Lord
Griffin’s Prize
Katalina
Leon
Part of the Emerald Isles Fantasies
series
Tullamore
Castle Ireland is an enchanted place where the unexpected happens. Phantom
lovers materialize in haunted beds and a lonely griffin patrols the ramparts
waiting to reclaim its mate. And that’s just the beginning.
For the
adventure of a lifetime Maeve de’Burgo visits Tullamore to study genealogy. Through
a magical act and time travel she becomes embroiled in a dangerous medieval
romance and the unfinished life of her ancestor. Maeve gets thrown back in time
to be captured, ravished and cherished as a war chief’s prize.
Ronan
O’Griofa is a griffin-shifter, the most loyal of creatures. He’s been trapped
in limbo as the avenging guardian of Tullamore since 1332 AD and longs to be
free. When the soul of his wife returns to the castle he’s granted the
privilege of becoming a man for one day to be her lover, win her heart and remind
Maeve of a bond strong enough to last an eternity.
Here's an excerpt: Maeve's arrival at Castle Tullamore.
Lord Griffin’s Prize
Katalina Leon
Chapter one
Maeve placed a gloved hand on the golden door handle
of the Tullamore Castle Hotel and pushed. The glass door resisted against the
vacuum of a blustery gust. The short but stormy walk from the cab to the curb
had left rain sheeting from her umbrella and tall black boots.
She bore down, gave the door a firm shove and watched
in awe as it swung open onto a timeless realm entrenched in equal parts modern
luxury and dour medieval grit. Above the entrance a time-ravaged, iron-studded
medieval shield bearing the image of a griffin held a place of honor between
two Victorian-era crystal sconces, punctuating the contrast of a far-reaching
past.
Maeve was too tired to care that she was tracking
water across the patterned carpet as she ambled into the elegant front lobby
dragging a lopsided piece of rolling luggage. For the past twenty-four hours
she’d roamed airports, engaged in endless desperate bargaining with airline
personnel to exchange tickets, hunted down cabs and texted anyone she could
reach to tell them that her international flights and all her arrangements on
the ground had been disrupted by turbulent weather.
The challenging journey from the US to Ireland had
left her weary to the bone. Everything that could go wrong had. As she
approached the front desk there was little wonder in her mind why the word
“travel” had its roots in the original travail, which literally meant
torture.
An attentive middle-aged woman, with red hair swept
away from her stark face, stepped from behind the carved baroque counter to
greet her. “You must be Maeve Clark. We received your message. I’m so sorry
you’ve had such a difficult time getting here.” The woman reached for Maeve’s
luggage. “Let’s get you signed in so you can rest.”
The woman glanced out the front entrance as the cab
that had brought Maeve turned and drove away in the pouring rain. “I don’t see
anyone else out there. Is Mr. Clark with you?”
“What time is it?” Maeve fought the impulse to rub her
eyes with the heels of her hands and grind what little mascara still clung to
her lashes onto her cheeks.
The woman smoothed the lapels of her prim navy suit.
“It’s 1:11 a.m.”
“Oh god. I’m so disoriented I thought it was earlier.
By the way, I’m no longer Maeve Clark. I made the reservations last year before
I divorced. Didn’t I update you on the name change?”
The woman’s gaze lingered on the prominent wedding
ring on Maeve’s left hand. “No name change was mentioned, but we have a
beautiful room waiting and we’re pleased to have you visit with us, Miss...?”
“Maeve dé Burgo.”
The woman looked elated. “You’re a dé Burgo? Of
course, now it all makes sense! Oh this is wonderful, and so appropriate. I’m
certain you are aware that the ancestral founder of Tullamore Castle was Lord
dé Burgo?” The woman clasped Maeve’s hand. “My name is Áine Byrne. I’m the
current owner of Tullamore Castle and if I’m not mistaken, you and I are
distant relations.”
“You’re the castle owner? I’m so happy to meet you,
Miss Byrne.”
“Call me Áine. I’m simply thrilled to have a dé Burgo
under our eaves again!”
Maeve was dumbfounded by the woman’s intense
enthusiasm for her maiden name. “I’m surprised to see you working the front
desk at this hour.”
“I’m a hands-on owner and a notorious insomniac. Night
is when interesting things happen at Tullamore. I like seeing everything and
everyone who comes through the front entrance. Hospitality is my business and I
enjoy being hospitable.”
“Thank you, Áine.” Maeve was barely able to manage a
smile in her exhausted state. “From the outside, the castle is so dramatic,
very picturesque. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing my room.”
“Of course you are.” Áine took Maeve’s hint and
hurried behind the counter to retrieve a massive leather-bound ledger with
vellum pages. “Because you are a dé Burgo would you please sign the historic
guest ledger?” She handed Maeve an old- fashioned feather quill and a bottle of
ink.
Maeve sighed as she accepted the quill and ink.
Despite her interest in all things historical, she had no experience writing
with a quill and hoped she wouldn’t make a mess of Áine’s lovely old ledger
with an inevitable clumsy ink splosh on the creamy page.
Áine seemed to read Maeve’s mind. “It’s not difficult.
Simply dip, swipe the quill on the rim of the bottle and write far more slowly
than you think you should.”
Maeve dipped the quill and sketched her name across
the velum with shaky, scratchy strokes that required several dunks into the
ink.
“Lovely.” Áine gazed at Maeve’s signature and set the
ledger aside to dry. “By the way, the room you requested is not available. We
had a slight accident with some workmen the other day and the room you reserved
will require refurbishment.”
Maeve groaned in disappointment. “The cheerful little
yellow room overlooking the rose garden isn’t available?”
“No.” Áine glanced at Maeve sideways. “We’re putting
you in the O’Griofa suite tonight. It’s our finest room.”
Maeve gasped. She’d visited Castle Tullamore’s website
many times and knew the O’Griofa suite was a sprawling set of adjoining rooms
stuffed with priceless antiques and no doubt far beyond her budget.
“It’s all right.” Áine raised a preemptive palm into
the air. “You will not be charged suite rates. The mistake was on our side and
you shall be the one to benefit.”
Maeve exhaled. “Thank you.” A nearly forgotten thought
surfaced. “Some months ago I contacted a Professor Burke to meet me here at the
castle and help me to gather information about my family’s genealogy. I forgot
to email him and tell him my flight was delayed. Has the professor contacted
you?”
“Yes, I spoke with Professor Burke at some length and
now that I know you’re a dé Burgo your research project makes perfect sense.
The dé Burgos have shared a stunning history with Castle Tullamore. Your family
has been here since the beginning.”
“I’ve been told I was named for a great ancestor of
mine, Lady Maeve dé Burgo. I’m looking forward to learning more about her.”
Áine did not appear to be the least bit surprised by
this bit of information. “There’s been a mild setback. I am sorry to say
Professor Burke isn’t coming. He called yesterday to cancel your appointment.
He must attend to emergency business in France and will not return for a
fortnight. He apologized profusely for the sudden change of plans.”
“The professor’s not coming?” The energy drained from
her. “I’m so disappointed. That was the core purpose of my trip to Tullamore.”
“Don’t despair.” Áine lifted her chin. “Another
professor has volunteered to take his place.”
“Who?”
“Ironically it’s a Professor O’Griofa. He too claims a
strong ancestral connection to Tullamore and has enjoyed a long association
with the castle. Isn’t that an interesting coincidence?” Áine’s gaze sharpened.
“Professor O’Griofa is considered the premier expert on Castle Tullamore, so it
goes to show that tiny setbacks and substitutions can often be wonderful boons.
I’m sure the change was for the best. Tullamore’s just that kind of place. One
must expect the unexpected.” She reached for a brass skeleton key dangling from
a hook. “We use an old-fashioned key for the O’Griofa suite. Come with me and
I’ll show you to your room.”
Maeve followed Áine down a long corridor lined with
gilt-framed oil portraits of the castle’s many occupants. They passed a
staircase and approached an antiquated- looking iron-cage elevator.
“We’re going to take the lift.” Áine took hold of the
iron filigree door and struggled to wrench it open. “This door can be so
stubborn.” She gave the base of the door a brisk kick with the heel of her shoe
until it opened. “Ah, there we go. You’re not claustrophobic or easily startled
by screeching metallic sounds, are you?”
“No.” Maeve gazed longingly toward the
staircase.
“Don’t worry, the lift is in excellent working condition. It’s just
odd.”
Maeve lingered at the threshold. “How is it
odd?”
“It’s haunted and there are a few other peculiarities.” “Like what? I
would think haunted is peculiar enough.”
“Oh there’s much more.” Áine stepped into the lift,
pulling the rolling luggage with her, and motioned for Maeve to follow. “Get in
and I’ll tell you about its many eccentricities.”
Maeve felt her face blanch as she stepped inside the
unsound-looking lift.
Áine slid the rattling door shut and pressed a button.
The lift lurched with a grating noise and rose to the thumping whir of unseen gears
and pulleys.
Maeve gulped a nervous breath. “I’ve never been in a
lift like this.”
“You certainly haven’t!” Áine grinned with pride.
“It’s one of a kind. I’ve had guests swear the lift delivered them into another
time and place. Can you imagine that? A few bold souls have even claimed to
encounter entities haunting the lift that encouraged them to engage in...” She
hesitated. “How should I say this? Amorous behavior. Their actions were quite
spontaneous and uninhibited, but I strongly suspect they didn’t do anything
they didn’t already want to do.”
“Oh my.” Maeve laughed. “And they blamed the lift?”
The lift screeched to a jolting halt. Áine drew the
door open. “We’re here.” She motioned for Maeve to exit. “The O’Griofa suite is
at the end of the corridor.”
(Just wait until Maeve sees the handsome portrait of Lord
O’Griofa. She’s in for trouble…)
Lord Griffin’s Prize is part of the Emerald Isle
Fantasies book series and is available now from Ellora’s Cave. Be sure to check
out the entire Emerald Isle Fantasies books series. It includes lots of
talented Ellora’s Cave authors and loads of steamy, Irish enchantment. You
can’t go wrong!
Jennifer LaRose “Phantom Mischief”
Rebecca Royce “Crimson Lust”
Dena Garson “Ghostly Persuasion”
And much more to come…
Ellora’s Cave:
http://www.ellorascave.com/series/emerald-isle-fantasies.html
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