eBook Details

Devil of Nettlewood

By: Louisa Trent | Other books by Louisa Trent
Published By: Trent Publishing
Published: Jan 15, 2013
ISBN # TRNTPB0000021
Word Count: 61,000
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Available in: Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi), Palm DOC/iSolo, Adobe Acrobat

Categories: Romance>BDSM Romance>Historical Medieval Romance>Erotic Romance

Description
PREVIOUSLY RELEASED and NEWLY REVISED

Anarchy Tales: Book One

Though tales of Lord Spur's cruelty are legendary and his discipline of her is oft-times harsh, peasant Mitri chooses carnal servitude in the nobleman's solar over rotting in a dungeon as his prisoner. But Lord Spur is as thorny as the vines surrounding his embattled keep. His prick stings her so. He toys with her mercilessly, all hours of the day and night, and not only in his bedchamber.

Subjected to all manner of forbidden acts, her pleasured flesh rubbed raw from leather restraints, her throat screamed hoarse from the pained releases forced upon her, Mitri accepts the bounty of her Master's rough passion.

And then, Lord Spur brings in his squire, Nym. Not to mention his brother, Lord Talon. The overlord presents her to each as if she were a lamb at market. Whatever is she to do?

There is naught to do -- save trust beyond question, save trust beyond doubt, that she has found her one true love in the dominant overlord.

But -- has she? Has she found her one true love? Or has she only succumbed to the dark seduction of the Devil of Nettlewood?
 
Reader Rating:  starstarstar (1 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating:   liplipliplip
Excerpt:
Chapter One

The year 1138. England, during the tumultuous reign of King Stephen.

Lord Spur reined in his galloping steed, raised the oliphant horn to his lips, and blew three short blasts. The thrice trumpeting would advise his hunting party to make haste lest the wild boar they tracked escape further into the reserve, an altogether forbidding place of gnarled oak and thorny briars, a cold and unwelcoming region that by all reckonings resembled its cruel overlord.

Spur smiled tightly. Cruel overlord…that would be him.

When behind his broad back, his populace said the uncivilized territory bore a striking similarity to their callous liege, how he equaled if not surpassed the land’s harsh and uncompromising nature, and so on and so forth, Spur could only nod his head in enthusiastic approval. The day he overheard himself referred to as the Devil of Nettlewood -- the calumny committed behind a raised hand, naturally -- he actually applauded the gossip’s astuteness.

He was not above such flattery, especially as this particular endearment had rather a nice sting to it. And a good thing he thought so too for the pet name had stuck. Now he fostered the innuendos, the insinuations…the outright lies…that circulated about him. Verily, he courted the falsehoods as he would a strumpet, his aim to pry her thighs apart until the rosebud showed.

He did so delight in rosebuds.

If tales of his kicking sweet puppy dogs and gobbling up cooing newborns and raping pious novices as they prayed in their cloistered nunneries saved his arse and the collective posteriors of the people he served, who was he to disagree? So what if he were not nearly as diabolical as he would have others believe. The truth was, no saint in the making was he, no wayward angel looking to find a way back to heaven, no penitent sinner seeking forgiveness on his knees. Any kneeing to be done in his realm fell to his toadies.

And to women, naturally. He had never been one to look a carnal overture in the mouth and refuse it. Christ’s prick, but he did have his manly urges. Dark urges no paramour had ever fully appeased.
Rather than try to change his debauched ways, he wallowed in his excesses. Celebrated his wickedness. Encouraged his people to think the worst of him…

Oh, how he suffered their derision. Maintaining his serfdom’s lowly estimation of him was damnably hard work.

Ah, well. Every man had his cross to bear. His was living down to his lowly reputation, one pair of teats at a time.

Hopefully more. He was not opposed to losing himself in a crowd.
Spur resettled himself on the saddle. Let those vassals who owed him their allegiance call him unyielding. Let those subjects he governed name him as inhospitable as the holdings he oversaw. Let those lovers he had once fucked, then scorned, vilify him. So long as, pray God, the tittle-tattle kept enemies away from his fortress gates, he would continue to substantiate the vilest of rumors about himself with suitable misbehavior.

Why would he not?

In the heat of battle, only a witless fool tampered with a winning military strategy.

And this was no ordinary skirmish. Keeping himself and his people alive under the reign of King Stephen amounted to outright war.

Reader Reviews (1)
Submitted By: denise_b on Jan 4, 2014
If you remember romances published in the 1970s and early 1980s, you might find the style familiar. Set in England in the first half of the 1100s, the life of Mitri is pretty brutal both before and after she becomes the prisoner of Lord Spur. In spite of being a bit extreme, the book did have an HEA, at least as much as a book set at the beginning of a civil war can have. I only gave it three stars because I didn't really enjoy the writing style and found it difficult to feel for the characters.
 

Devil of Nettlewood

By: Louisa Trent
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