Hello, darlings. I can’t believe it’s almost Thanksgiving, and Christmas is right around the corner. Oh my! Where has the time gone?

I’ve been busy with my new job at Barnes and Noble while still writing in my free moments. This year was a whirlwind of change and adjustment for all of us. But I’m excited to see what direction this new wind takes us.

On November 28th, my alter ego, Jen Bradlee, releases her prequel to the Prince of Whispers Trilogy. Her Wicked Knight will focus on Guy and Marian’s first meeting and bumpy courtship. I say bumpy, but it’s more like a face-off between enemies who must begrudgingly work together toward a common goal.

Don’t let that fool you. Guy falls for Marian first…and he falls hard. The banter is absolutely delightful, and the tension is *chef’s kiss*. You’ll fall in love with these two idiots in their medieval adventure. (And yes, the idea was absolutely inspired by Guy and Marian from BBC’s Robin Hood. Richard Armitage is undeniably gorgeous in that one.) Check out the teaser below and let me know what you think.

The Grim Knight shows no mercy.

The Baron of Ravinell is dying, and his daughter, Marian Blackwood, must assume the mantle of responsibility. When the reivers threaten her lands and her people, she pleads for aid from the king. His solution…a garrison of soldiers led by the notorious Grim Knight, Sir Guy Silverthorne.

Tempers clash, igniting a battle of wills and passions. The neighboring lord proposes marriage in exchange for a sheltering harbor, but Marian vows never to bind herself to any man. When the raids persist, Marian is forced to choose between a man she barely tolerates and a man who stirs both desire and loathing.

Bound by a foolhardy agreement, Marian surrenders her body in exchange for Sir Guy’s aid. But uncovering a sinister plot reveals a larger threat, and nothing can save them from a fate worse than death…being branded a traitor to the crown.

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Chapter One

London, England 1415

Mistress Marian Ravenwood of Ravinell would much rather dine with her father’s hogs than beg for an audience with King Henry V and suffer the pomposity of those around him. She preferred the animals’ poor manners and honest stench to the company of the lords and ladies of the royal court.

And yet, duty demanded sacrifice. With a false smile pasted on her lips, she greeted everyone with measured civility. So long as she remained in motion, none could corner her with false sentiments of concern for her father’s health or to question the stability of his lands.

There was not one soul among them she could trust. Not even King Henry.

“Have you seen him?” One lady whispered behind her, dramatically adding, “The Grim Knight?”

“Saints. Is he here?” another replied, her voice low.

Marian gritted her teeth, eager to be away from the gossip. She cared little for courtly games or incessant murmurs. The whispers sounded like ravens feasting on rotting flesh.

“Rumor has it, the king granted him a holding in the north for his service to the crown.” Another whisper brushed her.

“The Grim Knight,” a breathy sigh echoed. “I have heard tell he is as handsome as he is bloodthirsty.”

“They say he has slaughtered thousands,” yet another lady said, her voice drowning in mock horror. “Bathing in the blood of innocents. Slaughtering men in his path. Raping women before slitting their throats. Pillaging enemy villages, selling children to slavers.”

The whispering women gasped.

Marian scoffed at the outlandish tales, moving to a quiet place to await her audience with the king, her stomach already twisted in knots at the thought of revealing her desperation. With so many eager to gossip, she wondered at the wisdom of her request for aid during such a spectacle.

’Twas little wonder the kingdom struggled under the yoke of adversity. The court cared nothing for what was beyond the walls of their protected holdings, even while basking in the misfortune of others. Trapped in such garish flamboyancy, Marian was left with no illusion as to the nobility’s true nature. They cared only for themselves and their pockets. None here knew the value of an honest day’s labor or the gnawing hunger of an empty larder.

The king would hear her plea for aid, then she would return home. It was the sole reason for this arduous journey from Cumberland to London. After her father had become ill, many of the baron’s responsibilities had fallen to her shoulders, as she was the only child of the Baron Ravinell. She had risen to the occasion and followed her father’s instructions, ensuring they were carried out to the letter.

Then the raids increased from one or two a year to the same number in a month. Her lands, her people were suffering from the actions of those who raped and pillaged the villages along the border. Naught could be done but to petition the king to seek out the raiders and end their ruthless attacks on his subjects.

“Mistress Marian.” A familiar voice drifted to her through the sea of courtiers.

Marian turned to find Lord Graham de Bough, baron of a neighboring estate to her father’s, a goblet in hand, eyeing her with amusement.

“My lord.” She bobbed a curtsy.

“Well, is this not a pleasant surprise?” He smiled with easy charm. “Had I known you were coming to London, I would have offered to personally escort you.”

“You are too kind, my lord.” Unease settled over Marian as curious gazes fell upon them. She’d known Graham since they were children, and she was loath to give the court any morsel to gnaw upon.

“How is your father?” Graham’s concern melted her reservations. “I take it he is too unwell to travel, as you are here in his stead.”

“On the contrary. Father is doing well, but such a tiresome journey could cause him to relapse into an unfit state.” The lie slipped easily from her tongue. “I offered to come in his stead.”

A glimmering ray of sunlight from a nearby window struck Graham, illuminating his golden hair and radiant blue eyes, bluer than the sky stretching overhead in the summer. He smiled. “Of course.”

“What brings you to London, my lord?” Marian smoothed the soft fabric of her skirts. Her nerves twisted in a knotted ball of yarn in the pit of her stomach.

“I had some business matters.”

“But why are you here?” she whispered conspiratorially.

His knowing smile eased her fluttering nerves. “I have come purely for the entertainment of watching them all grovel for favor.”

“You take enjoyment in their discomfort?”

He lifted his shoulder in a noncommittal fashion. The rich vibrant fabrics he wore merged perfectly with the opulence around them…and yet, for all his ability to blend in with this world, he stood apart. Whether it was his handsome gilded appearance or his smoldering charm, one could not be certain. One thing Marian knew, when she stood thus, speaking with him, she almost felt the comfort of home. Almost.

The reminder of home and the problems that awaited her there sobered her instantly.

“Why have you come to London, my lady?”

His question lingered for several heartbeats.

“The…incidents on our land have increased. Our tenants can no longer bear the strain and ask for protection from the ongoing raids.” Marian folded her hands together and met his concerned gaze.

“They are becoming more of a problem.” He pondered for a moment. “Have you brought this to the attention of Lord Hayworth, your neighbor to the west?”

“I have. He has not offered much in the way of support or solution.” Marian sighed in exasperation. “There is nothing I can do now but petition the king for aid.”

“If we join forces, we could create something to be reckoned with.” His eyes sparkled. “Our marriage would combine two powerful families. No one would dare cross us. The raids would end. Peace and prosperity would reign.”

Marian’s face warmed at his offhand proposal. “Your offer is gracious, my lord, but I am unconvinced our union would be enough to bring an end to the terror and bloodshed.”

“Perha—” Graham’s reply died abruptly as the air in the room shifted.

A darkness permeated the glittering gathering. Marian turned toward the entrance, where a tall man, clad in black leather, stepped into the throng of courtiers. His dark head towered above the rest, moving through the crowd, a grim specter gliding through a field of roses.

Marian gasped as his attention drifted across her. His dark, haunting eyes lingered on her for several breaths before he pivoted away.

“Is something wrong, my lady?” Graham asked.

“All is well.” She pressed a hand to her bodice and smiled. “If you will excuse me, I must prepare for my audience with the king.”

“Of course. If you require my services, please do not hesitate to ask. I am your humble servant.”

His bow left her warm and uncertain. Why couldn’t she just accept his suit and solve her problems without involving the king or his court?

Because you do not love him. Marian scoffed at the small voice in her mind. Love. What was love but a novelty? A wish. A dream. Fanciful and wonderful, but unrealistic. Her dreams of love had died when she was young, when she realized how the world truly worked and what value her life truly held.

Love would not protect her people. Love would not return her father’s health.

She crossed the room, weaving through courtiers. She needed to speak with the king and leave as quickly as possible. Another moment trapped in this room and she would go mad.

As she rounded the corner, Marian collided with a wall. She steadied herself, pressing her hand against it. Warmth infused her fingertips.

She jerked her hand away from…not a wall but the firm chest of the dark interloper. Instead of offering an apology, he glowered at her.

“I beg your pardon.” Marian huffed at his lapse in manners but managed to—barely—keep hold of her own.

“You should be aware of your surroundings.”

The timbre of his voice left her breathless. Deep as a fathomless pit, it shook her senses.

The words formed meaning in her mind.

“How dare you insinuate I am unaware of my surroundings.” Marian took stock of their position. They were at the edge of the crowd, tucked in a small alcove along the side of the room. “It is you who lurks in shadows, waiting to prey on the unsuspecting.”

He scoffed. “If it takes so little to unsettle you, I wonder at your ability to survive this cruel world.”

Marian snapped her mouth closed. He had a point, but she would not give him satisfaction by acknowledging it. She studied him for a long moment, taking full measure of the man before her.

Tall as an oak and nearly as broad, he wore not a stitch of color. Clothed in black from head to toe, he left an intimidating impression. Upon closer inspection, she noted his eyes—framed by impossibly thick lashes—were not black as she’d previously thought, but a deep amber with dark green woven through like an embroidered tapestry. Black waves of thick hair fell around his face.

Saints, but he was striking.

“Your name, sir, so I might notify the king of such an impudent cur at his court?”

A deep chuckle escaped him, the sound striking her with the force of an arrow piercing its target. Curse him.

“The king knows of my exploits and…personal proclivities.” His lips curled into a sneer. “And he not only celebrates them but handsomely rewards them.”

“A man of your position should help those in need not lord his status over those he deems less worthy.” Marian matched his stance, tilting her head to hold his intense gaze.

“And what of your name? It seems you have you lost your manners as well.” His sneer transformed to a feral grin. “Or shall I give you a name suited to a beastie of your temperament?”

“You, sir, have proven yourself unworthy of the honor of my company. I would rather gnaw off my arm than hear my name from your foul lips.”

“His Majesty, King Henry V.” An attendant announced the king’s arrival above the rippling conversation of the crowd.

As the room fell to order, Marian took one final look at the black-clad bastard before spinning on her heel, away from his brooding glare. Turning her back to him might have been unwise, but it left her with lingering satisfaction.

She took her place with the other courtiers awaiting their opportunity to petition the king. Her heart thundered in her chest as the room settled into silence when the king appeared.

Everyone bowed low and waited patiently.

When her name was called, she approached the king with humility and grace. Curtsying low, she waited for him to speak.

The attendant introduced her. “Marian Ravenwood, daughter of Jonas Ravenwood, Baron of Ravinell, Your Majesty.”

“Rise,” King Henry said with a wave of his hand. “Proceed.”

Unable to focus on anything but her plea, Marian explained the dire situation in which her people found themselves with the same passion as when she spoke with Graham. She highlighted the necessity of maintaining law and order to quell the increasing violence on the border with Scotland.

“What would you have me do?”

“My liege, I beg of you, send a garrison of soldiers to ferret out the raiders and to protect your loyal subjects from these atrocities.” Marian bowed her head.

The king pondered her words. After a few moments, he summoned his attendant. Their whispers left the courtiers in strained silence. A cough echoed through the room. When the king straightened, Marian held her breath.

“Your pleas have been heard, Mistress Ravenwood.” King Henry inclined his head. “I shall provide a small band of soldiers to aid you.”

Relief nearly pulled her to the ground. “May God grant you mercy, Your Majesty.”

“To guarantee these brigands are brought to justice and to ensure efficient results, I shall send my most valued knight.”

Marian rose to her full height. “Your most valued knight, Your Majesty?”

“Aye.” The king stood, and his voice echoed through the room. “Sir Guy Silverthorne, step forward.”

The crowd murmured with excitement as they parted to reveal the one man Marian hoped never to see again, the tall, black-clad bastard who had dared to challenge her. His eyes danced with malevolent merriment when they fixed on her. Damn him.

Sir Guy Silverthorne came beside her and bowed. “I am your humble servant, my liege.”

The heat of him surrounded her at his proximity. She loathed being this close to him. How could she possibly reject the generosity of the king by begging for another knight—any other knight—to accompany the garrison? The thought of sharing her home, her companionship, with this man for any length of time left her ill.

With a wave of his hand, the king dismissed them both.

Marian ignored the curious courtiers as she took her leave. She cared not whether the horrible black knight followed. This battle would have a new enemy, and not the one she’d intended.

When she thought of the journey home in his company, her mood worsened. Perhaps she should have considered Graham’s proposal more seriously. His company was certainly more enjoyable. Curse them all.