is amazing!" — Ashley Reader Granger PA, TN, USA

excerpt

Three blasted days now she’d made him and his men wait, and with her heading to her chamber, the lass would make it four.  By God, he would speak with her this night!

Once shielded from the great hall, Giric Armstrong, Earl of Terrick, took the steps up the turret two at a time.  A wisp of her ivory linen gown twisted ahead of him with an elusive swirl, then was lost in the shadows.

Giric rounded the corner and caught her figure clearly silhouetted within the torchlight from the wall sconce.  “Lady Sarra.”

Leather kid slippers scraped over stone as she turned.  The flutter of flames outlined her like a dark angel.  Wariness flared in her eyes.

He took a step closer, damning her beauty, lured by her spirit.

Her hand slid to the side of her gown.  With a flick of her wrist, she withdrew a slim dagger from the folds.  “Halt.”  Her ominous warning echoed in the darkened void, edged with a hint of fear.

Saint’s breath, did the lass think she could hold her own against him with a mere blade?  “I mean you no harm, my lady.  I wish but a brief moment of your time.”

That small pert nose lifted a fraction, like a warrior would raise his shield. “How dare you steal about and corner me in my own home.”

“If you had talked to me instead of avoided me, I would nae have had to resort to such extreme measures.”

A sliver of torchlight glinted off the dagger in her hands.  “Leave me.  I will grant you an audience when I deem the time appropriate.”

If she believed he could be swayed by flashing a weapon before him or a terse command, she was about to learn otherwise.  He wasna one of her servants she could order about.  He took a step closer.  “We need to discuss our departure.”

She flinched, but she held her ground.

Determined to keep his temper, he drew a calming breath.  “My Lady, our acquaintance has begun poorly.”  Her narrowing eyes chinked at his hard-won control, and the fact that she hadna lowered the blade didna help either, but he pressed on.  “Let us begin anew, this time in the proper manner.  Let me introduce my—”

“No!”  Lady Sarra stepped forward, the dagger tight in her grip.  “I will leave Rancourt Castle at my discretion.  Your name as well as your demands are of little consequence.  Try my patience further, Sir Knight, and you will find yourself housed within my dungeon this night instead of on a pallet of straw.”  As regal a queen, she sheathed her dagger and strode up the steps.

Fury slammed through Giric.  He was wrong.  With a woman like her, nae even a saint could keep his temper in check.

On a curse he bolted up the steps.


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