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Riona (The Fires of Gleannmara Series #2)
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About Riona
Amazon.com Review Romance and suspense share the spotlight as award-winning author Linda Windsor continues her satisfying saga of the Christian Celts in Riona. Riona plans to make a life for herself in the church, but finds her dream shattered when she saves three orphans from slavery. To adopt the children and offer them a legitimate family, Riona must marry the handsome warrior Kieran, who is unjustly accused of murder. Although Riona is the sequel to Maire, it can be easily read as a standalone title. The glossary of Celtic terminology provides a helpful reference, as Windsor peppers her writing with unusual terms such as brat (outer cloak or wrap), porringer (a low bowl), and slige (a main road). Historical aficionados who like a spiritual bent to their stories and readers with a penchant for a good romantic yarn will enjoy this tale of primitive Ireland. --Cindy Crosby Product Description Riona, a gentlewoman of faith, discovers that her plan to help the disadvantaged includes not only the plague orphans in her charge, but the arrogant, handsome adventurer who feels honor-bound to save her and her lands by marrying her -- with or without her consent. Lord Kieran of Gleannmara depends on nothing and no one save his wit and skill with steel, but soon a deadly twist of fate forces him to acknowledge his need not only for the lady Riona and her worrisome entourage, but for her Lord as well. About the Author Linda Windsor is an award-winning author of nineteen historical and five contemporary novels who lives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. A former professional singer, musician, and ABA writer, Linda gave her music and writing over to God with initial protest but without regret. She believes laughter is God's prescription for the tears of life, and the icing on the cake of faith. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One 570s Dalraidi Scotia Minor frontier, early spring… The mist over the loch was so thick a body could walk on it. It permeated the tunics and cloaks of the warriors on the bloodied banks at the lake’s edge. Kieran of Gleannmara walked among the wounded and slain, his lean, muscled legs as heavy as those of the dead. It was wrong, all wrong, he thought, turning over this body and that, numbly searching their features, now waxed in the horror of their demise. What the devil had happened? Their early morning raid took the enemy by surprise and routed the marauding pirates from their stronghold on the bank. Bold when striking a helpless trading vessel, the cowardly brigands had scattered like smoke in the wind in the face of Kieran’s forces. They’d either taken to the water in whatever would float or disappeared into the thick air at the Dalraidi’s charge. At least that’s what was thought. The main of the Dalraidi forces, among them Kieran’s mercenary warriors from Gleannmara, had turned to looting. The more for King Aidan, the more for them. It wasn’t the loot that attracted Kieran, a young lord from Erin’s tuath by the Wicklows. It was the adventure, the prospect of putting the long years of training in warfare to use. For all the heath fruit of Brigh Leithe could not make enough beer to induce the euphoria of plunging into combat, weapon to shield, blade to flesh, and—if need be—brutish hand to brutish hand. The greatest challenge at home was an occasional cattle raid or petty clan squabble and scholastic pursuit. Aye, it was good exercise for the mind, and Kieran of Gleannmara’s fine, muscled body and keen battle senses demanded testing. Young, hot-blooded, and eager to put their training to practice, Kieran and his chiefs had left with the high king’s blessing to join King Aidan of the Dalraidi Scots on his campaigns against pirates who had been harassing his fleet and the trade routes along the coastal waters. The restless young warriors from the various clan lands of Gleannmara had rallied enthusiastically to Kieran’s call for volunteers to help their Scottish cousins
