The Temptation by Claudia Dain

From Barnes & Noble

The Barnes & Noble Review
Temptation wrestles with restraint throughout Claudia Dain's historical romance set in mid-12th-century England. Meet Elsbeth of Sunnandune, a young noblewoman who is determined to live a life of prayer in the convent. It seems to be the only alternative to dying in childbirth, like her mother and, later, her stepmother. When her father marries her off to the handsome and noble Hugh of Jerusalem, the cloister seems far away, unless she can avoid his touch -- but Hugh is equally determined to awake passion within his new bride. Fans of medieval romances will enjoy the war of wills that ensues between these two fiery characters. Ginger Curwen

From the Publisher

When a noblewoman bound for the convent is forced to marry a golden knight, she finds temptation in his briefest glance, his slightest touch.

Publishers Weekly

The spunky characterizations and sprightly pacing of Dain's previous novel, To Burn, are absent here, but Dain delivers on other fronts, offering protagonists who will pique readers' imaginations and an unconventional story line that plays out in 12th-century England. The first half of the novel moves like molasses as pious Elsbeth of Sunnandune, who longs for a quiet convent life, comes to terms with the fact that her calculating father has sold her in marriage to gorgeous and glib Hugh of Jerusalem. For his own purposes, Hugh is determined to make the marriage work, but Elsbeth is just as determined to prove that she's an unfit wife. Their battle of wills and words makes up the bulk of the novel and quickly grows tedious, but an element of intrigue spices up the final half, as do some tantalizing near-love scenes. The book's religious overtones may put off some readers and others will find themselves gnashing their teeth over Hugh's arrogance ("He had not yet met steel that he could not best, and so it was with the steely heart of his wife. Or would be"). However, Dain succeeds in capturing the atmosphere of the period and in creating protagonists whose fears, dreams and temperaments reflect the era. (Dec.) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Product Details

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The Temptation

Dorchester Publishing

All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-8439-5220-2

Chapter One

Elsbeth faced her father as she had practiced: composed,
resolved, serene. She was not the girl he had sent from him
those many years ago. Surely, he would see that. All could see
it. He could not be so different from all others, though he
was her father and he had always seemed most different to her.

She did not think that he much valued her. Still, he was her
father and God did not make mistakes about such things.
Perhaps he, too, had changed with the passage of years. With
God, all things, even to the nature of her father, were
possible.

They were in the hall, he upon his chair, she standing. Just
as it had been the day she left Warkham for Dornei. But not
the same, for she was not the same. She would show him she was
not the same.

All rested upon that.

The clerk continued reading the letter from Richard intended
for her father, the letter that would declare just how much
she had changed.

And so, it is my prayerful belief that Elsbeth, her mind
ever turned to heavenly things, is well-suited to the
convent life. Many upon many are the women God has created
to be wives and mothers, but only once in a great while does
God fashion a woman whose sole desire is for prayer and
divine communion.
The decision, as is right, is yours, LordGautier. I
am confident that, with God to guide you, you will choose
the life most precisely fitted for your daughter, Elsbeth.
In God,
Richard of Warefeld

Her father, Lord Gautier, only looked upon her and smiled. She
did not return his smile; she was striving for serenity.

"So," he said when the clerk had rolled up the missive, "Lord
Richard thinks you well-suited to nun's garb. You have no
liking for damask, daughter?"

"I have no disliking for it," she said. "It is only that I
would give my life to God, for His purposes and His will."

"So Richard says," he said. "Did you ask him to write on your
behalf?"

"Nay, I did not."

Let him know that all who knew her, knew the direction of her
thoughts and her desires. They were not of this world, but of
the next. Richard was only stating the obvious, if her father
would only allow himself to see it.

"It was his own idea then, to instruct me on how to run my
house and my affairs? A most direct man, he must be," Gautier
said, hiding his smile behind his hand.

"It is only that he cares for me," she said, defending Richard
from her father's censure. "Ah, and I do not?"

"I did not say that, nor did Lord Richard," she said. "Yet, he
has known me for three years now. He understands my hunger for
the cloister. He supports it."

Aye, she hungered for the cloister, for prayer and for
solitude, showing all the world that she did not hunger for a
husband. She was not fit to be a wife. She had no desire for
it and no inclination. Let her father only see that and the
vow to her mother was met.

"And why should he not? He is not going to lose an alliance
because his child turns from the marriage contract."

"There is a contract?"

"Aye, written and approved," he said, smiling down at her.

So, the contract was set, the man chosen. That answered all.
He was not going to turn. He was resolute, even in the face of
her perfected serenity. He was as stubborn as she remembered
him.

"Nay, Elsbeth," he said, smiling gently, "I can see, if you
cannot, that God has called you to walk a different path. Has
he not given you a healthy body and an equally healthy dowry?
Such signs cannot be overlooked. When you have given your
husband a few heirs to secure his place in the world, you can
seek the life of the cloister, if your husband will allow.
That will be between the two of you. But I do hope you will
remember to pray for my soul when all your hours are devoted
to prayer and matters eternal."

"I could pray all the sooner, if I went now," she said. There
was a desperate sound to her offer and in the timber of her
voice, she could hear it yet not stop it. He was casting away
all her hopes with a few smiling words.

Gautier laughed and slapped the carved arm of his chair in
delight. "I had forgotten how amusing you can be, Elsbeth," he
said and then all his smiles were done. "I have life in me
yet. Your prayers on my behalf can wait."

"Yet can any know the hour of our death? The Lord calls us
home when He wishes, His purposes His own. No prayer can wait
with such urgency riding upon our hearts."

"His purposes are His own, daughter, and they may stay His
own. My purpose for you is clear and, as your earthly lord,
you will do well to remember where your loyalty, and your
obedience, lies."

"I know my duty," she said, meeting his eyes. He was still a
handsome man, strong and dark. How that he had not aged or
changed when she was so transformed?

"I know you do," he said. "You were ever and always obedient,
though you struggled with it, did you not? If you are bound
for the cloister at your life's twilight, obedience will be
called for in good measure. Now is a good time to begin your
life of quiet obedience. You will obey me in this, Elsbeth."

He had won. She could find no way out if he would not allow
her to enter the cloister. She must marry. She was of an age.
She had a sizeable dowry. She was ready for the man who had
been chosen for her.

Or at least, her father thought her ready. That was all that
mattered in any regard. What she thought, what she wanted, was
not part of any agreement she would be called upon to make.
Her vow to her mother to remain unmarried and celibate was
shattered in that moment at her father's word and whim. What
chance had she to make good on that vow with her father
standing between her and any decision she might make?

The Lord God had not made a woman's load a light one. If only
Eve had not taken the forbidden fruit. All would have been
well if not for her.

But now the door was opened and opened hard upon Sunnandune
and she could not find the heart to regret it. Sunnandune was
hers upon the moment of her marriage or upon Epiphany of her
sixteenth year. That momentous Epiphany, the one which she had
waited for all her life, was nigh. Yet marriage and the
freedom to fly to Sunnandune was closer yet.

Her mother had arranged it so, upon the counsel of her father
in their early, joyous days together. Her mother had come to
regret her choice for it had been Elsbeth who had been made to
live with it, yet all that was past now. Now, she was on the
cusp of marriage and with marriage came freedom of a sort.
Now, she could have Sunnandune, taking it and herself away
from her father's control. There was a sweet victory in that
and she savored it as softly as she could before her father's
very eyes.

If only she did not have to manage a husband she did not want
as part of the bargain. That was a puzzle she had to find a
way to manage. She would not be married. Be it better said,
she would marry if the convent was closed to her, but she
would not stay married. And she would remain celibate,
untouched and unviolated.

'Twas a maze and yet she knew she would find a way out,
finding freedom from all men in her victory. Was God not her
champion? How then could she fail?

Lifting her chin and concentrating on maintaining her
serenity, she asked, "When is he come?"

"He is come now, daughter, and is here. You might put on a
pleasing face for him, now that he has heard you plead for
release from this match. He should have a cheerful bride
facing him for he is come far to find you. Turn and behold the
man I have found for you."

He was here? He had stood in the hall and heard her beg her
father to allow her to enter the cloister rather than be
married to him? This was not a pleasing start to any marriage.
And it was just like her father to have him in the room when
she first came before him after years of separation. He had
likely hoped for just such a display from her. Such small acts
of struggling rebellion amused him well.

She turned and looked about her. The hall was not empty. Many
of the faces she knew from her childhood, yet some of the
knights were new to her. Death and disease had taken some off
in the ten years she had been away from Warkham and new blood,
new faces had risen to take their place. Yet who would her
father have chosen?

Not the short, dark one with the hair growing out of his ears.
He would not have done that to her, no matter his humor.
Though Gautier did enjoy his jests. He would be capable of it,
just to charm a laugh every time he thought of them together.
She must have been half the man's age, yet there was nothing
unusual even to that.

She looked at her father, a sidelong glance that had more open
fear in it than was wise. He laughed loudly when he saw where
her gaze had landed and anchored. He shook his head and
gestured outward, encouraging her to look again.

There were too many men in the hall. She felt like a wife
looking over the latest catch of fish, sniffing and pinching
to find the freshest for her family. 'Twas shameful. 'Twas
just like her father to force her to such an act.

One man stepped forward out of the shadows that hung like
curtains over the corners of the hall. He was tall, golden
like sea sand, and young. He stepped forward and kept coming,
his eyes light in the dim shadows of the hall, his skin
glowing with health and sunlight, his stride long and full of
quiet purpose.

He was beautiful, in the way of a man. Strong, hard with
purpose, sure of his place in the world. Certain of his worth.
Safe in his beauty.

Her father did not have such grace in him as to give her a man
of such beauty, nor such generosity of spirit.

"You have spoiled my play, Hugh," her father said. "I rarely
have such amusements, but if you will claim your betrothed,
then I will not gainsay you."

His betrothed? Elsbeth turned to her father in amazement, her
eyes unblinking. This was the man she was to be given to? This
man with the face of a saint?

"Meet your betrothed, Elsbeth," Gautier said into the silence
that had laid hold of her heart. "Meet Hugh of Jerusalem."

Hugh of Jerusalem. Who had not heard the tales of him? This
man before her eyes was squire Ulrich's most favored topic, if
William le Brouillard and Rowland the Dark were discounted. He
was ever close to the side of the very King of Jerusalem,
Baldwin III. A man, a Christian knight, born in the very city
of God. Could a man be any but holy with such a birthplace and
such a calling? It was a match to make a maid's heart sing for
joy, if the maid knew the tune to call a husband to her side.

She did not. She had no voice to sing for any husband; there
was no such melody in her and she had no will to learn. She
knew only how to pray and in her praying, to plead for release
from the married state and from the grip of her father.

And Hugh, not God, had heard her. He had heard her plead for
an escape from this very marriage.

Nay, not plead, only tender a reason most reasonable as to why
she should be free of betrothals. And that spoken before she
knew the name of her betrothed. Or his look.

She faced him, this man who would be hers, and met his gaze.
He studied her as she studied him and she saw no condemnation
in his eyes. She was no beauty, that was certain. She could
not hope to match him in that. His look was solemn, not amused
and yet not angry. She thanked him for that in her heart, that
he should not take offense or unkind pleasure in the role her
father had thrust her into. She was no prophet who could look
about a hall and discern her husband at a glance. Nay, not
even by the tumbled beating of her heart.

Her heart tumbled now. He was so very beautiful.

His hair was blond, golden from the sun for the roots were
darker, an almost brown. His eyes were the green of pine
boughs in the sunlight, glistening and bright. He was tall, as
she had known he must be from the tales of him, his tunic the
white linen of the Levant, the emblem of the holy cross sewn
near the region of his heart.

He was beauty and righteous holiness; twin temptations to
which she must not submit, the very temptations to call the
most loudly to her heart. Her father had known it would be so.
He knew her. He knew what would appeal to her, his daughter of
no beauty and striving holiness. This man was all she could
ever want. Her father must have known that well. This husband,
this betrothed, would require a new kind of strength, a new
type of serenity to keep him in his place. To keep herself
intact.

For a moment, looking at him, the torchlight picking out the
shining strands of his golden hair and the clean lines of his
features, she wondered if she could do it. And then the moment
passed and she knew she could. He was but a man, after all.

She could not fail and would not. She faced Hugh of Jerusalem
with her resolve in firm possession of her heart. She would
not fall to a lovely face and form. She would not. She had
more strength in her than that, and more faith.

"My daughter, Elsbeth," Gautier said, introducing them,
finally. "She will not disappoint you, I think," he said to
Hugh.

"Nay, I cannot think that she would," Hugh said. His voice was
low and soft, like the wind in the trees after a rain.
"Greetings, lady," he said.

"My lord," she said, lowering her eyes to the floor in a
calculated display of feminine modesty. Even his boots were
beautiful.

"Your daughter does not need time to adjust herself to this
new-found marriage you have contracted for her?" Hugh asked
her father.

"Nay, my daughter is adept at obedience, as all daughters
should be," Gautier said.

Elsbeth raised her eyes and looked at her father. Yea, she
heard his warning. She must be obedient if she ever was to
find her way to the cloister. And Hugh of Jerusalem was now
the door through which she must pass to reach it; he, as her
husband, would either allow or disallow it. Her task, passed
from father to betrothed, was before her.

Hugh must allow her to find her way to sanctuary, the
sanctuary of a world of women, their hearts and minds, their
very bodies, given to God. If he found her unfit to be a wife,
her hours devoted to prayer, her every thought and word given
to God, he would release her. His repudiation of her was her
dearest prayer. She would rather be free to live in peace at
Sunnandune than in the cloister, but either would serve. She
only wanted to be free of him.

What man wanted a nun for a wife? What man wanted a wife he
could not possess? How she would escape his possession, his
invasion into her body, she did not yet know. Yet she did know
God and He was able to keep her safe. Somehow, she would be
safe.

It was the perfect escape from a marriage she did not want and
would not tolerate.

"Then I follow your word, my lord," Hugh said, turning away
from her completely to face Gautier, "for you know the heart
of my betrothed better than I. I would cause her no dismay."

"You will not, but ask her yourself, if it please you,"
Gautier said.

Hugh took her hand in his and she let him. She was obedient to
his will, showing them all the perfection of her submission,
trying even now to find her way to the place where no man
could find her.

"Show me your eyes, Elsbeth, for I would read your heart in
them," Hugh said.

Her first act of obedience and she felt the struggle within
herself to perform it. He was too beautiful and the temptation
to fall into him would be too great. Yet God was greater
still.

She obeyed.

"Our path is marked for us, lady," he said, "but I would not
have you stumble upon it, not being ready for the journey
every marriage surely is. Would you wait, Lady Elsbeth, or
will you trust that my arm is strong enough to sustain you,
even as my heart yearns to fulfill our pledge? I stand upon
your will, knowing that the God we both serve will guide you."

Perfect. Had any knight ever shown such well-balanced blending
of courtesy, chivalry, and holy ardor? Nay, not even Ulrich in
all his impassioned wooing had spoken so skillfully.

Yet she would not let a perfect speech from a flawless face
move her, at least not overmuch. She must persuade him to
relinquish her; she would be no man's wife. But he could not
relinquish what he did not hold and so her answer was clear.
As clear as it was that her father would never let her remain
unwed. If she could manage for Hugh to repudiate her, then
Sunnandune would still be hers. If she could manage to
convince Hugh that she was better suited to the cloister, then
he would release her into it. Either way, she was free of the
control of men. Either path led to freedom. Either path led
away from her father.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Temptation
by Claudia Dain
Copyright © 2003 by Claudia Dain.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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