Cross of Tarlis By JULIE A. D'ARCY 

If you enjoy Fantasy Romance which is a little different than the norm, with lots of action, twists and turns, rugged handsome tainted heroes, Mythical beings, creatures of Fey and heroines who do not mind getting a little blood on their hands, you have come to the right place!

    cover by J. A. D'Arcy                         

Historical Ghost Romance, featuring witchcraft and re-incarnation   

(c) Julie D'Arcy

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,

And lovers around her are sighing;

But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps,

For her heart in his grave is lying.

–       Thomas Moore

      Excerpt

He leaned in closer. He could feel her soft breath on his face, her rose perfume embracing him. Even her scent seemed familiar. “I would like very much to kiss you. I am going to kiss you for I cannot help but do so.”

She swayed into him and his arms came around her. His lips claimed hers in a soft caress, then searing, branding, he crushed her to his chest. He had wanted to be gentle, coaxing in respect for her innocence, but from that first touch, he was lost. His tongue pushed into her mouth and she welcomed him with a sweet sigh. Her mouth a pure aphrodisiac; hot, smooth and tasting of honey.

An image of Cai and Alyssa entered his mind.

Her fiery hair, wild about her shoulders, her eyes bright, her face flushed with passion. They were in the tower room on the floor.  Hot blistering passion. She melted into him as if she belonged, as if she had always belonged. Pressing, melding, bodies grinding, entwined. Flesh upon flesh.  Her hands burned feverishly as they pressed against his abdomen, dragging at the laces of his breeches...

Aidan tore his mouth from hers and the image fled. He ended the kiss with passion riding him hard, it was all he could do to stop from tossing her to the grass like a whore and burying himself between her thighs. He shoved her from him before thought become reality. Though he did not release her and his fingers bit into her soft upper arms. He saw her wince, but she didn’t cry out. She was stronger than he imagined. He held her there at arm’s length, his anger bubbling like an inferno in his chest. “What was that?” he hissed, releasing her abruptly and backing away. “I thought I knew you.” He shook his head, his breath coming harsh, fractured. “But I don’t know you, do I?  Not at all. No properly brought up young lady kisses like that. Nor does she press herself into a man’s arms in such a wanton manner. No. I don’t know you at all.” He twisted and strode swiftly to disappear through the rose arches at the side of the garden.

 Alyssa watched him go in silence, restraining a wild urge to race after him, to call him back, to tell him it had always been this way between them. She was trembling, confused, had he seen what she had seen?

She had thought the vision that played in her mind while they kissed had been a memory. Now she was not so sure. Had her being a ghost worked a strange power upon them both? Had they somehow been transformed back to a time when he had held her so, and their love had burned.    

Love for her and Cai had never been a gentle thing that could be mastered. It had been wild, passionate and untamable. They had known each other for such a short time before death had parted them, and made love only twice. But  he had kissed her many times in the seven days before their marriage, and each time it had been the same–bone melting, earth shattering, lustful and powerful.

 And now she had felt it once more with Aidan d’Morgan, Cai’s likeness, and wondered how she could bear to be parted from him again. But there was no place in this chaste world in which Aidan lived for a love such as theirs, and now he thought her a woman of ill repute. She sighed. Why did he have to kiss her? All had been ruined. She was content to see him, talk to him and occasionally touch his hand. Now all that was spoiled.

She had been a simpleton to think that he was a reincarnation of Cai , or indeed anything like him. Aidan d’Morgan had no passion in his soul. He was a stranger. A stranger she did not really know. Yet, still she could not let the dream of him go…