The Dark Lady

She should have grown up in a life of luxury and ease—instead, she was thrust into one of danger and deception...

Forced by her scheming mother to pretend that she was a boy, Vanessa Fordella becomes Van, the Dark Knight, in twelfth-century England. But when her now-dying mother demands that she leave behind her charade and marry, Van embarks on the most difficult journey of her life. And if her new husband ever finds out the truth...

After years of war, all he wants is peace and the simple life...

Peter Lawston, Lord Grayweist, hopes for a shy and controllable wife to run his castle and bear his children. What arrives, instead, is a hellcat, who doesn't know the first thing about being docile or obedient. There’s something familiar about his unconventional wife, but Peter can’t put his finger on it.

As Van struggles to let go of the knight she has been and become the wife she is expected to be, events unfold that threaten to destroy everything she holds dear, including her very life.

Kudos for
 
The Dark Lady

The Dark Lady by Dawn Chandler is a wonderfully well-written historical romance. But it is also a great deal more than that. The Dark Lady is a tale of child abuse and a realistic look at the plight of women in medieval times. The story revolves around Vanessa Fordella, whose mother was forced to marry a man she didn’t love. In her thirst for revenge, Patricia Fordella runs away with another man and takes one-year-old Vanessa with her. In order to hide her from her real father, Patricia makes Vanessa pretend to be a boy, the son on the man Patricia runs away with. The charade goes so far that Patricia actually sends Van to become a nobleman’s squire. Van excels at this and when she saves the nobleman’s life, the king makes her a knight...The story is well written, the plot strong, the research solid, and the characters extremely well done. –
Taylor Jones, reviewer

The book is long, almost 180,000 words, and when I was first given it to review, I thought, surely they could have cut some of it. But as I read it, I discovered that there wasn’t a scene I felt the book could realistically do without. This is not a book you can read in one sitting, but I believe it is worth the time it takes to read it. I don’t usually care for sagas, but this one is so well done, I found myself so into the story that I didn’t mind how long the book was. I loved reading about Vanessa as she struggled with all the things that encompassed being a woman, from the clothes she had to wear to the way she was allowed to ride a horse. I especially loved the scene where she decides if she has to wear the accursed dresses in order to be a woman, she will damned well learn how to move easily in them. And she practices for hours until she can move as easily in a dress as she could in pants. This one is a keeper, folks. –
Regan Murphy, reviewer

THE DARK LADY

By

Dawn Chandler

A BLACK OPAL BOOKS PUBLICATION

Copyright 2013 by Dawn Chandler

Cover Art by Dawn Chandler

Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved

eBook ISBN: 978-1-626940-12-3

Excerpt

Her new life as a woman was hardest when innocents were in danger...

Peter watched her walk away, head high and determined. He was about to go after her, despite her objections when she placed two fingers into her mouth. The deafening whistle that issued forth stopped him in his tracks.

He registered the answering scream of a horse from the stables and the crash of wood that could only have been the stall gate. Not looking back at the screams of the stable hands, he kept his eyes glued to the tall woman as she grasped the hole where he now knew her dagger was kept.

Vanessa grasped the material and pulled. Peter heard the long tear as the skirt fell open completely on the side, baring her leg from thigh to ankle. During it all, she never broke her stride.

Peter called out as her huge destrier thundered past him, screamed for her to watch out. Beast began to slow until Vanessa whistled again. He regained his speed, tearing straight for her. Peter’s breath caught in his throat as he knew he would not be able to save her.

She reached out a long arm, gripping the coarse waving mane as the animal thundered past, and smoothly swung herself onto his massive back.

Peter felt a jolt of fear as she wobbled slightly on the racing stallion, one creamy white leg glistening in the dim sunlight. Shadows played off the thick muscles as they rippled in her effort to stay on the unsaddled mount.

The men all stood with their mouths agape as their Lady rode toward the wall. For once Peter did not feel a twinge of jealousy. He fully understood their awe.

Vanessa leaned forward and ducked her head as if to avoid the wind. Her stallion rode straight for the wall. He did not slow or turn and then, to Peter’s horror, he was too close to change course.

“
She would not.” Peter did not even realize he had spoken aloud until he felt a small hand on his. He looked down to see Amy’s smile.

“
Milord, she would, but she will be all right.” She spoke with confidence.

Peter wished he could be as sure, but he wasn’t.

He thought his heart would stop as Vanessa did what he had feared she would. He held in a scream as the massive animal bundled its legs underneath it, taking the jump smoothly. Leaning forward, she seemed one with the animal.

He had time to imagine her broken and bloody body lying beneath the horse, both dying.

DEDICATION

To my loving husband, for helping me to believe in myself and for showing me that anything is possible and every dream achievable when you have someone to stand beside you.

To my children who spent much of their childhood listening to me say...just wait till I finish this chapter.

To my mother, who has always stood behind my dreams and supported me.

Thank you all for your loving support.

CHAPTER 1

England April, 1155
:

Lightning crackled across the midnight sky illuminating the battle that raged around Peter Lawston. He took in the scene in that split second of brightness. The screams of his warriors paled beneath the sounds of thunder and the raging wind. Rain ran in rivers from Peter’s drenched hair, blurring his vision and flooding into his mouth as he barked out orders. Worry constricted his chest as his men struggled against the enemy.

Eolian’s attack had been swift and brutal, but Peter’s men had been ready. The army riding with Knight Eolian had been terrorizing the neighboring holds and lands for months, burning fields, raping women, and killing anyone who stood up to them.

Following the path of destruction left by Eolian had been simple and Peter had pushed his men hard to get ahead of them. He then set up camp in their path and waited.

He did not have long to wait.

That morning, with dawn still hours away, the cries of battle had broken the silence that blanketed the land. At first torches had sufficed to light the way, now only the biggest of bon fires survived the deluge that befell them. Everything was drenched and the battle sounds fell short in the walls of water that cascaded down.

A blur of movement beside him drew Peter’s attention and he tightened his grip on his mace. He tensed in anticipation as a warrior raced toward him, a broadsword held high above his head.

There was no time for fear, just a steady rush of awareness and energy. His body tingled with power. Mud flew from beneath the warrior’s pounding feet and caked the fur of his leggings. Peter raised his mace and braced himself. He swung. Blood flew and the man fell.

The sodden ground sucked at Peter’s feet as another man came at him. He waited and then swung his mace hard. There was the crunching of bone and the man fell. Man after man pierced the darkness, charging forward. When no one came to Peter he went to them.

The exhilaration of battle was short lived. Peter’s adrenaline was quickly wearing off, leaving him feeling drained and empty as he fought his way through the muck. His mind was becoming just as weary of this life as his body was. He was too old for this.

He stopped in the ankle deep mud, trying to ignore the cold that crept through his muscles and invaded his bones. The battered and broken bodies of his enemy lay glistening with sweat and rain as the tenacious flames covered them with flickering light. Peter shook his head. Pity tightened his chest. These men would no longer feel the warmth of the glowing fire. Its welcoming heat caressed them, but was wasted.

Not long ago, Peter had enjoyed his role as leader of the army, but now what he thought of was the families of these men. No matter what these men had done, they had wives and children who would never see them again. Where once Peter had felt elation at victory, there was now only a painful sadness for the ones who were lost and the families who were left behind. At nine and twenty it was time to think of his own life and future, or more importantly the future of Castle Grayweist.

Rain hissed into the fire and steam swirled around him. In the mist that caressed his face he saw his father before him. Peter was once again standing at the crackling fireplace in the library, trying to convince his father that everything would be all right...

***

His father’s face wrinkled in worry as he paced in front of the large oak desk. “What am I going to do if you do not return? If you die my name will end. You are all I have to show that I was ever here.” Gesturing to the shelves of books and the expensive furniture that adorned the large room, he shook his head in frustration. “All I have built, all of this, will mean nothing without you. You are my future.” His face relaxed as he stopped before Peter. Gripping his hand, he smiled softly. “Please come home safe.”

A deep breath did little to calm Peter’s emotions. “Father, everything will work out and I will be coming home.” He could hear the strain within his own voice. Heat from the crackling fireplace behind him made him think of the cold and wet nights that were in store for him. He rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes. “I will be fine, I always am.”

“
Make this your last battle.” His father’s voice cracked with emotion. “I want to see you settled down with a wife and children who you love and cherish. I want to see my name go on but more, I want you to have a good life and to be loved and happy.”

***

Lost in thoughts that had no business on the battle ground, Peter was drawn abruptly back into the Hell that surrounded him as pain exploded through his shoulder. The warm comfort of the library vanished as the long blade of a dagger cut violently into the small area that his chest plate failed to cover. Peter lost his footing as the man, wide as the boulders that surrounded them, first twisted and then ripped the dagger from his mangled shoulder.

Peter’s mace slipped from his fingers and was lost in the sludge. The mud splashed around him as he fell. His helm slipped from his head. He threw his arms up to defend himself against the beast of a man who leaned in for the fatal blow. He wondered irrationally why this man was fighting with just a dagger as he reached for his own.

Peter’s dagger never cleared its sheath as the man’s log of a foot came down, crushing his wrist. This man was going to kill him. His father had been right to worry. He would not be going home.

That thought had just begun to form when a shadowy figure parted from the darkness and lunged at the man. The giant was knocked off balance as the man collided with him, forcing him off of Peter’s arm. The crushing pain disappeared as he was freed. He slid closer to the bonfire. Heat penetrated through his armor and a warm trickle of blood ran down his arm and side.

Rain and fire fought their own battle behind him, hissing and crackling, creating a mist that enveloped everything around them. Peter could hear nothing but the sounds of the fire and the booming thunder. He never took his eyes off the two figures in the mist before him. The man that had saved him circled the enemy with not so much as a dagger in his hand.

His rescuer was tall and wide through the shoulders, but the massive man was a head taller and had at least a hundred pounds on the smaller man. Peter tried to identify him, but only caught a glimpse of shimmering chain mail and armor before he disappeared behind the larger man.