Series: Daughters of His Kingdom
Genre: Historical, Romance, Christian
Publisher: Liberty Publishing
Publication date: June 20, 2017
Number of pages: 346
Since
the night her dear uncle gave his life for hers, Hannah Young is
determined to risk everything by spying for the Patriots in order to
seek retribution against the British soldier who killed him. But when
her former love, Joseph Wythe, insists on ensuring her safety, she must
decide if the vengeance she seeks is worth the danger of his nearness.
For the love she once felt is liable to grow deeper and more threatening
to her heart than it ever was before.
Leaving his young ward to
join the fight for liberty is the hardest thing Joseph Wythe has ever
done. Nearly. The most difficult happened ten years past, which he tries
his best forget. Seeing Hannah Young again after all this time does
something frightening and wonderful to his soul. Though her
determination to spy for the
Patriots
is honorable and brave, he will never allow her to take such a risk
without him to protect her, no matter how she protests—and no matter how
he knows he will ache all the more for the thing he always wanted and
still could never have.
A Pacific Northwest native, Amber Lynn Perry
lives in Washington state with her husband and two daughters. She
studied humanities at Portland State University and graduated with a
Bachelor’s degree focused on art history. As a homeschooling mom, Amber
spends much of her time teaching everything from Shakespeare to science.
When
she isn’t crafting with her kids, making dinner or driving to dance
classes, Amber is either reading or writing about her favorite time in
American history. The Revolutionary era has captured her imagination
from the time she was in middle school. Through her books, Amber hopes
to not only give readers a glimpse into the past, but to instill in them
a lasting love of liberty.
Creating a cover is probably one of the most exciting things about the
writing process—for me anyway. It brings the story to life and is the
first impression that potential readers will have, so it’s got to be
good. I knew before my first book was released that I wanted to dress-up
and be on the cover because finding good photography or art that
depicts the colonial era is difficult. I started saving my money and
after I had enough, I purchased a dress straight from Colonial
Williamsburg because authenticity is important to me, and I knew I could
trust it to be period correct.
One of my friends was willing to
take some pictures and, oh, was I thrilled how they turned out! After
that, I knew I wanted to be on every cover because the result was just
what I’d hoped. At first I didn’t want to make public the fact that I
was on the cover, but after a little encouragement from some fellow
authors, I decided to make it known—and I’m so glad I did! It’s been a
great thing to talk about with readers and I think they really enjoy it.
At least I hope they do. ;)
Book four was no exception. I was
really excited about this cover shoot because I knew I wanted to feature
a hat with my costume—I love hats!! I had it specially made by a woman
who owns an incredible Etsy shop and knows more about Colonial era
clothing than anyone I’ve ever spoken with. The top I wore for this
shoot was also from Colonial Williamsburg, actually, as was the purple
apron. I knew from the get-go that it was going to be great, but once I
saw the cover all put together…I was over the moon!
I feel so
grateful to get to be part of such a fun, creative process and I hope to
be able to do a few more in the future. <3
Chapter One
Alone, Hannah Young stared at the dirt-covered mound as the chilled air breached the warmth of her heavy cloak.
Graves are sorry things.
The
words her uncle had spoken not an hour past replayed in her mind and
held solid the reality she wished not to accept, but must. Her dearest
aunt Bea, her friend and confidant—the woman she’d loved as a mother—was
never coming back.
Hannah looked up, gazing across the lonely hill,
straining to gather any rational thought through the thick fog of
sorrow. At the sight of the house a hundred paces away, and Uncle Ensign
nearing the plot where she stood, Hannah’s eyes burned. There was
nothing they could have done to save her. ’Twas Bea’s time, and God had
called her home. Such knowledge should strengthen, should it not?
Lowering her head, she smoothed her cold fingers around the soft emblem
in her hand. It should, but it would never quell the pain. That she
knew. For still she grieved the loss of ten years past, as if ’twas only
yesterday.
“Hannah, you should not still be here.”
She glanced up
at the sound of Ensign’s voice, then turned again to Bea’s cold resting
place. “Perhaps.” She could say no more without weeping.
“The others
have long since returned home. As should you.” He put his arm around
her shoulder and pulled her close as the gray clouds mourned over them.
At long last his heavy tone returned to mingle with the air. “She loved
you, my dear. More than you can ever know.”
Nodding, Hannah’s throat grew thick, impeding the reply that wished for release.
And I her.
Ensign
cleared his throat, but still his words came out thick and broken. “We
shall always have the memories of our dear Beatrice. And though she is
gone from us in this life, I know we shall see her in the next.”
Hot streams of tears rolled over Hannah’s cold cheeks. “You have such faith, Uncle.”
He released a quivering breath before his solemn reply. “I could not bear the grief if I did not.”
Hannah
allowed his words to rest in the wintery air, consumed by both love and
heartache, before the thoughts she’d been forming found shape in her
voice. “She was so good to me. She loved me anyway.” Hannah glanced down
at the tiny knitted booties in her hand, speaking through the tears she
could no longer restrain. “Both of you loved me despite everything, and
I could never repay such kindness, no matter how I tried.”
He
tightened his loving grip and whispered in her ear. “There is nothing to
repay, sweet child. She loved you as her own, as do I.” He coughed to
clear his throat and straightened his stance. “Your father gave up a
great treasure when he left you to us. He is a lost man. We must pray
for him.”
The tears halted at the mention of Philo Young, and she
glanced up, unrepentant for the truth that spilled out. “I fear I have
given up praying for him. He will never...” She couldn’t finish the
rest.
“Forgive me.” Ensign looked down at her, the deep lines around
his eyes flaring before he kissed her temple. “I should not have
mentioned it. I know how it pains you.”
She glanced down at the booties once again and tried to speak through the strain in her throat. “That is not all that pains me.”
An audible sigh left him, and he pulled her closer. “I know.”
Hannah
inhaled a choppy breath, attempting to cleanse away the dark clouds
that closed upon her mind. “At times...at times it seems as though ’twas
only yesterday. Then in the next breath, I feel ’twas a different
lifetime.”
The memories she wrestled gathered hard and fast, like
storm clouds darkening an already bitter night. She shifted her feet and
tucked the booties in her skirt pocket, attempting in vain to tuck away
the thoughts with equal ease. “Without Bea—without you both beside
me—I...”
I would not have lived. Hannah looked away, unable to
finish the thought aloud. “And now I shall never again be able to tell
her how much I loved her, how grateful I am, how I shall never forget
her.”
Ensign released his hold and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “I heard you speak such to her every day.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
“Dear
child.” He kissed her hair once more, then moved back, one hand still
on her shoulder. “You must return inside—I beg you. You have been too
long in this chill.”
He turned and started down the hill, but she
called after him, the cold slowing her lips as she spoke. “Only a moment
more, Uncle. I cannot leave her just yet.”
Ensign stopped and
glanced back at the grave, eyes red. Not moving his gaze, he answered
her request with a pained smile to hide the quivering of his chin.
Wiping a stray tear from his cheek, he took in a long breath, blinking
as if he still struggled to accept the truth, the same as she. His mouth
tightened, and he offered a quick nod before striding down the slight
slope toward the house.
The cold cinched harder, stinging Hannah’s
cheeks as she stared at the earthen catacomb of her only and dearest
friend. She looked up, blinking against the moisture in her eyes. She
had Ensign, true. And Caroline. But her cousin was in Sandwich, and
though their treasured letters brightened every week, Hannah could not
fathom how she would endure every day without Bea’s smiles and humor,
her light and wisdom.
Again, she dropped her gaze, recalling Caroline’s most recent pleading.
Nay. She
hugged her arms around her chest under her cloak and rubbed them to
fight against the cold. Never would she return there, no matter how her
dearest cousin begged, no matter how lonely the years ahead might prove.
Sandwich was the place of her youth, the place of her formative years,
aye. But ’twas the place where her past still lived and breathed.
She
reached into her pocket, eyes trained on the clouded horizon. Circling
her fingers against the memory, she pushed back the bitterness that
pressed against the doors she’d hidden it behind. Here in Plymouth she
had discovered the meaning of true caring, true love of family.
Hannah
tightened her fist around the soft wool as the face of the one man she
longed to forget filled her vision as real as if he stood before her.
She looked to the house to escape the illusion of him, but it lingered,
forcing the imprisoned emotions to cry for freedom.
’Twas as much your doing as his, was it not?
The
wind whipped harder now, signaling the need to find refuge indoors.
Loathing to part, Hannah blew a kiss toward the lonely mound, grateful,
almost, for the distraction that allowed her to leave her post without
weeping.
Walking across the snow, she gripped her cloak, shivering as
the memories thumped harder in her chest. Ten years had passed, and
still she thought of him. Foolish. For surely he thought not of her.
At
the back step she clutched the handle, breathing away her past before
she could enter. The light from the house peeked through the small
cracks in the wood, like her hope that refused to die.
After all they had done—after all they had lost— and still her heart betrayed her.
She grasped the handle tighter and pushed the door open.
She had forgiven him, aye. But she could never, ever forget.
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Jennifer
Delamere's debut Victorian romance, "An Heiress at Heart," was a 2013
RITA award finalist in the inspirational category. Her follow-up novel,
"A Lady Most Lovely," received a starred review from "Publishers Weekly"
and the Maggie Award for Excellence from Georgia Romance Writers.
Jennifer earned a BA in English from McGill University in Montreal,
where she became fluent in French and developed an abiding passion for
winter sports. She's been an editor of nonfiction and educational
materials for nearly two decades, and lives in North Carolina with her
husband.
Jennifer
Delamere's debut Victorian romance, "An Heiress at Heart," was a 2013
RITA award finalist in the inspirational category. Her follow-up novel,
"A Lady Most Lovely," received a starred review from "Publishers Weekly"
and the Maggie Award for Excellence from Georgia Romance Writers.
Jennifer earned a BA in English from McGill University in Montreal,
where she became fluent in French and developed an abiding passion for
winter sports. She's been an editor of nonfiction and educational
materials for nearly two decades, and lives in North Carolina with her
husband.
