{"id":4208,"date":"2010-03-09T13:28:33","date_gmt":"2010-03-09T18:28:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=4208"},"modified":"2010-03-09T13:28:33","modified_gmt":"2010-03-09T18:28:33","slug":"the-raven-saint-by-m-l-tyndall","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=4208","title":{"rendered":"The Raven Saint by M. L. Tyndall"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> <\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n


<\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n


<\/p>\n

M. L. Tyndall<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Raven Saint (Charles Towne Belles) <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Barbour Books (January 1, 2010)<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>M.L. Tyndall, a Christy Award Finalist, and best-selling author of the Legacy of the King\u2019s Pirates series is known for her adventurous historical romances filled with deep spiritual themes. She holds a degree in Math and worked as a software engineer for fifteen years before testing the waters as a writer. MaryLu currently writes full time and makes her home on the California coast with her husband, six kids, and four cats. Her passion is to write page-turning, romantic adventures that not only entertain but expose Christians to their full potential in Christ.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.
\n Visit the author’s blog<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\n<\/embed><\/object>\n<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $10.97
\n Paperback: 320 pages
\n Publisher: Barbour Books (January 1, 2010)
\n Language: English
\n ISBN-10: 1602601585
\n ISBN-13: 978-1602601581<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Outside Charles Towne, Carolina, October, 1718<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n

Chapter 1<\/p>\n

Black, menacing clouds snarled a warning from the Carolina skies.<\/p>\n

Clutching her skirts, Grace Westcott trudged down the muddy path. A shard of white light forked across the dark vault, and she glanced up as thunder rumbled in the distance.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope the rain doesn\u2019t catch us, miss.\u201d Alice\u2019s shaky voice tumbled over Grace from behind.<\/p>\n

\u201cNever fear, Alice, we are almost there.\u201d Grace pushed aside a leafy branch that encroached upon the trail. As the wind picked up and raindrops began to rap on the leaves above them, the wall of greenery arching overhead provided a shelter that brought an odd comfort to Grace.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, miss. This plant. Isn\u2019t it bloodroot?\u201d Alice squeaked. \u201cTo heal afflictions of the skin?\u201d<\/p>\n

Grace huffed. Her legs ached from the mile-long journey from Charles Towne. She could hear the rush of the Ashley River in the distance. They were close to the Roberts\u2019 cabin, to poor little Thomas, sick with a fever and in desperate need of the medicines they brought.<\/p>\n

Whirling around, Grace examined the leaf in her maid\u2019s hands. \u201cNay. \u2019Tis not bloodroot, as you well know.\u201d She searched Alice\u2019s eyes but the maid kept her gaze lowered. \u201cWhatever is the matter with you today?\u201d<\/p>\n

The maid cast a quick glance over her shoulder and shrugged. \u201cI am only trying to help, miss.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can help by hurrying along. Thomas may be failing as we speak.\u201d Grabbing her skirts, Grace turned and forged ahead. A drop of rain splattered on her forehead, and she swiped it away.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the rain, miss. Shouldn\u2019t we return home and don some proper attire?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMercy me, Alice. We are nearly there. A bit of rain will not harm us. We\u2019ve been in far more dangerous situations.\u201d Grace hoisted the sack stuffed with herbs, fresh fruit, and rice farther up her aching shoulder. \u201cBesides we are going about God\u2019s work. He will take care of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grace heard Alice\u2019s shoes squish in the mud \u201cIndeed, miss.\u201d.<\/p>\n

Her maid\u2019s voice quivered\u2014a quiver that set Grace\u2019s nerves on edge, along with the dark tempest brewing above them. Something was bothering the woman, Grace couldn\u2019t guess what.<\/p>\n

Another flash lit up the sky. Releasing her skirts to the sticky mud, Grace pushed aside a tangled vine that seemed to be joining forces with Alice in attempting to keep her from continuing. Musky air, heavy with moisture and laden with scents of earth and life, filled her nostrils. Thunder bellowed, closer this time, and raindrops tapped upon the canopy of leaves overhead. Plowing ahead, Grace ignored the twinge of guilt at her most recent expedition. One of many expeditions she\u2019d been strictly forbidden to embark upon\u2014both by her father, before he set sail for Spain, and more recently, her sister Faith and Faith\u2019s new husband, Dajon. But Grace could not allow anyone or anything to stop her from doing what God had commissioned her to do: feed the poor, tend to the sick, and spread the good news of His Gospel.<\/p>\n

She glanced up at the dark clouds swirling like some vile witch\u2019s brew. Perhaps she should have left a note informing Faith of her whereabouts. No matter. She would drop off the food and herbs, attend to Thomas, and be home before sunset.<\/p>\n

Grace emerged from the green fortress into a clearing. Thunder bellowed, and she shivered as a chill struck her. In the distance, the wide Ashley River tumbled along its course. A cabin perched by the water\u2019s edge, smoke curling from its chimney. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and quickened her pace. \u201cHere at last. And, as you can see, Alice, all is well.\u201d<\/p>\n

A nervous giggle sounded from behind her.<\/p>\n

Hoisting the sack higher up on her shoulders, Grace clutched her skirts and climbed the steps of the cabin, but before she could knock on the door, it swung open. Mr. Roberts, a burly red-faced man with unruly dark hair, stared curiously at her for a moment then cocked his head and smiled. \u201cMiss Grace. A grand pleasure to see you.\u201d His glance took in Alice standing on the steps behind Grace. His forehead wrinkled. \u201cWhat brings you this far from home on such a rainy day? Helen, Miss Grace has come for a visit,\u201d he yelled over his shoulder. The scent of smoke and some sort of meaty stew wafted over Grace.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, we\u2019ve come to help Thomas of course.\u201d Lightning flashed, casting a momentary grayish shroud over Mr. Roberts\u2019s normally ruddy face.<\/p>\n

\u201cThomas needs help?\u201d He scratched his thick, dark mane.<\/p>\n

Alice\u2019s boots thudded on the steps, and Grace turned to see her maid inching away from the cabin, her chin lowered.<\/p>\n

Shaking her head, Grace faced Mr. Roberts. \u201cYes, you sent Alfred yesterday to inform us of Thomas\u2019s fever and ask for my help, did you not?\u201d The man looked puzzled. Grace slid the sack from her shoulder and set it down on the planks of the porch. \u201cI\u2019ve brought elder root and dogwood bark for his fever and some fresh fruit and rice for you and your family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Roberts appeared in the doorway, her infant daughter cradled in her arms. \u201cGrace, what a wonderful surprise. Henry, don\u2019t just stand there. Invite her in out of the rain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThomas isn\u2019t sick.\u201d Mr. Roberts\u2019 nose wrinkled. \u201cAnd Alfred was here with us all day yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grace swerved about to question Alice, but the girl was nowhere in sight. Descending the stairs, she dashed into the clearing, her heart in her throat as she scanned the foliage for any sign of her maid.<\/p>\n

A swoosh of leaves and stomp of boots reached her ears, then a band of five men materialized from the foliage. Armed with cutlasses and pistols, they stormed toward Grace. She tried to move her feet, but the thick mud clung to them like shackles. Mr. Roberts cursed and ushered his wife inside. The baby began to howl.<\/p>\n

A tall, sinewy man halted before her. A burst of wind struck him, fluttering the green feather atop his cocked hat and the tips of the black hair grazing his shoulders. He shifted his jaw, peppered with black stubble, and gazed at her with eyes the color of the dark clouds churning above them. A slow smile crept across his lips, lifting his thin, rakish mustache. \u201cMademoiselle Grace Westcott, I presume.\u201d His thick French accent turned her blood to ice.<\/p>\n

Grace met his gaze squarely. \u201cI am, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a snap of his fingers, two of his men flanked her. \u201cYou will come with us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI will not.\u201d The men wrenched her arms behind her back. Pain shot across her shoulders.<\/p>\n

The snap of a rifle sounded, drawing the man\u2019s attention to Mr. Roberts pointing his musket in their direction. \u201cLeave her be.\u201d<\/p>\n

A flicker of relief eased over Grace, quickly fading when she examined the man before her. Instead of fear, amusement sparked in his eyes. The men on either side of Grace chuckled as if Mr. Roberts had told a joke.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuel homme galant, but I fear I cannot do that, monsieur.\u201d The leader crossed his arms over his gray waistcoat and scraped a finger along his lean chin. \u201cWith a bit of fortune and a good aim, you may shoot one of us. Mais that would leave you and your family completely at our mercy. Comprenez-vous?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Roberts stared at him for a long moment, obviously measuring the man.<\/p>\n

\u201cToss your weapon to the ground, monsieur and go into your house. If you come out, we will shoot you. If you fire another weapon at us, we will kill your family.<\/p>\n

A short, barrel-chested man beside the leader drew his pistol and leveled it at Mr. Roberts. The sneer on his face suggested he would love nothing more than to shoot the man where he stood.<\/p>\n

The musket quivered in Mr. Roberts\u2019s hands as he perused the band of ruffians, but still he did not relent. Grace shook her head, sending her friend a silent appeal. She would not allow him to put his family in jeopardy for her.<\/p>\n

Mr. Roberts swallowed, threw his weapon into the mud, and gave her an apologetic look before slipping inside the cabin and closing the door with an ominous thud that echoed Grace\u2019s fate.<\/p>\n

She faced the leader. Thunder roared across the clearing. \u201cWhat have you done with Alice?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlice? Hmm.\u201d His eyes lit up. \u201cVotre servante? I merely paid her well for leading you to us.\u201d He grinned.<\/p>\n

The skies opened and released a torrent of rain upon Grace as if God Himself shed the tears that now burned behind her eyes. How could Alice have done such a thing? She had been Grace\u2019s personal maid for the past five years\u2014had traveled with her in the crossing from Portsmouth to Charles Towne.<\/p>\n

The rain bounced off the cocked hat and the broad shoulders of the man before her. Drops streamed down Grace\u2019s face, her neck, soaked into her gown, and befogged the scene before her. If only the fresh water from heaven could wash away these devilish creatures like holy water sprinkled upon evil.<\/p>\n

The black-haired man turned and marched away as though her desperate wish had reached God\u2019s ears. But then his two minions wrenched her arms again and dragged her behind him. Panic seized her. This couldn\u2019t be happening! She dug her heels into the mud but her captors merely lifted her from the ground. Pain scorched across her arms and neck.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, sir. Please. What do you want with me?\u201d<\/p>\n

But the only reply came from the rain pounding on the leaves and the thunder rumbling across the sky.<\/p>\n

They plunged back into the thick forest. Grace struggled against the men\u2019s meaty grips. Even if she did manage to break free from them, tree trunks rose like prison bars on either side of her holding her captive within the dense thicket. They trudged down the path for what seemed an eternity. Each step dug the knife of fear deeper into Grace\u2019s heart. Silently, she appealed to God for her salvation, begging to hear His comforting voice, but her petitions were met with the same silence her captors afforded her. Finally, they emerged onto a secluded shore, and the men shoved her onto the thwart of a small boat then launched the craft into the rushing river. In the distance Grace saw a two-masted brig swaying with the rolling tide.<\/p>\n

Lord, where are You? She clasped her hands together and tried to catch her breath.<\/p>\n

The black-haired man locked a smoldering gaze upon her. He did not look away as propriety demanded but perused her with alarming audacity. Rain streamed off his hat onto his black breeches, and a smirk creased one corner of his mouth. Averting her gaze to the agitated water, she considered leaping overboard. She couldn\u2019t swim. At least not well enough to fight the strong Ashley current. Besides, surely God would rescue her from these brigands. He was simply testing her faith by waiting until the last minute when things were at their worst. Lifting her chin, she cast a defiant look upon her captor, but it only caused his smirk to widen.<\/p>\n

Within minutes, they reached the ship and thudded against its hull. Shouts pitched upon them from above as faces popped over the bulwarks to peer down at her. Grace glanced about for the rescuer God should have sent by now. The leader pulled her to her feet, and before she could make a move, he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and climbed the rope ladder without effort.<\/p>\n

Grace could no longer feel the fear or even the damp chill. Numbness gripped her, born of shock at her predicament. Blood rushed to her head, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the musky scent of the man\u2019s damp wool waistcoat and praying for the nightmare to end.<\/p>\n

Once aboard, he carried her across deck as he issued a string of orders in French, sending his crew scrambling in every direction.<\/p>\n

\u201cWelcome back, Captain,\u201d a deep voice shouted, then a shock of brown hair appeared in Grace\u2019s vision. \u201cI see you found her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOui, bien s\u00fbr.\u201d His tone carried the haughtiness that excluded any other possibility as he tapped her on the rump.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow dare you!\u201d Grace shouted and tried to kick her legs, but the captain\u2019s arm kept them pinned to his chest. The two men shared a chuckle.<\/p>\n

\u201cWeigh anchor, away aloft, and raise the main, Mr. Thorn. We set sail immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n

Raindrops bounced over the wooden planks, pelting her from all directions. Her head bumped against his damp coat. His hard shoulder pressed into her aching stomach as he carried her down a ladder. She stretched her hand to grab the hilt of his rapier, but it taunted her from its sheath at his other side, out of her reach. She pounded her fists against his back. Muscle as unyielding as steel sent pain through her hands.<\/p>\n

With a chuckle, he sauntered down a hallway and kicked open a door. Grace tensed, fearing the man would toss her to the floor. Instead, grasping her waist, he gently set her down inside the tiny cabin.<\/p>\n

Gaining her balance, Grace wiped the matted strands of wet hair from her face and faced him. \u201cWho are you and what do you want with me?\u201d she said in a stalwart tone that surprised her.<\/p>\n

He doffed his feathered hat and banged it against his knee, sending droplets over the floor. Tucking an errant strand of wet hair behind his ear, he bowed. \u201cCaptain Rafe Dubois at your service, mademoiselle. I welcome you aboard Le Champion. And regarding what I want with you\u201d\u2014he raised one brow and allowed his gaze to scour over her\u2014\u201cI am to deliver you to Don Miguel De Salazar in Columbia.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cColumbia?\u201d Grace took a step back and gripped her throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cOui, he has promised to pay quite handsomely for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor me? But why? I don\u2019t even know the man.\u201d A shudder ran through her.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, but your father does apparently. The two men are not\u2026how do you say? Agreeable? Don Miguel holds him responsible for the death of his son in a skirmish with a galleon. He thought you would be adequate payment for the transgression.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPayment!\u201d Grace\u2019s fear gave way to anger. \u201cI am no one\u2019s payment. How can you take part in such a wicked scheme?\u201d<\/p>\n

The captain shrugged as if her words rolled off of him. \u201cLike I said, he\u2019s willing to pay handsomely.\u201d He offered her a devious grin then donned his hat and closed the door with a resounding thud.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

MY COMMENTS:<\/strong><\/p>\n

I didn’t make the cut to receive a review copy of this book; however I have read and enjoyed the previous novels of this series. I\u00a0 plan to pick up a copy of\u00a0 The Raven Saint as soon as I can. It is definitely on my “to read” list.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,34,41],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4208","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-historical","category-romance"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4208"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4208"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4208\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4214,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4208\/revisions\/4214"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4208"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4208"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4208"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}