Princess and the Wolf
Clan of the Wolf Book 1
Karen Kay
Historical Romance
HEARTS BETRAYED
to believe the rumors that the European prince she was forced to
marry had died in a far-off land, the princess, Sierra, sets sail to
America, bent on revenge and determined to learn the truth. Because
she will require a scout to guide her through the wilderness, she
calls in a favor from the man who had betrayed her long ago, the man
she had once loved deeply and had hoped to wed, the noble Cheyennescout, High Wolf.
years before, a European prince had invited High Wolf to travel an
ocean and as a brother, to live as a member of the royal family.
There High Wolf had fallen in love with the princess, Sierra. But
instead of an engagement and the planned wedding, the princess had
treacherously married his friend, the prince. Betrayed and
broken-hearted, High Wolf sailed back to America, determined to
forget the princess. But a promise given to her years earlier brings
her back into his life, igniting a desire he must resist, for to
surrender to her again is unthinkable.
into one another’s company, with the threat of life or death around
every corner, overcoming their prejudice might be their only means of
survival. But can either of them trust in a love, once betrayed? Or
will their past force them apart again, this time forever?…
book has been previously published.
A sensuous romance that might fan the flames of desire. Be warned.
You might fall in love all over again.
Wolf and the Lady
Clan of the Wolf Book 2
saved her life, then stole her heart….
escape an arranged marriage, Mia Carlson, daughter of a U.S. senator,
instead elopes with the man she loves. As they are escaping from her
Virginia home, heading west, their wagon train is brutally attacked,
leaving Mia alone and in grave danger. Rescue comes from a most
unlikely source, a passing Lakota scouting party, led by the darkly
handsome Indian, Brave Wolf.
Brave Wolf has consented to guide Mia to the nearest trading post, he
holds himself apart from her, for his commitments lie elsewhere. But
long days on the trail lead to a deep connection with the red-haired
beauty. Yet, he can’t stop wondering why death and danger stalk
this beautiful woman, forcing him to rescue her time and again. Who
is doing this, and why?
thing is clear, however: Amid the flurry of dodging assassin bullets,
Brave Wolf and Mia come into possession of a powerful love. But is it
all for naught? Will Brave Wolf’s obligations and Mia’s secret
enemy from the past finally succeed in the sinister plot to destroy
their love forever?
under the pen names of Karen Kay and Gen Bailey, Karen is a
multi-published author of Native American historical romances. She
has been praised by reviewers and fans alike for bringing the
historic American Indian culture to life, and she has been nominated
for several different awards. Karen’s great-grandmother was Choctaw
Indian, and because of this, she is honored to be able to write
stories that depict the Native American point of view.
of her books concern the Native American culture, and says Karen,
“With the power and passion of romance, I hope to bring about an
awareness of the vital forces that helped shape the American Indian
culture. There are some things that should never be forgotten.”
Enjoy this excerpt from The Princess and the Wolf
“The housekeeper tells that ’ tis well known the prince would divorce her,
were he here,” said the kitchen maid.
“Aye, that he would,” replied the housemaid. “And good riddance, says I. It
was she that drove him away. That she did.”
Gossip between servants at
Prince Alathom’s Castle
“Do you wish anything else before we go ashore?”
“No, Maria,” answered Princess Sierra, watching from her perch high above
the dock, as Governor Clark stepped from the carriage, accompanied by an Indian
maiden. “I do not require anything else at the moment. You’ve done quite well, my
friend, despite the demanding conditions of this vessel.” She gave Maria a brief
smile. “Would you please find Mr. Dominic and inform him that I am ready to
leave this ship?”
“Yes, Your Highness. At once. Do we go to greet Governor Clark, then?”
“I believe so,” said the princess. “And for this task, I will have need of you
both to accompany me.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Maria said, curtsying before she turned to do as bid.
Sierra smoothed a white-gloved hand over the blue and white muslin of her
very full skirt, pulling the lace that bordered her walking dress into place.
Straightening her shoulders, she settled her blue and white-lace mantle over the
double bouffant of her sleeves, buttoning the mantle’s closure at the neck. Briefly,
she touched her wide belt, which was made of the same light blue color as her
dress, pulling it a little more tightly around her waist so as to accentuate its most
tiny aspect. A white straw bonnet, adorned with ribbons of blue and tied at the
neck, completed the image of the fashionable royal that she was.
Opening her blue and white parasol, Sierra narrowed her eyes, placing a hand
gently over her forehead as though it were an extra shield from the sun. She
frowned.
From her view of it, there seemed to be no sign of the man she had instructed
Governor Clark to hire. Had she needlessly tortured herself over this first meeting
with High Wolf?
Perhaps he hadn’t yet arrived.
Or maybe, she thought on a grimmer note, he wasn’t coming. Had he mayhap
learned that it was she behind the request?
For a moment, she worried over the possibility. As absurd as it might appear,
such a thing was possible: He might know of her coming. He’d always seemed to
have ways of gleaning information about things—ways that she had never
understood. Perhaps he had discovered her scheme well ahead of the fact.
At that thought, Sierra tried to swallow her disappointment.
It wasn’t that she was looking forward to seeing him again. No. It was only
that he, and he alone, could lead her to Prince Alathom, and it was Prince Alathom
she needed to find and challenge, Prince Alathom whom she would repay in
kind…if need be…
Squaring her shoulders and setting her features into as delightful a smile as
she could, Princess Sierra pulled unconsciously at her mantle, noticing as she did
so that her fingers shook with the effort.
It was then that she caught sight of something in her peripheral
vision…something familiar. She turned her head carefully to the left, her eyes
colliding with and staring hard at a pair of dark eyes looking directly back at her.
Her stomach flipped over twice before it at last performed a dive toward her
toes. She inhaled swiftly to try to quell the reaction.
It was he, High Wolf. He had come, after all.
As impossible as it might seem, she stared back at a face that she had once
thought never to see again. Yet, there he was; there, across a very short distance.
And unable to curtail it, she was suddenly awash in nearly palpable relief.
Relief? Nonsense. It was probably more to the point to say that she was glad
that her scheme now contained the element of possibility, the possibility of
success.
But if he were to be caught looking up at her, she would be staring back down
at him as well, almost as though she were hungry for the sight of him…although
she corrected herself, this last thought was ridiculous.
Again, she reminded herself that he, as well as the prince, had betrayed her. In
different ways, perhaps. But betrayal was certain treachery after all, regardless of
the circumstances. And faith, once lost, could never be restored.
Still, despite the intervening years, an all too familiar pain shot through her,
and without her conscious will, she found herself scrutinizing the man she had
once thought herself to be in love with…a man who had left her for no more than
three hundred gold dukaten.
He looked much the same as he had ten years ago, yet different. Whereas
High Wolf had been little more than a boy then, he was now very much a man, and
he looked bigger somehow, though he was still extraordinarily slim. Perhaps it was
because his chest was wider, larger…or perhaps he was more muscular.
He looked…better, more handsome, more virile.
Sierra grimaced at her thoughts and decided to scrutinize something else less
potent…his manner of dress, for instance…
Gone were the fashionable trousers and high leather boots that she
remembered him wearing in the past; in their place were buckskin leggings,
breechcloth and moccasins. Gone also were the carefully stitched linen shirt and
cravat so precisely tied, supplanted now with a long buckskin shirt, fringed, with
the bottom of it hanging down almost past his breechcloth. An ornament of what
looked to be a concatenation of beads and bone, in the shape of a breastplate, hung
down over his chest. It was a sight she had never beheld until this moment.
Instead of a hat, however, he now wore feathers on his head—or at least there
was one feather sticking straight up behind him. And his hair…
Relegated to the past was the fashionable haircut she recalled so well,
displaced now by long, black hair that hung well past his shoulders.
He looked…Indian, alien from all she had ever known and loved. Yet his
countenance was, contrarily, as familiar to her as a well-rehearsed play.
And she wondered: Despite their past, would he help her?
Not if he knew her purpose.
Only too well, she recalled that High Wolf considered the prince to be more
than a friend. To him, and perhaps rightly so, Prince Alathom was a brother, a
brother in fact as well as in deed. Besides, High Wolf would hardly condone her
murderous plan…a scheme she fully intended to execute if the prince refused to
return to the Continent, whereupon he would take up his responsibilities.
Indeed, she would be satisfied.
Those at home thought she knew nothing of their wagging tongues; they
believed their whispered insults were discreet. But Sierra did know. She did care.
And he would pay.
Oh, yes, he would pay.
Which meant, she realized, that the real reason for her journey must remain a
well-guarded secret; from Governor Clark, from her guides and especially from
High Wolf.
She only wondered if she could successfully hide her motives from High
Wolf. After all, as she had already surmised, High Wolf was an extremely
perceptive man. Might he guess?
Well, it was up to her to keep her secret well hidden. She only hoped she was
up to the task.
***
He stared at her as though he had come face-to-face with his worst
nightmare—or maybe his best fantasy. Princess Sierra? Here? Now?
His heart skipped a beat, then picked up its pace, pounding onward in triple
speed. High Wolf caught his breath before forcing himself to breathe in and out. In
a daze, he stared up at her, feeling as though he were caught in an illusion.
Had she come for him? Had she traveled all this distance to reach out to him,
realizing after all this time that she could not live without him, as she had once
proclaimed?
Or was she a mere mirage, the same sort of image that haunted his dreams?
Without warning, the desire to run to her, to take her in his arms and embrace
her, was almost more real than the solidness of the ground beneath him. Of its own
will, the memory of the taste of her, the scent of her, the sweetness of her embrace,
overwhelmed him.
And he knew he needed, he wanted to kiss her. Now. In truth, so strong was
the desire, he had taken a few steps toward her before he became once more fully
aware of himself, and stopped.
The prince. How could he have forgotten the prince—as well as her
duplicity—so easily? Where was the prince?
Odd, he thought, how the mind could forget the pain, the anguish, the loss.
For a moment, all had been gone, replaced by the simple joy of seeing her again.
Odd, too, how his body was even now reacting, that most manly part of him
pulsing with every pounding of his heart, remembering, anticipating…what could
never be.
He groaned. He had to bring himself, his thoughts, his body under control,
quickly.
Concentrate on her faithlessness, he cautioned himself. Hers and Prince
Alathom’s.
He glanced to the side of her and all around her. Where was the prince?
And then, as though it came through the fog cluttering his mind, a thought
came to him. Governor Clark had hired him, had told High Wolf that he was to
escort and protect a royal party, one that was coming to the Americas for a wild-
game hunt.
It was the prince and princess . It had to be.
Had the two of them asked for him, personally? For old time’s sake? Was that
why Clark had sent for him?
Or was this mere coincidence?
Coincidence? He sneered. High Wolf knew there was no such thing.
Had the two of them no compassion? No pity?
Surely they were aware of what the mere act of seeing them
again—together—would do to him.
Or did they think that they could renew friendship? That he would have
forgotten?
Well, he had not forgotten; he could not.
Breathing in deeply, High Wolf calmed himself. He was letting his emotions
take control of his mind, even of his body. It was possible, he conceded, that he
was not thinking clearly, putting elements together that did not necessarily go
together.
Besides, he didn’t have to take the job at hand. He had not pledged his word.
And it wouldn’t be as if he were deserting the prince and princess, either.
After all, there were these two disreputable trappers that Clark had hired as well.
Wearily, High Wolf glanced at the two shabbily dressed men. Yes, let them
have the assignment…while he, High Wolf, quietly disappeared…
Surely, that would be best. For indeed, if this were his initial reaction to the
princess—and at this great a distance from her—what would be his fate if he were
to witness her beauty closer to hand?
At that thought, a rush of desire swept through him that was as uncontrollable
as it was unwelcome. In truth, so swift was his reaction, he rocked back on his feet.
The response shocked him as much as it excited him. And High Wolf knew he
had best renew his intention to leave—quickly…
Yet he didn’t budge so much as an inch. In faith, he could not have turned
away from her now had he been a saint. Not yet.
Contrarily, another part of him reasoned that little harm could come from
feasting his sights upon her for a while longer. Perhaps the image gained could
serve to fuel the fiber of his imagination in the lonely nights ahead of him.
Make no mistake, Princess Sierra had always been the most beautiful creature
he had ever seen, and it appeared she had changed little, except to have blossomed.
More curves, more womanly features.
As he stared, his heart warmed to his subject. Dark curls bounced around her
face while her bonnet hid the rest of her coiffure. Oval face, high cheekbones, eyes
that he knew were as green as a prairie in spring. Even from this distance, he could
attest that her skin still glowed with health and vitality. It was one of the features
he remembered most about her. Her skin had been luminous, clear; had shone with
a radiance even under cover of darkness, as though she might be lit by a fire
within.
How he had loved to run his hands over her face, her neck, those curves…
Cease this, he cautioned himself, letting out his breath.
Yet the mind was often a mysterious thing, and despite himself, his thoughts
rambled on. At five foot four, she had always been a slender little thing. He
recalled that he had once spanned her waist within the outstretched grip of both his
hands. They had laughed about it. All three of them. Himself, Prince Alathom and
the princess.
Odd, how close the three of them had once been, so close they had shared
most everything.
High Wolf sighed.
Perhaps it was the way of the world that some things—even good
things—were destined to end. Maybe that was why one should reach out for all the
happiness he could have, while it still lay within his grasp.
Taking a few steps away, High Wolf at last turned his back on the sight of
her. Best to disappear now, as quickly as possible. For of one matter he was
entirely certain: He would not escort the princess and the prince. Not now. Not
ever.
He took a few steps away.
“High Wolf!”
His insides plummeted at the sound of her voice. Yet he remained steadfast in
his decision and kept walking, ignoring the call.
“High Wolf, don’t go!”
Don’t listen to her, he counseled himself. Go now, before she has a chance to
weave her spell around you. Go at once .
But even as he thought it, an odd music, a rhythm perchance, began to pound
through his mind, reminding him of other places, other times…
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