About the Author
Elaine Cantrell was born and raised in South Carolina where she obtained a master’s degree in personnel services from Clemson University. She is a member of Alpha Delta Kappa, an international honorary society for women educators, Romance Writers of America, and EPIC authors. Her first novel, A New Leaf, was the 2003 winner of the Timeless Love Contest. When she’s not writing or teaching, she enjoys movies, quilting, reading, and collecting vintage Christmas ornaments.
Her latest book is the fantasy romance, The Enchanted.
Visit her website at www.elainecantrell.com.
The sound of a trumpet interrupted Alan. Meryn entered the room behind the trumpeters and called in a ringing voice, “His majesty, King Maccus, and his daughter, the Princess Morgane, wife of Prince Alan, heir to the throne of his father, King Bowdyn.”
Everyone at the table rose to their feet and bowed as Maccus and Morgane paused at the door. Alan could not stop staring at the princess. He had not expected her to be so beautiful. Her red‑gold hair cascaded across her shoulders in swirling waves he ached to touch. Even from this distance he could see that her eyes were the color of the sea on a cloudy, stormy day. Her white, beribboned gown made their unique color stand out. She had a willowy, lithe figure.
Every inch the king, Bowdyn crossed the room and took Princess Morgane’s hand. “Come. I will introduce you to your husband, Prince Alan.”
She did not limp, but she stepped very quickly as if she did not want her feet to touch the floor any longer than necessary. Still, she held her head up high as she made her way across the hall, her heavy, stiff skirts rustling on the stone floor.
ʺMy son, this is your wife, Princess Morgane. Morgane, this is your husband, Prince Alan.”
Bowdyn placed Morgane’s hand into Alan’s. Her fingers were icy cold. He bowed to her and kissed her hand. “It is my honor to meet you. Will you be seated beside me?”
Morgane seated herself beside him as he held out her chair. Her skin looked as smooth as satin and as creamy as the finest milk, but no one could miss the horrible red scar that marred her face. She turned her head and caught him staring. Her face flushed red, causing the scar to look that much worse. Turning away from him, she fastened her eyes on the wall in front of her.
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