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Sometimes you need to lose it all | The Princess and the Marquess @AliyahBurke96 #Interracial #HistoricalRomance



Sometimes you need to lose it all to discover what is truly important.
Lucien St. Martin, Marquess of Heartstone, is ordered to travel to the "uncivilized" part of the world. America. Little does he know, everything is about to shift on its axis.

Ciara McKay is known as "the heart of the mountain." Her world is changed the day she encounters a strange man near death on her mountain. Long winter nights lead to explosive passions before they part. Seven years pass before they meet again.

Can they overcome the "accepted" rules of society? Or will "the heart of the mountain" cease to be? Is it possible that Lucien can convince her to give them another chance? Will Ciara accept her destiny that together is the only way for them to be--as the princess and the marquess?


EXCERPT
Ciara shivered as the cold wind blew around her. I should have worn my heavier coat. Dressed in her buckskins, she did a final check on her winter wood supply. It should last. Her father had made a shed right outside the cabin and she had spent the past few months ensuring it was stocked full. It was. Her food larders were full also. A grin split her face as she gazed over at the valley below her. She took a slow, deep breath of the crisp air and turned to Faolan, who was stretched out on the ground fast asleep. Snow was coming—she could smell it in the air and see it in the clouds.
“Get up, old man. We have one more stop to make.”
At her voice, Faolan rose to stand beside her. His head was higher than her hip and he was a sinister-looking wolf. He leaned on her and Ciara knew that the wolf could push her over if he wanted to. Ciara pulled on his ear with affection before she headed off.
With a quick stop-off at the cabin she picked up her cloak and herb pouch. The rain had started and she knew that by this evening there would be snow on the ground. Ciara started a fire to make sure her cabin would be nice and warm when they returned. After closing the door behind her, she stopped to fix her cloak.
The thickness was one reason she wore it—the hood helped. The main reason was, however, it was a special cloak. She had made it to suit her needs. It had the ability to cover her from head to ankle to wrap her in a cocoon if she wished or had to sleep on the ground, keeping her warm, but it also could be formed to fit her body like a second skin.
There was a row of buttons on the back that she could undo so the cloak would split, which enabled her to secure each half to each leg. The part by her waist could be pulled in for a snug fit. She could go from a woman enveloped by a thick cloak to a woman who looked like she wore heavy clothing.
When she needed to move quickly or carry a kill, she would secure the cloak to her body so there was no loose material. She did so now, not wanting to repeat the drenching experience of last night. Once ready, she set off on her jog she always took through the woods, Faolan by her side.
When the rain switched to snow, she stopped gathering herbs. She rose and turned to head back to the cabin when she heard it.
Faolan hackled and faced toward a deeper part of the woods. It was the growling of a bear. Strange, they should all be sleeping now. Ciara moved forward swiftly, albeit without noise, as she headed for the sound, scanning the ground for signs. The ones she saw didn’t bode well for the object the bear had in its clutches because she noticed the prints of a smaller cub too.
Something came between a mama and her cub.
She heard another noise in there as well. A cry. A moan. A scream. The closer she got, the more uncertain she became. A scrap of cloth caught her attention. It was from a cloak. A person. The bear had a person in its clutches.
Without conscious thought for her own safety, she ran into the small clearing where a bear mauled a man, making him look like a rag doll she’d had as a kid. She screamed at the creature.
“Get away from him! Get out of here!”
Faolan jumped in, drawing the bear’s attention from the man. Faolan kept the bear moving backward to avoid the attack of the large wolf that held no fear. Every time the bear turned to make a circle back to the man, the canine was there to hold him at bay. When Faolan and the bear were clear of the human on the ground, Ciara ran to him. He was alive, but not by much, and unconscious.
She worked fast to make a paste from some of the herbs and falling snow to help staunch the flow of blood. When she had ripped his cloak, what was left of it, off she sucked in her breath.
Thick, silky black hair was plastered to his head. His skin was pale from blood loss, but she knew that it would be a golden tan when he was healthy. Ciara shook her head to regain her wits. He would never make the night here.
Ciara hefted him to an upright position, unfastened her cloak and put it over the shoulders of the man slumped against the tree. The cloak barely fit him.

While she scanned for any signs of the bear or Faolan, she bit her lip in concentration when she realized what she had to do for this man to survive. Ciara crouched down in front of him then put her shoulder into his stomach, as she pulled him so he toppled into her.

She rose slowly as she adjusted the large man who hung over her shoulders, her legs staggering under his weight. When he was secure, she headed off to her cabin. He was carried just like she would carry a kill she made.

However, he wasn’t like any kill she’d made before. Even in as good shape as she was in, she breathed harsh as she entered the copse where her cabin resided. As she approached the cabin, Faolan came from out of the trees unharmed and hit the latch with his head and let himself in before her.

Ciara unceremoniously dumped the man on the bed nearest to the fireplace, the one she’d used when her parents had been alive and they had occupied the only bedroom. She shut the door against the increasing flakes and cold. First, she built up the fire even more, then she prepared some more pastes to heal those wounds and draw out any poison from the bear’s claw marks.

While the paste cooled, she stripped the man on the bed. His chest was broad and covered with a dusting of dark hair. Even with his given wounds she saw he was not a lazy man. He was in good shape so she hoped he would heal without delay, which she told herself was the only reason she looked.

She bathed his chest and applied the paste where necessary, covering his injuries with bandages to keep the plaster in place. There were three wounds that concerned her, but from the way the bear had sounded and acted, she was worried there might be more.

His upper body done, she covered him with a quilt, and after a short struggle to get his breeches off because they were wet with blood, snow and mud, she muttered and slit them with a knife.

She cleaned his scratches and checked for broken bones. His arm had been fractured and she splinted it. His legs seemed to be fine aside from the scores and abrasions. She rolled him over and checked his back, and backside. Other than the three deep gashes that went across his ribs and onto his back, he was clean from any major wounds.

Sure there were no more wounds that needed to be tended, she covered him with thick quilts to keep him warm then saw to herself. She changed into a dry pair of buckskins. She hung his clothes over a chair by the fire then made herself something to eat, but she still checked on her patient every once in a while.

She made some willow bark tea and dribbled it into his mouth, knowing if a fever did hit him, it wouldn’t be good. He seemed to be in a peaceful slumber as she headed for her own bed, the door left open so she could hear him in the night.

“No! Get off me. Damn it, I don’t want to die here.” In a voice that almost broke her heart, he asked the elusive person in his dream, “Why couldn’t you just love me? Why did you hate me so?” Even filled with so much tormented pain, his voice was deep and smooth.

Ciara jumped out of bed at the masculine voice that resonated through her cabin. She flew out to the bed where her stranger lay and noticed that he was thrashing around, covered in sweat. He had a fever.


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