Today, we have Silver James, who is a life saver and otherwise lovely person as well! She’s super sweet (I got to meet her a few weeks ago), and she even let me attend a champagne breakfast! (I made myself a mimosa. Yum!) Anyway, she’s also an author, and we’ve got an exclusive excerpt from one of her stories today. Silver is so awesome, in fact, that she’s also doing a giveaway!
Without further ado… the excerpt! (Of course with book blurb first. The formatting isn’t playing nice, but I figure that’s not the most important aspect.)
If you could go back, do it over again, would you take a chance to find true love? What if you had no choice?
On her fiftieth birthday, the faerie catapult Rebecca Miller a thousand years into the past to find her happily ever after with Ciaran MacDermot, Chief of Clann MacDermot, the last Fenian warrior in his line. In the twenty-first century, Becca is old enough to be Ciaran’s mother. In the tenth, she’s young enough to be his bride.
The fae forgot to mention one slight stipulation. The lovers must be bound before the Festival of Light, or Becca will forever disappear into Tir Nan Óg, the faerie Land of the Ever Young. Will they discover the binding words before time runs out and they’re torn apart forever? Or will their eternal love defeat their Faerie Fate?
Without the words, history is doomed to repeat itself.
Becca didn’t want to open her eyes even though the camp stirred outside the tent. Men and horses snorted and stamped. Ciaran had wrapped his arms around her at some point, and all three wolfhounds, Bhruic, Winken, and Blinken, were curled up at her back. She was still so tired she could barely move and guessed she’d only slept two hours or less. At least, Ciaran’s fever had broken, and he was sleeping easier.
She moved and Ciaran’s arms tightened around her. He growled softly in his sleep. “You’re as bad as the dogs,” she complained. “I’m just checking the bandage.” She fought loose from his embrace and sat up. She pulled away the covers and wasn’t surprised to find Ciaran aroused. “I swear,” she swore under her breath, “all he thinks about is tupping.” The bandage was soaked through with nasty yellow pus, and she yanked it away. The wound looked less angry now though it still drained. She replaced the herb poultice and bandage with fresh and was just about to lay back down when all three dogs snapped to ferocious attention. Panicked cries echoed from the outlying sentries, and suddenly the area around the tent erupted with violent activity. Men ran this way and that, drawing swords and looking for the enemy.
Alarmed, Becca found her sword belt and cinched it around her waist. The dirk she’d used on Ciaran’s wound was back in its scabbard and hiding beneath the blanket she’d wadded up to use as a pillow. She snagged it, jammed it through her belt, and then reached for her boots. Ciaran stirred, his hand reaching for his sword.
“No,” Becca told him firmly. “You’re in no shape to fight.”
“I can’t just lie here, cailín,” he growled weakly.
“Not only can you, but you will,” she growled back. She did move his scabbard closer so his big fist could close around the hilt. “As a last resort,” she cautioned, turning to leave.
His hand snagged her ankle. “Where are you going?” Groaning, he pushed up on an elbow. “You have to stay here where I can protect you.”
Becca shook her foot loose and danced out of his reach. “You’ll be lucky to protect yourself.” She smiled to take the sting from her words, knowing it was vitally important to him and his honor that he keep her safe. “I am not without ability with a sword, Ciaran. I will protect myself. Stay with him,” she ordered the hounds as she slipped through the tent flap.
“Nay, with her,” Ciaran told the dogs. The three dogs obediently followed her out into the melee.
Becca found Riordan and Taidhg standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the tent, their swords drawn. Eddies of men clashed all around the campsite. The hobelars were at a distinct disadvantage. They were bowman, used to being mounted and mobile. In the hand-to-hand fighting taking place, their bows were useless. The troop of horse carried both sword and lance and those soldiers were more adept at fighting on foot. As they watched the fight, Niall seemed to be everywhere. Suddenly, he was nowhere to be seen. The men exchanged worried looks. Becca turned to Riordan.
“Go,” she ordered. “Taidhg and I will guard him,” indicating the tent with her chin. She pulled her sword and brandished it in the air.
Riordan hesitated just a moment for he’d spotted Niall surrounded and about to be overcome. Then he was gone, diving into the fray.
Taidhg gave her an apprehensive look.
Becca smiled at him. “You have my back, Taidhg, as I have yours. Together we shall keep the MacDermot safe this day.”
Her voice was filled with such utter conviction Taidhg did not doubt her words. Before he could reply, two men were upon them.
The wolfhounds dashed everywhere, nipping and tearing where they could sink their teeth into flesh, but darting away too quickly to take a blow from the swords or dirks aimed their way. Becca and Taidhg fought shoulder to shoulder. Taidhg finished off his man and turned his sword on Becca’s. In short order, that man was dead, too. Slowly, the MacDermot troops got the upper hand. The pile of bodies in front of the tent continued to grow. Riordan and Niall split up, each working their way through their soldiers to rally them.
At one point, Niall turned to check on the tent. He groaned when he realized Becca and Taidhg were back-to-back fighting off four attackers. There were too many O’Brien fighters between them for him to get there in time. Then, as he watched, Becca slashed the throat of one and her sword continued in one smooth motion to block the thrust of the second. Her left hand followed the path of her right and she buried her dirk up to its hilt beneath the arm of the other attacker. Like a dancer, she whirled, freeing the dirk and spinning to take on the second man attacking Taidhg.
“Makes you want to weep for joy, doesn’t it?” Riordan laughed as he appeared at Niall’s shoulder. “What babies the two of them will make!” With that, the younger man was off seeking other prey.
“Aye and aye,” Niall agreed before turning to find his own quarry.
Bio: With a rampant imagination aided and abetted by a Muse who runs with scissors, Silver James loves to share the stories created in that vast comic void pretending to be her mind. Over the course of her lifetime, she’s been a military officer’s wife, mother, state appellate court marshal, airport rescue firefighter and forensic fire photographer, crime analyst, technical crime scene investigator, and writer. Retired from the “real world” now, she lives in Oklahoma and spends her days at the computer with her two Newfoundland dogs, the cat who rules them all, and myriad characters all clamoring for attention. To find out more about Silver, visit her at www.silverjames.com
So what’d you think? Got any questions for Silver? What about the premise, setting, or characters? It’s definitely not what you typically think of, yes? One lucky commenter will win his or her choice of a digital or print copy of Faerie Fate! Whee!
