Rage darkened Miguel’s green eyes. His blood was boiling. Bible in one hand, sword in the other, breathing heavily, determined not to let his Spanish Armada be sunk the second time.
Ha! And by whom? By a Frenchman?!
Wasn’t Jacques supposed to spend his entire life alluring the other sex?
Oh, how wrong all of us were to judge Jacques like that!
And how dearly we were to pay for that juvenile judgement of ours.
Steely blue eyes, coat of arms engraved on his shield, Jacques was fighting to conquer only one heart: the heart of the woman who Miguel loved.
Both of them reduced me to a war trophy.
In the old, beautifully tiled hacienda, darkness broke loose.
Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers
image: ELORDUY; Shuttershock; [link]