DIANA BY THE MOON by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Jewels of Tomorrow Book 1.0
Ancient Historical Fantasy Romance Novel

More books by Tracy Cooper-Posey
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A heartwrenching story of love, loss and triumph.
Diana, an independent Roman woman in a time when women are mere property, is forced to provide food and shelter for an entire northern British estate. She trusts no one.
Alaric, fierce and proud Celtic warrior, and trusted lieutenant to the upstart British leader, Arthur, must have Dianaâs estate to complete his mission. Failure would doom all of Britain.
Alaric and Diana reluctantly cooperate to ensure survival, but famine, Saxon raids, a harsh winter and the conniving of mutual enemies test their resolve.
A story of sacrifice, courage, loyalty and ultimately, a love that erases the boundaries of culture and upbringing, providing hope for a better future for themselves and those who follow in their footsteps.
Get your copy of the novel that reviewers call âa work of written artâ and âone of the best historical romances I have read this year.â
This book is part of the Jewels of Tomorrow series.
Diana by the Moon
Heart of Vengeance
An Ancient Historical Romance Novel
{Also see: Romance, Historical Romance, Novels}
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I read Diana by the moon as a stand alone because, I admit, the tittle did something for me. Everything historical from this author is bound to be good, very well written and historically accurate. I confess I'm quite sensitive and I suffered throughout the story, what difficult time to be a woman, or to be alive really, but love conquers all, right? đ
This story was very good read, it got my interest, i had to finish the story, it is a must read,it is courageous self discovery all through out the story, it made you read to the end of story.
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Excerpt
EXCERPT FROM DIANA BY THE MOON
COPYRIGHT © TRACY COOPER-POSEY 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
âThere was definitely a child standing on the wall, sir.â
Alaric nodded. âYes.â
âAnd the fields have been tilled recently,â Griffin added.
âBadly,â added Rhys, ever the cynic. âLook at those rows! I could plow a straighter furrow blind drunk with a poxy bull in front of me.â
âYou know that from experience, of course.â Griffin grinned.
Rhys swiped at him with his fist but Griffin had already moved his horse out of the older manâs reach.
Alaric smiled at their banter, then turned his concentration upon the villa ahead and the hill behind. The peak was a rocky plateau thrusting out of the tree line. It was perfect for his needs.
He looked back at the villa. Heâd have to cajole the owner into cooperating.
Rhys pushed his horse level with Alaricâs and nodded toward the villa. âLooks Roman.â
âYes.â
âCourse, round these parts you couldnât throw a stone without hitting a Roman.â
âTrue.â
âYou want to explain to me what Arthur had in mind, sending you of all people in among the thickest congregation of Romans in Britain? Mithras!â
âArthur knows what heâs doing. He doesnât explain himself to me.â Alaric looked straight into Rhysâ eyes. âAnd thatâs the last time I allow you the freedom to question Arthurâs orders. Clear?â
Rhys looked away. After a moment he nodded his grizzled head. âClear,â he said roughly. âI apologize.â
Alaric clapped him on the back. âGood man.â
They reached the gateway. âThey arenât afraid of much. No gates!â Griffin commented.
âThey had gates all right,â Rhys said dryly, âand theyâve had their share of trouble too.â He spat on a pile of discarded timber and iron as they passed by. âThose gates were breached by a battering ram or Iâm the son of Lucifer.â
Their horsesâ hooves echoed flatly in the deserted yard. As the rest of the company filed in, Alaric looked around. The courtyard was about a hundred and fifty paces a side. An ancient gnarled oak skulked in the front corner. In summer it would spread welcome shade but now it hunched darkly against the iron-gray sky, dripping tears from an earlier shower.
âSir!â Griffin whispered, drawing Alaricâs attention. The boy nodded toward the house proper, lining half of the yard. Ten paces from the graceful columns bordering the tile verandah stood a young girl. Her huge eyes were wide with shock.
âShe looks ready to bolt at the slightest noise,â Rhys said quietly.
âWhere is everyone else?â Griffin asked, puzzled.
âScattered,â Alaric replied. âIf theyâve had trouble before, theyâll be wary about armed men approaching them.â He looked behind him. âStay here,â he told his men. âIf we panic her weâll never find the rest of the household. Griffin, Rhys, come with me.â
He slid down from his horse and threw the reins to one of the men. Griffin and Rhys followed him.
Alaric moved toward the girl. Closer, he saw that fear kept her pinned downâpure terror. There was no curiosity at all.
âWe mean you no harm,â he called out as he reached her. He lowered his voice. âWhere are your kin, child?â
She gave no answer. From between her legs urine trickled and puddled at her feet.
Rhys gave a snort of disgust. âFor Mithrasâ sake, weâre not going to eat you, girl!â
At the sound of Rhysâ gruff battle-roughened voice, the girlâs eyes rolled up and she fell to the ground in a tired, boneless heap.
âDear god!â Griffin whispered, horrified. âYouâve killed her!â
Rhys cleared his throat. âI did no such thing!â
âItâs all right. Sheâs simply fainted or some such thing.â Alaric pushed his sword aside and crouched down to check the girl was still breathing. In repose her face was irresistibly beautiful. Flawless, as only a childâs could be before life stamped its lines and markers. Before his reaching hand made contact there came a piercing, alarming cry from inside the house. It was a war cry.
Alaric leapt to his feet as Rhys and Griffin both drew their swords.
From the far corner of the verandah came a tiny man in trews and tunic, a knife in his upheld hand, his face contorted with rage. He raced along the verandah, leapt onto the dirt and ran toward them. Alaric knew he was protecting the childâhe thought they meant the girl harm.
He was almost upon them before Alaric thought to draw a weapon, so astonishing was the idea that this little person would attempt to attack fully armed soldiers.
Griffin and Rhys stepped in front of him. When the man leapt, Griffin, the taller, caught his knife hand and Rhys, the heavier, buried his elbow in the manâs stomach, snapping him over and pushing the wind from him.
And a long tightly bound skein of hair swung over and brushed the dirt.
âHellâs houndsâŠitâs a woman!â Rhys gaped at the woman hanging between Rhysâ and Griffinâs grip on her arms. She was trying to draw in air with temporarily stunned muscles, her head hanging down.
Rhys and Griffin looked accusingly at Alaric, their expressions both guilty and defiant at once. Alaric knew what they were thinking. How could you let us hurt a woman like this?
Alaric pondered on what to do. The woman had plainly meant him harm and she had been armed too. As he wavered, she breathed in noisy jerks and that decided him.
âRhys, sit her on the ground. Griffin, move the little one out of the damp air.â
Rhys lowered the woman until she was seated while Griffin picked up the unconscious child and took her under the verandah roof.
Alaric crouched in front of the woman. She leaned on one hand, holding the other to her chest. Prudently, he kept his hand on his knife hilt.
âDonât fight to breathe,â he told her. âRelax, and it will come. If you fight, it will take longer.â
She understood, for her shoulders lowered as she followed his instructions. Her breath immediately eased. It shallowed but drew easily.
âStay seated,â he advised her. âYouâll be dizzy for a moment or two.â
She nodded, keeping her head lowered.
âWeâre friend, not foeâŠyou understand?â
Again, the nod.
âWhere is everyone else?â
âHiding,â she said, her voice low.
âI need to speak to the head of the household. Who owns this estate? What is his name?â
âThe ownerâs name is Diana, daughter of the late Marcellus Aurelius.â She looked up then. She had eyes the same deep blue hue as the sky late in the evening, the blue rimmed with black. Eyes startling in their strange coloring. She looked straight into his. âYou speak to me.â