Song Of The Mountains
by Anne Ireland
http://www.eternalpress.ca/songofthemountains.html
Historical Saga/Romance, 113,900 words
cover art by Shirley Burnett
edited by Pam Slade
ISBN:978-1-897559-70-3
$6.95
heat rating: 2 flames

Summary:

Song of the Mountains is a passion infused and turbulent story of a man’s battle against the odds. It is Morgan’s duty to help the Prince of Wales in his fight against oppressive England. But when Morgan is tricked into a marriage he cannot honour, he finds himself desperately in love with the wife of another man. Now as loyalty to his leader and the conflicts in his heart collide, can anything save Morgan and the nation he loves beyond his life?

Excerpt:

Seeking out the source of the noise, which seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness of her idyll, she saw that two young men had dived into the river from the opposite bank. A third man stood on the bank waiting for them, keeping watching over their horses. She thought from his dress he was a servant, but could not tell his identity or of the men in the water.

They were swimming towards her, racing each other and calling out excitedly in the way young men will, reminding Morwenna of her young brothers who sometimes swam in the lake near her home at Bala. As they came nearer, she saw their shoulders were naked and realised they must have removed much of their clothing before plunging into the water. One of them had reached the bank a short distance from where she was sitting. He had not seen her because of the reed bed that partially obscured her and them.

She had a clear view of the man, who hauled himself from the river and stood shaking his long hair like a hound, the droplets sparkling in the sunshine as they flew around him. He was completely naked; his strong, muscled body open to her curious gaze as he stood laughing at his friend, clearly unashamed of his unclothed state and pleased to have won his race. He was beautiful! Morwenna drank in the sight of his power and grace. The colour of his skin seeming to indicate this was not the first time it had been exposed to the elements, gleaming wetly like pale copper in the sun’s rays. She could not draw her eyes away for she had never seen a man thus, nor such a well formed man at any time. And then his friend shouted a warning, pointing in her direction from where he trod water in mid river, and the young god on the bank turned his head to look at her. ( )