By Amy Corwin
"A tragic case of arson sends Sarah into hiding to flee the bad destiny of her kinfolk. She works as a standard laborer, and is secure for 13 years, until eventually she gets an ominous word. regardless of her cover, the killer has stuck up along with her, and she or he is once more at risk from a guy decided to silence all echoes from the earlier.
William, an inquiry agent, is ate up with interest while he meets Sarah and hears approximately her case. And one inspect her grey eyes has him hooked. even if the facts is scanty after such a lot of years, he vows to help her, unaware how occasions will problem him either as a guy of honor and as an investigator.
When a moment try is made on Sarah's lifestyles, William is pressured to persist with a treacherous course in the course of the twisted, darkish earlier. And his becoming allure to the self sustaining girl proves simply as harmful. He wishes a transparent head to sift in the course of the ashes of the previous tragedy, with its tricks of corruption achieving into the top degrees of Society. specifically, he needs to guard Sarah, despite own expense.
Love needs to give you the chance to deliver the 2 jointly and thwart a determined arsonist, or the final survivor of the long-ago hearth will die.
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Additional info for A Lady in Hiding (The Archer Family, Book 2)
It made sense in military terms, but Wulf did not think that Guthlac had the first intention of forging an alliance with Erica of Whitecliffe. Guthlac's eyes glittered with loathing; they were hard as glass in the flare of the torches. He was toying with her and she knew it. The fish was settling uncomfortably in Wulf's stomach. Guthlac's eyes were warning him that the feud between his housecarls and Lady Erica's was far from dead; the man was biding his time. And Hrothgar? Eyeing the lady's bosom.
Wulf could hear nothing of note over the clatter of knives and the guffaws and the general babble of conversation. He had to get closer... Meals in this fenland castle were taken very differently to meals in King William's barrack-hall at Westminster. Here, no weapon stacks bristled with arms by the walls; instead, men wore their arms to table. They sat with their swords jutting out behind them, an ever-present hazard for servers approaching the benches with dishes and ale jugs. The continual bearing of arms by every able-bodied man in the camp reminded Wulf, if reminder were needed, that he was breaking bread with outlaws.
So it was with those lower in the ranks, he thought, lifting his gaze once again to the noblemen and commanders clustered around the board; that is what we are reduced to, fighting over scraps dropped by those above. Parchments were scattered across the tabletop--maps, most likely. Wulf knew what the lords were about: they were busy slicing up lands won in the recent conflict. Estates that had once belonged to Saxon noblemen were being parcelled out among King William's most loyal supporters. Campaigns for suppressing rebellion were being planned; offers were being made for the most wealthy of the Saxon widows and heiresses.