New Release — Sir Conrad and the Christmas Treasure by Lindsay Townsend

Maggie’s younger brother, Michael, is kidnapped by outlaws, and it’s up to her to rescue him. Appealing to Sir Conrad, the grim steward of the northern English high lands, is the very last thing she wants to do. With the very real possibility that the outlaws know of Michael’s talent—the ability to open any lock, to reveal any treasure—Maggie races against time to find him before his usefulness to the outlaws is ended.

Sir Conrad desires Maggie from the minute he sees her—she makes him feel alive again—and that has not happened since the death of his wife. Though he hasn’t known Maggie before, a strange feeling of familiarity nags, and he agrees to aid the beautiful peasant girl in this quest of finding her brother. 

Joining forces, Maggie and Sir Conrad form a tenuous bond. When an assassin attacks Maggie, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit, and Conrad realizes that even Maggie doesn’t know the power she holds. But Conrad not only must keep Maggie safe, he must thwart the dangerous devices of his spiteful older brother, Richard, who has lately returned from crusade. 

As love blossoms, Maggie and Conrad must protect one another. Evil is all around them, and doubt is a cruel enemy. Will their faith in each other keep them united? In the world of dangerous courtly intrigue, who is saving whom? Love is all that matters…but can that be enough?

EXCERPT

     Sir Conrad, the steward of the forest high lands, glowered at the latest miscreant to be dragged before him in the great hall of the northern sheriff’s castle. A castle that has never felt like my own, for all I am reluctant steward here.  
     Despite his instructions, Sir David, his under-reeve, would bring the wretches up in chains, even the women. Conrad gripped his sword hilt to stop himself from punching David, and rose from his chair to approach the small, slight figure before him.
     “What, where, and who?” he snapped at his shorter, stockier, second-in-command. The woman—girl, really—did not flinch, which surprised him. 
     Conrad knew he was harsh, unsmiling in his manner. Since Joan had died three winters ago, leaving him a widower and bereft at the age of twenty-four, he had been unable to be anything but cold to anyone. He had no interest in brief affairs. I witnessed too much heartbreak from my father and brother and their parade of mistresses to do the same. Although this girl—
     Now he was looking at her properly, he recognized two things at once. The first was that he wanted her, wanted her badly, with a raw force he had not experienced since he was a squire. Is it the chains? I would chain her to my bed, if I could. She was delicate, with a fragile profile, sweetly upcurving lips, masses of glossy blonde hair and eyes as blue and big as a summer sky. She seemed both graceful and slender, and at the same time, determined—standing straight, poised as a dancer, facing life head on. 
     That was the second thing he realized. The girl was brave. Dressed in her mud-coloured gown, her dirt-spattered, travel-stained tunic and threadbare cloak, in rough leather boots that were splitting at the seams and looked too small for her, she watched him with the poise of a cat, all barely-hidden fire. 

     If she smiles at me I will be lost, and yes, I would certainly like to chain her to my bed. But why did she seem familiar?