The Warrior's Captive Bride
September 2016
Harlequin Historical
ISBN-10: 0373298951
ISBN-13: 978-0373298952

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Behind the Story

His wife for two moons…? 

Plagued by a mysterious sickness, Crow warrior Night Storm captures the witch he believes cursed him. But his anticipated revenge dissolves when he realizes that beautiful Skylark might be the only one who can provide a cure…

Skylark agrees to pose as Night Storm's wife so she can find a way to heal him. But when an unexpected desire flares, Sky's mission changes and she'll do everything in her power to find a way to make their arrangement last a lifetime!



Reviews for The Warrior's Captive Bride

"Beautifully told, steeped in Crow tradition, culture and spirituality, this novel respectfully depicts the people. A gift for Western romance readers!"
RT Book Reviews

Excerpt from The Warrior's Captive Bride


If Cassidy “Will you ride with me?” asked Night Storm.

She knew what he asked. It was not unheard-of. A woman met a man from another tribe. They rendezvoused in secret and one day he took her from her parent’s lodge. When the tribes gathered in the fall, she would return to her people with a new husband from another tribe. But she did not know this man.

Oh, she could see his accomplishments and his strength. But who was he on the inside?

“I do not know you well enough to ride with you.”

“Riding with me is a good way to get to know me better.” His smile coaxed and the glint in his eye enticed. She wanted to accept his offer, but that was not all she wanted. The tingling in her belly told her that. She also wanted a man of her own.

But she shook her head.

“Or, I could help you look for your father.”

She must find her father and get him back to camp, and she could use his help. He had a horse, after all.

“Come,” he coaxed.

He extended his hand and Skylark stared at the broad palm and long, elegant fingers. She was so tempted, but she remained where she was. Once on his horse there was no guarantee that he would help her search. He might just take her to his tribe. And while he was handsome and finely formed, she resisted her longing. She could not deny her desire, but caution still ruled. She ground her teeth together as she considered what to do.

She shook her head.

“I could just take you,” he said.

She weighed her options. None of the warriors of other tribes had offered for her. Her aunt, Winter Moon, said it was because they did not wish a wife who had more power than they did. Yet the man before her was handsome and willing. And he did not seem afraid.

The chance she took was small and mighty all at once. He was strong. She found his face appealing with a blade of a nose and thick arching brows set above deep brown eyes that watched her every move. She admired the clean line of his jaw and how the corners of his mouth lifted under her gaze in an expression of confidence and interest…in her. It was the sort of face she would never grow tired of seeing. Her heart ached just at the sight of him. Was this the longing her aunt had described, the kind she had never felt until she looked upon this man?

But who was he really? Did he have a good heart?

“I am a medicine woman. I do not cook or tan or sew. I would make you a bad wife.”

“You do not need to cook or tan or sew.”

Skylark’s eyes narrowed. What man would wish a woman who did not perform her duties? And then it struck her.

Her mother’s warning came to her as if whispered in her ear. Skylark straightened. He already had someone to do these things.

“You already have a wife?”

His smile flickered and the pause was a little too long. “I have not yet wed.”

Not yet. She narrowed her eyes feeling the half-truth crawling over her skin like a spider. “But you have offered for one?”

“You are too clever for a woman, Skylark. Why do you not come with me? You can meet Beautiful Meadow. You two could be as sisters. She will cook and you will make strong medicines.”

Skylark backed away. She would never be a second wife. Her mother had often told her that a second wife was little better than an enemy slave. She might fare better in the hands of the Sioux than in the lodge of a woman who did not want her there.

“I will never be a second wife.”

“Then be my first wife. I will marry you first.”

“You do not even know me.”

His eyes swept over her. “My eyes tell me all I need know.”

“Then know this, I will not share a husband with another. Go back to the Black Lodges and marry your Beautiful Meadow, for I will not go with you.”

His brow lifted as if seeing her rejection as a challenge. His eyes fixed upon her and she knew in that moment what it was to be hunted. She dropped her gathering bag and ran, darting in and out of the tree trunks and leaping over fallen logs. He gave her a head start. It was several moments before she heard the horse’s hooves pounding on the soft ground.


(c) 2016, Jenna Kernan. Excerpt by permission of Harlequin LTD. TM