Rue Allyn | Updates

Beyond Secrets

Rue Allyn — Mon, 26 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Our special guest today is Author, Caroline Warfield, here to tell us about her book, Tatterd Honor and a little bit more.

Travel is one of my great joys, and often the source of ideas. I once sat at an outdoor cafe in Rome, surrounded by ancient stone buildings glowing with late afternoon sunshine, at peace with the world. A thought occurred to me, “Could I set a Regency novel in Rome?” The answer was, of course, yes and I was off and running. It was my first travel engendered story, but it wouldn’t be the last.

The first part was easy, all roads lead to Rome. It was a major destination on the Grand Tour. Byron visited. Keats lived there in an apartment off the Spanish Steps and died their in 1821. But I had questions to answer.

The French were gone but who ruled there? The pope did! Rome was the center of the papal states and by 1820 Pius VII had returned there after being kidnapped and forced to officiate at Napoleon’s coronation. Interesting character Pius VII. I had to give him a cameo. The papal courts play a prominent role, too.

But did England have diplomatic relations with them? The answer turned out to be no, mostly over religious conflict. England handled its relations with the Holy See through the Hanoverian embassy. I created an English official to work out of there.

What was going on in what is now Italy at that point? It was of course divided into small kingdoms. Some of them were experiencing unrest, particularly the Kingdom of Naples. People may have been happy to see the back of the Bonapartes, but they wanted to keep the Napoleonic Code, constitutional government and rule of law. Elsewhere, the Kingdom of Sardinia was relatively quiet, but the powers that be—in that case members of the House of Savoy—were uneasy and watchful.

Out of this stew I created a small girl with an English father and a mother from the House of Savoy. I also created a great uncle who did not approve of the marriage and approved even less of her very English aunt (my heroine) determined to retain guardianship left to her in the father’s will. The conflict is spiced by traitors in the Savoy household in Rome.

My hero? A down on his luck English major who takes a job as an interpreter in order to eat and is drawn into the mess.

I was surprised during that trip to discover that Bonnie Prince Charlie is buried in Saint Peter’s Basilica. A much more unexpected discovery was that the House of Savoy was the heir to the Jacobite line of succession, through James I’s daughter Eleanor, after Charlie and his brother Henry died childless. Savoy never made claims on the succession, but in 1820, only seventy-five years after Culloden, it seemed plausible that the English would keep an eye on them.

Oh the tangled web of history and how fun to wind it into a story.

The result was originally entitled Dangerous Secrets. It has been out of print and unavailable in ebook form for quite a while. I am currently editing it thoroughly again and enlarging it with an all new epilogue. A new edition will be published as Tattered Honor in July, 2026 as Book 4 of a series called Honor at Heart. Books 1 and 2 will be out in March.

About Tattered Honor

About the Author

Award winning author, Caroline Warfield, grew up in a peripatetic army family, and the need to travel never left her. After a varied career (largely around libraries and technology) she retired to the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania to be closer to family and to write. She remains a traveler and adventurer, enamored of owls, books, history, and beautiful gardens (but not the act of gardening). She writes family centered, emotionally rich, sensual stories set in the Regency and Victorian periods.

Website http://www.carolinewarfield.com/

Amazon Author http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/

Good Reads http://bit.ly/1C5blTm

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/groups/WarfieldFellowTravelers

Newsletter: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/newsletter/

BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/caroline-warfield

You Tube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCycyfKdNnZlueqo8MlgWyWQ

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/carowarfield.bsky.social

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe, Episode Twelve: What have I done?

Rue Allyn — Mon, 19 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

You may recall that in Episode 11, Watley the squire has approached a solitary woman with an offer of friendly conversation. His true motive is to gain a kiss and win a wager from the knight he serves. He discovers that the woman is Welsh and suspects she is more than she might appear to be. The woman, a woman with royal Welsh heritage is returning south. She sought aid from her mother’s Scots relatives Clan Comyn to avoid a marriage arranged by her cousin Lewellyn Glyndwr, Prince of Wales. Laired Comyn refused. She now feels betrayed by all her family and is trying to decide what course to take.

Location—A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

July 1276, The Unseasonable Rain has stopped, but the fog remains and the night is very chill.

“Really? What do you offer in exchange for this warmth of the spirit you claim to seek?” Gwen studied the Englishman, as she sipped the ale he’d placed before her. Perhaps he told the truth and wished nothing more that conversation. However, she had learned painful lessons in the past two years about trusting men—both strangers and not.

He toyed with his mug for a moment.

She admired a person who took care to consider his words before he spoke.

“You know I am a squire, so you must know I have knightly aspirations. Hence, I offer nothing more than my master or any chivalrous knight would offer.

“Ah,” She set her mug down. “You offer me protection, Courtesy, Admiration and Honor. However, you are no knight. How can I be certain you mean what you say?”

He looked across the room to where his master sat alone. “Regard you, my master.”

She followed the squire’s gaze. The knight was impressive . Long shaggy midnight locks framed a chiseled face. Black-lashed lids drooped over dark eyes. The tavern light was dim, and she could not discern the color. However, she could not mistake the resolute shoulders, the broad chest, arms that stretched the sleeves of his tunic. She suspected his lower half would be just as enjoyable to view.

She shrugged and addressed her mug. “So, he is fit as a knight should be who knows his business.”

“Precisely,” said the squire. “He knows his business very well. His liege lord holds him highest amongst that lord’s knights.”

“That would be Edward of England,” Gwen remarked.

“I…should not confirm that.”

Hmm, the squire displayed some discretion. He managed to brag about his master without confirming his identity. For an Englishman this close to the Scots border, ‘twas no doubt wise.

“So, your master is chivalrous. Will he support your championing of a lone Welshwoman, of whom you and he know nothing?”

“Chivalry demands it. However.” The squire paused to sip his ale. “We should ask him.”

The squire stood, went to the knight who rose, and bringing his ale with him, returned to Gwen’s table.

“Good even, lady.” He looked at the squire and issued a single nod.

“Lady…?”

“Lady Gwenllian Glyndwr,” she offered.

“May I make you known to Sir Haven De Sessions.”

“Sir Haven, Lady Gwenllian Glyndwr.”

Gwen blinked, covered her lips with her fingertips, and stood. “Everyone has heard of Sir De Sessions. You are first amongst the hounds of Edward of England,” she whispered.

He smiled and bowed his head. “Indeed, I have the privilege of serving with my king’s most trusted knights. Thank you for keeping your voice low. The task King Edward has given me is better achieved anonymously.”

“Then why…?”

“My squire, Watley, has informed me that you are in need of courteous protection. My oath of knighthood demands I give it. Thus, I give you my name as well, so that you may be certain I can be trusted.”

“You are right, of course.”

“In what way can Watley and I best serve you, my lady?”

“Ah…please.” She swept a hand toward the table. “Let us sit and quietly discuss the matter.”

If anyone could be trusted to aid her, Sir Haven De Sessions exemplified that person. What were he and his squire doing at this tavern on the border of the ‘Batable lands? He’d promised protection, but he’d not said what sort of protection. Might he decide to return her to her uncle, or perhaps take her hostage for his own king? What have I done?

Note to my readers, Sir Haven De Sessions is the hero of A True & Perfect Knight. While his story takes place after the events here, if you'd like a bit more about Haven and his squire Watley, you can pick up a copy at Amazon or Books2Read.

Check out the True & Perfect Knight blurb:

He'd rather die than marry her. She's his best friend's widow and a traitor to England.

She'd rather die than marry him. It's his fault that she is homeless, powerless, and might literally lose her head.

Now the king wants them married and living in Wales to help quell the rebellion there. Edward 1 is a very smart king, but a marriage based on betrayal and distrust can't possibly bring peace to a conquered territory. It's more likely to get them both killed.

Can these two enemies overcome stubborn hatred, and a nation full of problems to earn a lifetime of love, or will their mutual antipathy and unseen enemies cause their death?

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Is It True: Irene’s Fall by Elizabeth Donne

Rue Allyn — Thu, 15 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Welcome to The Book and Beyond. I'm Rue Allyn, author and owner of this blog. Our guest today is, brand new Bluestocking Belle, Elizabeth Donne and she’s going to play a game of Is It True with us. This is a game with yes and no questions. Writers can elaborate on answers as much as they choose.

Irene’s Fall by Elizabeth Donne

Pride comes before her fall. Love helps her stand again.

Irene Sangford has willingly cast herself as the villain of her own story. After all, her family has taught her that arrogance and manipulation are suitable qualities in a lady if she’s seeking a husband with a title. Especially when there are so few such men to be had, and she is competing with her own sister to snap one of them up.

Nathaniel Macrae not only has no title, he has immersed himself in low society in his role as a secret investigator. Miss Sangford would never have given him a second glance, but when an attempted murder leads his inquiries right to her door, and a shocking secret from her past threatens to unravel her entire life, Irene discovers that Mr. Macrae is more compelling than any man she has ever met.

As Irene’s world falls apart, and she questions everything she has ever known, Nathaniel becomes her anchor in life’s greatest storm. Except this storm threatens to destroy them both. They will have to challenge everything they know and trust each other if they are to survive and find the love that has eluded them.

Genre: Regency romance and mystery

Book heat level (based on movie ratings): PG 13

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G1VMJKS9

Is it true?

This is your first book?

No. It is my first series, though. This is actually the 5th and final book in the series.

This book is part of a series?

Yes

You lost sleep while writing this book?

No. Quite the opposite. It’s been the most fun I’ve had writing a book thus far. I loved the characters, the multitude of villains, the plentiful action, and the redemption of the heroine.

You did research for this book?

Yes. Always. No matter how well I prepare before I start writing, there are always a few niggly issues I need to clarify as I go along.

Some characters in this book are not human? (pets for example)

Yes. The horses are important characters, especially in the first two chapters.

This book has more than one genre?

Yes. Romance and mystery.

You speak more than one language?

Yes. I am fluent in Afrikaans, can understand Dutch if it is spoken slowly, and know just enough German to get myself in trouble!

You grew up where you live now?

No. I grew up in Cape Town, South Africa. However, I have lived in the American Midwest for the past 11 years.

You love to read?

Yes. But it’s so hard to find the time to read for enjoyment. So much of my reading is research, although I do enjoy it very much.

You are never late?

Not with deadlines. Never more than ten minutes late for life events, and I make an effort not to be late at all.

You love pizza?

No. I only eat thin-based pizza with specific toppings. I have to be very hungry to consider pizza an option at all.

You love sushi?

I have never tried it, but one day I will.

You have a pet?

Two. A cat named Lola who came with us from South Africa. And a dog (black lab and terrier mix) named Charlie whom we adopted in America.

Elizabeth Donne’s Social Media

Elizabeth Donne’s writing is a natural outpouring of a lifelong love affair with English literature. Although she has spent most of her life in Cape Town, South Africa, she now lives in the American Midwest, where she enthusiastically introduces her visitors to the joys of drinking rooibos tea. With a biscuit, of course.

Website https://www.elizabethdonnebooks.com

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093280712789

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/elizabethdonnebooks?igsh=dW4wdmt6Y2g1d2xx

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/35270040.Elizabeth_Donne

BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/elizabeth-donne

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethdonne

Get to know Elizabeth Donne better by signing up for an email newsletter https://www.elizabethdonnebooks.com/#subscribe

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Is It True: Miss Harrow and the Tenacious Duke by Aileen Fish

Rue Allyn — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Welcome to The Book and Beyond. I'm Rue Allyn, author and owner of this blog. Our guest today is, brand new Bluestocking Belle, Aileen Fish, and she’s going to play a game of Is It True with us. This is a game with yes and no questions. Writers can elaborate on answers as much as they choose.

Miss Harrow and the Tenacious Duke

A cold-hearted duke. A pragmatic miss. Who will be the first to surrender in Aileen Fish’s sweet Regency?
Genre Regency
Book heat level (based on movie ratings): G
Buy link https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GF94SLKS

Is it true:

This is your first book?
No.
This book is part of a series?
Yes.
You lost sleep while writing this book?
Always!
You did research for this book?
Yes
Some characters in this book are not human? (pets for example)
No
This book has more than one genre?
No
You speak more than one language?
Not understandably, lol!
You grew up where you live now?
About 100 miles away.
You love to read?
YES!
You are never late?
I wish!
You love pizza?
With pineapple, please.
You love sushi?
Most.
You have a pet?
No.

Aileen Fish Social Media
Website https://aileenfish.com
Twitter https://x.com/AileenFish
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/AileenFishAuthor
Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/aileenfish/
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/aileenf17/
Goodreads https://www.goodread s.com/author/show/5068121.Aileen_Fish
BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/profile/aileen-fish
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/stores/Aileen-Fish/author/B005EEER4M
Get to know Aileen Fish better by signing up for an email newsletter https://aileenfish.com/subscribe/

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The Book, Cursed: A Corsair’s Tale and Beyond

Rue Allyn — Mon, 12 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve never written a book like Cursed. Part Romantasy, part time-travel, part ghost story, part Regency Era pirate romance. I had nearly as much trouble categorizing Cursed as I had fun writing it.

About Cursed: A Corsair’s Tale--He’s been cursed to remain a specter until he earns the love of a heartless woman. Is she the one?

Privateer or pirate? Lucien Flynn never makes promises to any woman. Then a scorned lover curses him to live the life of a specter.’ Decades pass, and Luc abandons hope. When he meets a woman he cannot resist, a woman with too much heart, he knows he may never be set free. Can he avoid loving her, or will he give her his heart and be cursed forever?

Grace Thibodaux is a woman driven to escape her own demons. Hurt beyond hope of healing, she protects her tender heart, refusing to allow anyone, man or woman, close. However, she can’t escape the man who haunts her dreams and her life. Is he as cursed as he claims, or is she simply falling for another, heart-breaking rogue?

Find out which is stronger curses or love? Order your copy of Cursed today.

Available for pre-order now for the sale price of $2.99 at

Amazon--https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G54FPMRY

Books2Read--https://books2read.com/u/bwpVMO

Price increases on Launch Day, March 16, 2026. Paperback edition available now.

Beyond, Cursed: A Corsair’s Tale

I researched many unusual (to me) subjects while writing Cursed. Among those was what was considered ‘common knowledge about specters, phantasms, and other types of incorporeal beings. I ventured down the research rabbit hole of reincarnation. I confirmed what I had already learned (from research for other novels) about New Orleans culture in 1814/15, the battle of New Orleans, Andrew Jackson, Jean LaFitte, pirates vs privateers, the geography of the mouth of the Mississippi River. I added new information from the early 20th century including telephone usage, moon phases, Louisiana weather patterns, and Boston newspapers. Probably the most interesting and obscure piece of research involved early roller coasters.

Let me explain. My heroine who is a child of the late 19th century returns to her childhood home in Louisiana in 1912. My hero, as the blurb suggests has been idling away decades as a specter. Tied by his curse to the area near the heroine’s home. As their relationship progresses, they talk and share confidences. In one scene, shortly after she learns bout his curse they have this conversation about the future in which Grace mentions a roller coaster and Luc, because of his limited exposure to American culture in 1912 doesn’t understand:

“You’re not frightened now?” Luc asked.

Grace wouldn’t confess to loving him enough that she feared losing him. Not yet. “Not in the same way. What I feel is more like anticipation, like the thrill of riding The Giant Dip at Riverside Park.”

Luc squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them. “I beg your pardon. What is a ‘giant dip,’ and where is this park?”

Grace covered her mouth and laughed. “It’s hard to remember sometimes that your experience of life in this day and age is limited.”

“I’m sorry if I disappoint you.” He sniffed, before leaning back against the bedpost once more.

Grace inhaled deeply. Whatever had him so tense earlier was gone.

“Oh, I mean no offense and I apologize. You don’t disappoint me.” She blew him a kiss. “You couldn’t.”

“Nice to know, thank you,” he said, his tone wry. “But this ‘dip’ thing is…?”

“Some people call them Russian Mountains, because they imitate the ice slides found in that country. Most people call them roller coasters, because the cars or carriages people ride coast on wheels down a raised wooden track. As for Riverside Park, it has had a number of names over the years, but that’s what it was called while I was growing up. The Park is located in Agawam, Massachusetts, near Springfield.”

“Did you go there often and ride this Giant Dip?” He inclined his head.

Researching history for novels can lead to some very strange places, indeed. 😊

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Tales of the PIg & Pipe Episode 11: Courting Trouble

Rue Allyn — Sun, 4 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Location—A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

July 1276, Unseasonable Rain & Fog

Ale mug in hand, Watley studied the scowling woman as he approached.

Watley requested a second mug of ale for himself, and studied the scowling woman from whom he must gain a kiss.

She appeared unhappy and angry. Her clothing was made of rich materials but showed excessive wear. He also saw no indication of any companion or escort. Were she noble, she would have both. Obviously, she was a common woman, but of what sort?

Assuredly not a serf. They did not travel. If she were a serf she would be local and most likely could not afford to buy ale in a tavern. Even one as obscure as the Pig & Pipe.

She might be a tradeswoman, and alewife perhaps. Such a female might travel on her own, though safety concerns made that less than likely. In addition, the condition of the clothing did not fit with a woman inclined to any industry.

Not a woman of the gentry, certainly. Women of that stamp would not travel alone. If not accompanying a husband or other male relative, a goodwife would travel with a caravan of some sort. Yet, the wear and tear evident in her attire fit with a woman of less than gentle birth. The cut and material of the dress and the cloak, thrown over a nearby chair, would belong only to a noblewoman.

Most likely, she’d once been leman to a nobleman or rich merchant protector who for whatever reason no longer offered his patronage.

Watley nodded to himself. Then ale mugs in hand, he set off in her direction. Yes, a fallen woman fallen on harder times fit the evidence of his eyes. However, if he’d learned one thing from his few years as Sir Haven de Sessions’ squire it was to not trust appearances. Best not assume too much.

“Good even, Mistress,” he addressed her politely, when he at last stood beside her chair. “The serving wench asked me to bring this to you.”

The ebon-haired woman took in his appearance with a short glance then raised a brow. “Why would she do that? Surely she would not trust a stranger to collect the coin needed to pay for the ale?”

“Perhaps I am not a stranger,” he smiled.

“Heh,” she scoffed. “Your speech is that of a southern Englishman, and you are squire to yon knight, who is failing to appear inconspicuous in such an obscure place as this tavern and village.” She gestured toward the table where Sir de Sessions now spoke with the serving maid.

Watley issued a small sigh. “You are very observant. My master and I have been long on our travels and I would seek gentler company for a time. May I sit with you?”

She shrugged. “I’ll still not pay you for the ale.”

He placed an ale mug in front of her then sat opposite. “You need not bother. The ale is paid for.”

Both brows rose. “What do you expect in return for your largess?” she sneered.

“Naught but a few moments conversation with an intriguing woman.”

And perhaps a short walk in the moonlight now that the rain is stopping.

He’d approach that request later. At present he must soothe the woman into believing he offered no threat.

“You insult my intelligence.”

“’Tis an insult to bring a fellow traveler ale and friendliness?”

“I am not stupid. You bring me ale, think me intriguing, and praise my ability to observe? Young man, you want something more than conversation.” She gulped some ale. Lowering her mug, she gripped it with both hands.

“Ah, ‘tis a sad circumstance when innocent actions are taken with such suspicion.”

“Sad? Perhaps, but true nonetheless. What is it you want of me?”

Deciding they had parried enough he pursued a different topic. “What is a Welshwoman doing in the tavern of an English border village?” He sipped at his ale.

Her smile did not reach her eyes. “The same as you, I expect. Taking shelter from the rain and a warm spot by the fire for a night.”

Had Watley been at court he would know the reference to a night of warmth for the invitation to couple that was meant to be. However, they were far from court, and he was beginning to revise his estimate of the Welshwoman. She was indeed, fallen on hard times in some way. However, she spoke like a noble woman and was wise or experience enough to understand the predatory nature of men in regard to the fairer sex.

“All God’s creatures seek warmth and shelter. Can we not converse and pursue warmth of spirit as well as physical warmth?”

She barked a laugh. “You’re a persistent churl. Fine, let us converse, but know you I’ll yield nothing more than conversation. To be clear. I’ll not sin with you, sir squire, nor with any other person.”

He frowned in mock-disappointment. “I am no churl and would offer no such insult as to assault your person.”

“Really? What do you offer in exchange for this warmth of the spirit you claim to seek?”

Her eyes gleamed and she raised her mug too late to hide a satisfied smile.

Watley had wondered earlier if he was courting trouble. Now he was certain. The woman was trouble personified. Was winning a wager worth the risk of attempting to gain a kiss from her?

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Beyond My WIP--Character Origins

Rue Allyn — Mon, 22 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Today, I'm working on the last book in my MacKai Brides series--working title, The Enchantment of Fionn MacKai. This work in progress is about Lady Artis MacKai and her best friend, Sir Fionn MacKai.

These two first met in my holiday short story, An Angel's Promise. Eight-year-old Artis braves a blizzard to fulfill a promise made by her mother who was murdered before keeping said promise. Fionn, not much older than Artis, braved the blizzard to escape from the abuse of his father--who for reasons I won't go into always called his son 'Naff', the Scots Gaelic word for Rubbish. When Artis learned this, she told Naff that was silly and gave him the name Fionnlagh.

The pair sheltered together against the storm and nearly died. Of course, at the last moment they are rescued by her brother Raeb, Baron MacKai who takes Fionn into clan MacKai and raises him like a brother.

I loved writing An Angel's Promise and missed these two characters greatly. However, I knew Artis and Fionn's story would be the last in the MacKai Brides series. Between that series and other writing commitments, I've been unable to make much progress on their story until now.

So, while you wait for me to finish MacKai Brides Book Six, take the time to enjoy the prequel story, An Angel's Promise. Use the code SEY50 at Smashwords.com to get 50%* off the usual price of An Angel's Promise.

*Sale price is only available until Dec. 31, 2026

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The Book & Beyond with Rue Allyn

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Please welcome Rue Allyn who is here to talk with us about and beyond her book,

Cursed: A Corsair's Tale. Cursed to an eternal and ephemeral existence, by a scorned lover, Captain Lucien Flynn, hero of Rue Allyn's Cursed: A Corsair's Tale, must earn the love of a heartless woman in order to break the curse. However, the woman he finally falls for is anything but heartless?

Hi all, I'm Rue Allyn, author and owner of this blog as well as our first guest. Happy to be here! Allow me to tell you a little bit about Cursed.

Cursed: A Corsair's Tale by Rue Allyn

Genre A Paranormal/Romantasy Pirate Romance

Book heat level (R):

Privateer or pirate? Lucien Flynn never makes promises to any woman. When a scorned lover curses him to live the life of a specter until he ‘earns the love of a heartless woman.’ Decades pass, and Luc abandons hope. Then he meets a woman he cannot resist, a woman with too much heart. Can he avoid giving her his heart, or will he love her and be cursed forever?

Beyond the Book, Interview with Rue Allyn

What's your favorite down-home family style meal?

Tuna Casarole made with Egg noodles, Mushroom soup, loaded with cheese and crumbled potatoe chips on top.

Who is your "book boyfriend" (that hottie you read about and drool over)?

I have so many, but right now, Lucien Flynn of course.

Describe the perfect vacation.

A cruise to just about anywhere in the world. I do tend to prefer warmer climates.

What kinds of things do you read when you're researching a new book?

Just about any source I can get my hands on. Primary sources are best, but mostly I use secondary sources like books and articles. I do use Wikipedia, but verify any information I use with other sources.

If the hero of your latest book called you on the phone, what would be a perfect ringtone for him?

Lonely Boy by Paul Anka. https://www.streetdirectory.com/lyricadvisor/song/eeplje/lonely_boy/

Where to buy Cursed: A Corsair's Tale

Amazon

Books2Read

About Rue Allyn

Award winning romance author, Rue Allyn has a lifelong passion for happy ever after. She lives south of the border with her husband of more than forty years and their cat, Tanto. She has two sons and is a proud veteran of the US Navy. She writes heart melting romance in all sub-genres, but her favorite is historical romance, especially medieval. Subscribe to Rue’s News where you may learn more about Rue and receive a FREE download. https://rueallyn.com/mailing-list

Hi, I’m Rue Allyn, and mostly I’m about writing stories, books about heart melting romance. Books about characters and adventures in which love triumphs at the darkest moment. The kind of

suspenseful
hopeful
cathartic
romance
that melts a reader’s heart.

Find Rue Online at:
Website--https://RueAllyn.com

Blog--https://rueallyn.com/blog
Facebook--https://www.facebook.com/groups/rueallyndaringdamsels
BookBub--https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rue-allyn
Amazon Author Page--https://www.amazon.com/stores/Rue-Allyn/author/B00AUBF3NI
Get to know Rue Allyn better by signing up for an email newsletter

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 10: Trust Someone, but Who?

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: July 1276, Unseasonable Rain & Fog

Haven watched the innkeeper move about the room. The man was entirely to sharp-eyed for Haven to be able to trust Alwin as a source of intelligence. However, there were plenty of other possibilities among the customers. Most of the locals were laughing and enjoying a bit of time away from their troubles. A few other travelers, kept carefully to themselves. Back in a far corner a solitary woman sat frowning into a mug. An unhappy man or woman was often fertile ground for persuading him or her to a specific cause.

She was pretty enough--slim, with just enough curves to indicate her femininity, Her dusky skin suggested she spent much time outside. Night dark hair framed her oval face. Equally dark eyes sat widely spaced on either side of a slightly crooked nose over the frowning deep red lips.

"What think you of that woman in the corner, Watley. She's comely, though I think a smile would make her more attractive."

"Indeed," De Sessions agreed. "I have five silver pennies that say you cannot charm her into a smile,"

Watley perked up. "I've a need for more than five pence."

"What for?"

"My leather bracers are frayed beyond repair. I'd like to replace them with a well made metal pair."

"That could easily cost you a pound or more depending on the quality of the work and the metal."

"Aye.Would you care to wager an entire pound on my ability to coax a smile from yon unhappy maid?"

Haven looked from his squire a handsome man for a youth to the woman. "I think a pound would warrant much more than a simple smile. Think you she might walk out with you tomorrow. Perhaps to help you select your new bracers?"

"I think I could manage that."

"I'll add a second pound if you procure a kiss from her?"

Watley's brow wrinkled. "I'll not take her virtue."

"A kiss, nothing more, and in private."

"If private, how will you know I speak true when I say we kissed?" Watley stared at De Sessions as he drained his mug.

"You are sworn to my service, Watley. Would you lie to your overlord?"

"Nay, never." He thumped the mug onto the table.

"Then we have a wager." De Sessions held out his hand.

Watley shook with him.

They continued to watch the room for a few more minutes, and saw the woman request another drink.

"This is my chance," Watley said.

De Sessions nodded.

Watley stood and ambled toward the bar where the serving wench waited for the other woman's mug to be filled.

"I beg pardon, mistress," Watley addressed the wench. "Would you permit me to pay for that mug of ale and take it to the lady who ordered it?"

The wench looked him up and down. "I'm near run off my feet, we're that busy tonight. Thankee for offering to lighten my load."

Watley passed four farthings to the wench.

"Sir, the ale is only two farthings."

"Aye." The young man smiled at her. "Two are yours for allowing me to do this kindness."

Her brows rose. "Ye're English aren't ye."

"Yes."

"That explains it then?"

"Explains what?"

"Why you'd think it a kindness to take ale to that one." The wench tilted her head in the direction of the woman in the corner.

"I don't understand."

"Go ahead," the wench encouraged as she handed him the full mug. "Take it to her and find out."

What have I gotten myself into, Watley wondered.

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 9: A Traveler's Questions

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: July 1276, Unseasonable Rain & Fog

While he and Watley ate, Sir De Sessions studied the innkeeper. Since King Alexander of Scotland had recently solidified his power, Edward of England needed a good source of information about the movements of persons crossing through the ‘Batable Lands. Far too many travelers came to and went from England, using that unclaimed territory as a way to disguise their destinations. An innkeeper on the border might be a useful source of information.

In Edward’s service, De Sessions had employed the same ruse. He had indeed traveled to the MacKai demesne, Dungarob, in the very northwest of Scotland. However, he and his squire had also traveled inland to a number of meetings with various Scots’ nobles who might prove loyal to Edward given sufficient reward and motivation.

Watley had been present at every meeting along with a Scot’s priest, for nothing had been written, and both Edward and the Scots required witnesses to all agreements in hope of preventing betrayal. Trust of Scots who were willing to betray their king was scanty. Betray one king and a man might betray another just as easily. Now, as he had during those meetings, the squire said little but observed all that went on in the tavern.

The two men had been on the road for months, and finally turned for home and London just three days past. Edward had not specifically asked Haven to establish a network of watchers on the various routes to Scotland. However, De Sessions knew that information was more valuable when received earlier than needed.

“So, you’ve come from the north of Scotland,” the innkeeper was saying. “I know that country, and it’s not easy traveling. Where might your destination be?”

How to test this man’s loyalty to England and its causes?

“Aye,” De Sessions agreed, and bit into a rasher of pork. “However, we met with greater courtesy in the north than we ever did in the south. ’Tis pleasant to be among friends in such a beautiful country.”

“The Scots can be hospitable folk.” Innkeeper Alwin stated carefully. “Yet they have formidable tempers and very long memories.”

Was that a warning tone, De Sessions’ heard? If so, was the warning about trusting Scots to remember bargains made in secret or to be wary of their moods?

“And what of you, Innkeeper Alwin? You live on the border of lawless lands. How is it your inn and village show little sign of raids from Armstrongs and others in the ‘Batable lands?” He tore off a peace of bread chewing as he waited for Alwin’s reply.

De Sessions bore Alwin’s study with casual regard, saw how the innkeeper took in Watley as well without revealing thought or emotion.

“We are a peaceable village and trade with all who travel through. The ‘Batable clans know that reiving here would do more harm than good. The village is prosperous enough at peace, but destroying us with raids would destroy the goods and services we provide. That benefits no one, including the ‘Batable clans.”

“I had not thought those clans to be so reasonable.”

Nearby, Watley wiped his near empty platter with a last bite of bread.

“Where self-interest is involved, little reason is required.”

De Sessions nodded and sipped his ale.

Beside him, Watley stared into his mug, as might a man who’d had too much drink. As he stared, this head moved slowly side to side.

‘Twas a signal De Sessions knew well. His squire was telling him not to trust the innkeeper, but why?”

“I must tend to my other customers,” Alwin said rising. “I invite you to enjoy the fire and more ale while you wait. Betty will come to show you the way when your rooms are ready.

“Thank you, Mr. Alwin,” De Sessions said. Watley nodded his accord.

Both watched carefully as the innkeeper spoke to each customer in turn. They noted to whom Alwin spoke first, as well as the one or two guests who were ignored.

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 8: Weary Travelers

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: July 1276, Unseasonable Rain & Fog

Stefan Alwin entered the Pig & Pipe public room and shook the rain off his cloak then hung the garment on a peg near the fire to dry. He rubbed his hands together to warm them after the unseasonable chill & damp the area had suffered for the past three days.

He surveyed the tavern noting with satisfaction that Betty, now married to Mort the smith’s son had all the tables gleaming and was serving breakfast to two of their early customers.

“G’day Alwin,” called Father Cuthbert who shared a table with Bart one of Stefan’s oldest friends. The friar traveled a route that included all of the ‘Batable Lands and the few villages in Scotland and England on the edges of that no man’s land.

“And a good morning to you, Father. You as well Bart.”

His friend nodded as he lifted a mug of ale to his lips.

“How’s that fine wife of yours?” the friar asked.

“She’d keeping to the house for a while. We’re expecting our second child next month.”

Cuthbert smiled. “I’ll make a point to be here in September. We’ll have a fine christening.”

“Aye we will, and ‘tis honored we’ll be to have you performing the rites. Now please excuse me, I need to speak with Betty.”

His sister-in-law finished serving the two strangers occupying the far corner table. Stefan intercepted her on her way to the kitchens.

“Where’s Jeremy?” Stefan asked after his younger brother.

“He’s seeing to the horses of the two travelers.” She tossed her head toward the table she’d so recently left. Enlarging the stable is one of the best things you’ve done. People from all over come here now because they know their horses will be safe.”

“Aye this close to the ‘Batable Lands, no one leaves a riding horse untended.”

“It’s a sure invitation to reivers. They’ll take any chance for a good mount, and they’ve watchers everywhere."

Stefan shrugged and passed through the door leading to the new kitchen and keeping room with Betty in the lead. “That’s the way with such folk. How’s your husband this morning?”

“Helping his da with making the garden tools the Black Friars asked for. ‘Tis a handsome sum those Dominicans will pay for quality work.”

“And no better smith is there between here and York, I don’t care what the folk in Carlisle claim. What do you know of our two strangers?”

“Oh, now there’s a juicy tale to tell, but I don’t know it all yet.”

Stefan raised a brow.

“All I know for certain is they are knight and squire in service to Edward of England. Heard one of them, the squire, say he’d be glad of a roof for a night. He’s weary of sleeping under the stars with no fire. The knight tells him to hush. But more he did not say.”

“Hmm, perhaps I’ll have a chat with them. If they’re looking for a roof to light under this night, it might as well be the roof of the Pig & Pipe. It wouldn’t take you long to clean the rooms over the tavern, would it?”

“An hour mayhap two. Those rooms haven’t been used at all in the year since you and Linna moved to that house you built for her. They’re bound to be very dusty, and I might have to borrow fresh bed linens from Linna as well as get Jeremy to freshen the straw in the ticking. Could be ready for the travelers just after mid-day.”

Stefan nodded. “Perfect. Now I’ll go and do my job as inn keeper and persuade those men to rest here.”

“Tell ‘em the porridge and pork rashers will be ready in a trice.”

Stefan left the kitchen to return to the public room where he strode purposefully toward the far corner table.

“Good day, sirs. I’m Stefan Alwin the inn keeper. We don’t get strangers passing through often. I’m hoping you’ll not mind if I set with you a spell. Perhaps you’ve news you can share of events beyond Carlisle and our little corner of England.”

The knight looked up. “Sir Haven de Sessions, Mr. Alwin. This is my squire Watley.”

Stefan waited.

“Please,” De Sessions gestured to an empty bench at the table. “Join us. I’m happy to share what little I know of events farther afield. Perhaps you could tell me a bit about local events.”

Stefan sat. “That I can do. What would you like to know?”

“First, where exactly are we?” the knight queried.

“Oh, we call our village Fisher’s Cross because we’re quite close to where most of the fishermen cross the firth on their way to the sea. Where are you traveling to and from? You’ve the look of men who’ve spent long days in the saddle?”

“We’ve been to Dungarob and Strathn…”

A dark look from De Sessions silenced Watley. “Don’t say another word.”

At that moment, Betty arrived with food for the travelers. She placed a tankard of cider in front of Stefan.

“Our thanks, mistress.” De Sessions said and held out a few coins to her.

Watley just ducked his head and pulled his forelock.

“You’re very generous, Sir.” Betty pocketed the coins.

Stefan took it all in adding wealthy to his assessment of a knight who though he appeared to be in his early twenties showed great experience and discretion.

“So, you’ve come from the north of Scotland.” But they’re not Scots. “I know that country and it’s not easy traveling. Where might your destination be?”

The knight eyed Stefan.

I wonder what he’ll decide when he’s done studying me? Will he tell me any details, or will he decide I cannot be trusted?

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 7: I want two promises

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: Summer, 1275

Stefan nodded. “I see. Well then, if you have exhausted all the conditions you could think of for now, I want two promises from you, before we wed.”

She lifted away from him a bit. “What promises are those?”

“Promise never to lie to me.”

“I do not lie, sir. You insult me.”

“I mean no insult, but can you honestly tell me you never said false words to your father in order to protect your sister.”

Linna’s face colored. “No, I cannot say that honestly. But I say to you honestly that I will never lie to you as long as you are always truthful to me.”

“That is what I wish.”

“And the second promise?”

“You must always tell me what you want.”

“Only once I am certain of what I want.”

“I agree, you should be certain.”

“And will you do the same with me?”

“If that is your wish.”

“It is.” Hope shone in her eyes.

Finally, he had what he wanted most. Linna believed her life could change, and that her life should be with him. He stood there, his arms around the woman he loved, and thought about their future. About a house, no a home, with children, laughter and love. Growing old together, God willing.

“When shall we wed, Stefan?”

Linna called me by my name. He grinned.

“Stefan?”

“I will need at least a week, perhaps two. To arrange the wedding as you have requested it.”

“Why so long?”

“Are you so eager to be a wife?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Linna, do not play with me. Not about our marriage.”

“I do want to wed you. But I also want to leave my father’s house.”

“We do not need to be married for that to happen.”

“I said I’d not live with you before marriage.”

“And you shall not.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Go home tonight. Rest if you can. Tomorrow put all your belongings into bags along with your sister’s. Place the bags in the shed where your father stores his leather.”

“He never goes there, since his accident.”

“I know. After you are done with the bags go about your day as you usually would. Then when your father orders you to get him ale and pottage from the Pig & Pipe send Betty. When she does not return and your father grows impatient, tell him that you will go after Betty. Do not promise anything more. To do so would be to lie.”

“But if I go after Betty, won’t I be brining her home?”

“No. You and she will have a new home in the rooms above the tavern.”

“And where will you live?”

“I will live here in the lower rooms.”

“But our reputations, our honor?”

“Since you are both here together, there can be no question of dishonor. No one would believe Betty to be unfaithful to Mort….”

“Nor would they believe you and I anticipated our vows with Betty in the same room,” Linna finished. She smiled up at him. “I knew wedding you was a good idea. Thank you.”

She bussed him on the cheek, then found his lips with hers.

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 6: You have MORE conditions?

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: Summer 1275

Stefan leaned back against the wall to think and wait. Each time he thought she had finished, she interrupted to add some further detail. He would hear it all before he spoke again.

“I want Betty and Mort as our witnesses.”

He gave a small nod.

“I want white roses, like those I’ve heard grow in the cathedral garden, to carry when I walk toward the altar.”

Another nod.

“I want to live in a house. I’ll not raise my children above a noisy tavern.”

She wanted his children, and she wanted what was best for them.

He could keep silent no longer. “I agree, our children should not live above a tavern. But I do not own a house.”

“Then build one for me.”

“That will be costly.”

“Do you tell me that you spend all the tavern brings in? I’ll not wed a thriftless man.”

“I am not thriftless. I have money.”

“Enough to build a house?”

“Given enough time, yes.”

“I want the house before we have been wed a full year.”

Stefan did some quick sums in his head. “I think that can be possible.”

“I want the word obey removed from the vows we speak to each other?”

“’Tis fair.”

“You must promise to be faithful to me. I’ll not suffer humiliation before the town while you swive any wench you wish.”

“I only swive those who are willing. Are you willing?” Of course she is, she wants children does she not.

She was silent a long while. “As long as you cleave only to me, I am willing.”

“Then I so promise.”

She cocked her head. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“I’ll not slave all day at the Pig & Pipe then cook and clean at home.”

“You will work at the tavern only when you wish.”

“I want to be your partner in the tavern.”

“A full partner?”

“Yes, with an equal say in how the tavern is run.”

“And if I agree to that, how will we resolve any disagreements?”

“We will write to the Bishop in Carlisle and ask his decision.”

“A full partner would pay handsomely for the privilege.”

“But I’ll be your wife.”

“Aye, and as agreed, my wife need never set foot in the Pig & Pipe. But if you wish to have a voice in how the tavern is run you must risk your own coin to do so.”

“How much?”

“How much do you have?”

“I have enough to pay for Betty’s wedding feast with the entire village attending.”

Stefan rubbed his chin and thought. “That is a good deal of money. If you invest your coin in the tavern, then I will provide the wedding feast for Betty when she weds.”

Now she nodded. “Betty will live with us until she marries? I’ll not leave her to my father’s mercies.”

“We will find room for her. Although until the house can be built our home will be crowded, as the rooms above the tavern are small.”

“With luck, Betty will wed soon after us.”

“With luck.” He took her hand and drew her to him and cuddled her against his shoulder.. “Now mo luaidh is that all of your conditions?”

“I think so.”

He shifted to meet her gaze. “You only think so? You don’t know?”

She shook her head. “Even with the week you gave me, my head spun with questions and possibilities. It was difficult to think of everything I could want.”

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 5: But I don't know the bishop

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: Summer 1275

“Very well, state your conditions. I may have a few of my own.”

The frown that flitted across her face, pleased him. If it bothered her that he might have conditions, all well and good.

Her mouth set in a straight line and determination gleamed in her eyes. “You will swear to agree to all, or we will not wed.”

“I will not swear to agree to things I’ve not yet been told of.”

“’Tis fair.” She looked down at the floor and twisted her hands together.

Stefan reached out, lifting her chin with his fingertips until her gaze met his. “Tell me my darling, mo luaidh. Your wishes are important to me.”

Her eyes widened. “Am I truly your darling?”

“Aye. Would I propose to wed a woman who was not dear to me?”

“So, you would say this to any woman you wed?”

“Possibly, but I intend to wed you. And you, luaidh, are not just any woman.”

Her lips quirked in a half smile, gone almost before he could see it.

“You’re conditions, please.”

She pushed his hand from her chin and straightened. She was a tall woman, almost as tall as he. They would fit well together, and she need never feel he looked down upon her.

“First, I will not live with you until after we are wed.”

“I would not expect it.”

Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise.

He wanted to hug her. To comfort her and reassure her that while he lived no man would ever treat her as her father had. But he held back, knowing she was not ready yet to hear those promises. Indeed, as proud as his darling was, she’d likely bite his head off for implying that someone other than herself should see to her well-being. “And?”

“I wish to be wed in Carlisle,” she blurted at long last.

“If that is…”

“At the Cathedral.”

“I’m not certain…”

“By the bishop.”

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 4: Conditions

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: Summer 1275

In the moment just before their lips met, Linna wondered. Will his kiss be heaven or hell?

It had been heaven. Of course, it had. Since the age of twelve, shortly after her mother died, Linna had been listening to the village girls gossip about kissing Stefan Alwin. At two years older than she, he didn’t seem to care which maid he kissed or how many, but she did know he never kissed the same girl more than once. Not even when he was a callow youth, pulling her hair and teasing her mercilessly about her height, the color of her eyes, her nose, her mouth, everything about her was fodder for his teasing. He’d even tried to make fun of her breasts, once they started showing.

She’d made certain he never did it again. His ears must have rung for a week, she’d boxed them that hard. She smiled at the memory. For the very next day, Stefan had marched up to her in public and loudly apologized. So loudly he’d drawn a crowd. She was his friend, he’d said for all to hear. She did not deserve the kind of behavior he’d shown the day before--and all the other days before that. He promised he would never hurt or insult her again, and he would make certain every other man in Beurnferd gave her the respect she deserved. He turned a circle and surveyed the onlookers meeting everyone of them eye to eye. No one could mistake his meaning. Since that day she’d not had any problem with the men or most of the women. The only person Stefan had been unable to influence was her father.

Now Stefan offered escape, for both her and Betty. But at what price? No doubt he’d expect her to share his bed. She’d envied her married friends as they’d grown big with child then given birth. She’d envied the gossip they shared about men and their preferences for bed-play. No sharing Stefan’s bed would not be so bad. But would he expect her to slave in his tavern? She wouldn’t, not without some say in how it was run, and perhaps a share in the profits. Aye that would turn the trick. She’d never met a man who wanted to share his wealth with anyone, especially not a woman.

“Addlepated creatures,” she’d heard her father say in one of his more sober moments. “Can not count to save their souls, and too trusting by half. If a woman had money it would be gone within a day to some cheater’s pocket.”

Well, she’d just find out for certain if Stefan was like every other man who thought women dimwitted. She would insist on a share of the money earned at the tavern. If he wouldn’t give it to her, she’d not marry him.

Her heart twinged a little bit at the thought. She would have liked more of his kisses.

And what about Her sister. Betty and Mort the smithy’s son had been courting for more than a year. Wedding Stefan Alwin would solve Betty’s problem. She’d be able to marry as soon as she liked. And both of us would be out of reach of our father’s fists. For that reason alone she should accept Stefan’s offer.

Betty would be with a man she loved, and I… Well, I don’t need love if I have comfort and safety.

So maybe I will wed Stefan. If he can meet all my conditions. What else besides her financial security and Betty’s safety? Linna thought long and hard. If he wishes me to work in that tavern, he must assure me of regular hours, to forbid his customers to touch her as they did the other wenches. He must make clear to all that I am in charge of the women servants and what I say goes.

Certain that Stefan would never agree, Linna set out for the Tavern. It had been a week, and she had promised an answer today. But first he would respond to her demands.

She entered the Pig & Pipe to find the same men and a few women drinking and eating the same food and ale that had been served since old mister Alwin’s time. If she had any say that would change.

“Stefan Alwin,” she had to shout to be heard above all the other voices talking. “I would have speech with you. Now!” She stamped her foot and fisted her hands. It wouldn’t do to let anyone think she had feelings for Stefan by treating him less shrewishly than she did everyone else.

His head appeared around the curtain that separated the public room from the back room. A door led from the far end of that room to the outside where five steps took a person to the kitchen. Closer than most kitchens, but Old Alwin had explained it was for the sake of the wenches who were on their feet all day.

“Miss Fielding.” Stefan smiled, the same smile he’d given just before their kiss. “Would you mind joining me back here?” He held the curtain open.

She nodded then marched toward him. Speculative murmurs followed her all the way. She should have brought Betty with her. But Betty had pleaded with Linna to see to Da’s needs so Betty could spend some time with Mort.

The curtain dropped behind Linna.

“I’ve come to give you my answer,” she said.

“I appreciate your promptness,” he replied.

“But first, I have conditions that must be met if we are to wed.”

Stefan frowned.

Conditions? What more can she want than for me to make her my avowed bride before all the village?

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 3: Marry Me?

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: Summer 1275

Stefan smiled at her. This is going to be more difficult than I imagined, but I’ve got to make her listen to me. I may never get another chance.

“Nay. I’m not moon mad, or drunk or daft in anyway.” He slowed their pace. It would not do to get to her home too quickly. He needed time to work up to what he wanted, needed to say.

“Then why in the world d’you want my company?”

“Because I like you.”

She snorted.

“Truly, I do like you.” They drew near the center of the village square where a large arbor stood. The village had no church--mostly from lack of money and no one with the skill or knowledge to build one--so services, and public events like baptisms and weddings were held [SC1] in the shelter of the arbor whenever a friar or priest passed through on the way to Carlisle, the nearest large town.

When Linna and Stefan reached the far side of the arbor, where the remnants of a forest blocked any light from the sky, Stefan stopped. Since her hand was in his, Linna was forced to halt as well.

She tugged on her hand. “I need to be getting home. Betty will worry.”

No mention of old Fielding being worried about his eldest daughter out late in the night.

“I said I’d escort you home, and I will. First, I need you to listen to me.”

She huffed. “Very well, but get on with it. I’ll not spend the entire night out here with you. What would folk say?”

I hadn’t thought of that. I could sully her good name and probably get what I want, but I’d rather not.

“Well?” Her foot tapped a rapid beat on the dirt floor.

He needed time to find the right words. Words that would show the depth of his feelings for her and the fears that had kept him silent for so long. But those words would not come.

“Marry me,” he blurted at long last.

Her jaw dropped again, and she stared.

He waited for the scathing storm of objections she would use to batter him.

Only silence answered.

She simply stared, her hand still in his, blinking like she’d had her face dashed with a bucket of water and was trying to clear her vision.

“Well?” Now it was his turn to be impatient.

“W…wh…why? Why in the world would you ask me, the town shrew, who never has a kind word for anyone or anything. You can’t mean it. Not really. And if this a joke of some kind, I’m afraid I don’t find it very funny.” She finally succeeded in taking her hand from his then promptly folded her arms beneath her breasts, as if warding him off. Then she leaned the slightest bit forward and gave him her most frightful glare.

It truly was a fearsome thing to see. He’d watched her use it to good effect on anyone she wished would leave her be. He should have been frightened for the retribution that glare promised, if he did not retreat, forgetting the idea of marriage altogether. But retreat would not get him the wife he wanted, and he wanted Linna. Linna with all her faults and flaws whom he knew had the kindest heart in all England. Though she’d never show it, to be sure. He understood all that. He understood this woman and wanted her more with every sunrise.

“I want to marry you. That’s why.”

“Hmpfh, simple wanting is not enough.”

It is and it isn’t he wished to tell her but knew she’d not listen to his innermost thoughts--not now at least. Someday [SC2] she would.

“My wanting you isn’t simple at all. But there are other reasons to wed that have nothing to do with wanting.”

“Such as?”

“Safety. Yours and Betty’s.”

“What makes you think I’m not safe?”

“That bruise on your temple. It’s not the first bruise I’ve seen you carry. However, if I have any say, it will be the last.”

“I bumped into a door.”

“With a great deal of help from your father no doubt. You need to get away from him.”

“And where would I go? I’d have to take Betty with me. We’ve no money for traveling. But if we don’t’ go far enough, Da will just have the sheriff on us and bring us back. Then he’ll beat us both worse than ever. At least now, he doesn’t beat Betty. I won’t let him.”

“No, you make it so he beats you instead.”

“You’d do the same to protect your brothers and sisters.”

“Aye, I would. But they don’t need that from me, and you do. You and Betty both.”

The glare had relaxed into a thoughtful narrowing of her eyelids.

“I can’t answer you now.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t. Accept that or accept that my answer is no.”

“If there’s a chance you’ll agree to wed, then I’ll wait for your answer. But I’ll not wait forever.”

She nodded, her gaze turned inward and thoughtful. Then her head came up and she fixed her gaze with his. “One week. I’ll give you an answer in one week.”

“One week it is.”

He took her hand in his once more and strolled toward the cobbler’s shop on the far side of the square. The Fieldings lived in a few rooms above the shop. As he and Linna left the area near the arbor, the trees thinned and faint moonlight lit their path. When they reached the outdoor stairs leading to Linna’s home they stopped, almost at the same moment.

“Goodnight, Miss Fielding.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Alwin. Thank you for your escort and your ‘er offer.”

“I was happy to do both.”

“Well then, I should be going in.” She swung their joined hands between them.

“Yes, you should. But…”

“But…?”

“Could I, Linna, sorry Miss Fielding, might I kiss you?”

A slow smile broke over her face. “I think I might like you to kiss me.”

He leaned forward. She rose on her toes.

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 2: The Cobbler's Daughters

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: Summer 1275

“N…na…nay, Linna Fielding, I’ll no repeat anything.” Bart stood, wobbling a bit from the amount of drink he’d had, but towering over Linna.

She looked up at him, knowing she might be in trouble. Bart was normally the most pleasant of men, but you never could tell with a drunk man what he might do next. Still, she knew better than to show fear.

“Ye’re a coward then,” she sneered. “So, get yer cowardly backside out o’ my sight.”

“But…”

She shoved him aside. He was a big man, so she had to push hard.

He stumbled, slipped in a puddle of spilled ale and landed smack on his backside. His head hit the corner of a table on his way down.

“Ow!”

Linna swept past him heading straight for Alwin. She slapped her hand, palm down, on the bar. Which managed to get his stare lifted from her bosom to her face. “Betty forgot to pay ye.”

Linna lifted her hand away to reveal and small pile of dirty, worn, silver pence.

“That’s not necessary…”

“Are ye giving away food for free then, Mr. Alwin?”

The man’s face grew red. “But…”

“I’ll take no ‘buts’ from the likes of him or ye.” She thrust her thumb over her shoulder to indicate Bart where he still sat moaning.

Alwin’s gaze narrowed and focused straight on the bruise near her temple. He didn’t even look away when his hand covered the coins. “If you insist, Miss Fielding. But I still owe yer da, one shilling for the new shoes he made me.”

It was a lie. All of it. Since her father’s accident, he’d not been able to manage small work like cutting or sewing leather, and he was not able to see well enough to do fine work such as tooling. He hadn’t made a new pair of shoes in more than five years. If any shoes had been made it was Betty’s doing. Linna’s sister had skills, but kept them secret for sake of their father’s pride.

“So ‘tis I who owe your family money.” Alwin bent, reaching under the bar for his till. When he stood, he lifted his hand away from the pennies then placed a bright, shiny, shilling [S1] on top. “Ye’ll do me the kindness of taking the pennies too as a deposit on the belt yer da will be making for me.”

In all of this, his gaze had never wavered from her bruise. She wanted to cry. She wanted to rage, and throw all his damned money back at him. But she couldn’t. He’d tied up his charity in a neat little lie of a business exchange. Nonetheless she glared at him. “I’ll let him know.”

Alwin smiled.

She’d always liked his smile, but she didn’t want to like anything right now. “Goodnight.”

She was halfway to the door before she heard him call out. “Wait!”

“Why?”

Alwin made her wait for an answer. “Jemmy!” he called for his younger brother.

“Aye.” Jemmy’s voice came from an opening into the back of the building. Then his face showed. “What is it.”

“Take care of our customers, while I walk Linna home.”

“Ye actually want to walk with that female?”

“I don’t need anyone to walk me home.”

“Apologize, to Linna, brother.”

Jemmy rolled his eyes, as he approached the bar. “Sorry, Linna.”

She shrugged and hurried toward the door. She was out and would have run for home if Alwin hadn’t caught her by the arm.

“There’s no hurry, Linna.”

“That’s Miss Fielding to you.”

“As you wish.”

“And you can just go on back to your alehouse. I don’t need or want your company.”

“But.” He grasped her hand, forcing her to stop or fight him for it. “I want your company.”

Linna’s jaw dropped. “You…What?...You want…? Are ye moon mad?” She cast a quick glance to the sky where clouds scudded across a large full moon.

Stefan smiled at her. This is going to be more difficult than I imagined, but I’ve got to make her listen to me. I may never get another chance.

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe Episode 1: Welcome to the Pig & Pipe

Rue Allyn — Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Date: Summer, 1275

Stefan Alwin winked at pretty Betty Fielding as she whisked herself out the door with the pottage she’d come for. Her da was ailing, and Betty would say herself she was useless in a kitchen as a stone was for baiting a hook.

“Aye she’s a lovely lass that one,” mused Bart the miller.

Stefan nodded his agreement as he polished the curly maple surface he called a bar. “And she’s eyes only for Mort the smithy’s son.”

“’Twould be a service to us all if they married soon. Then we single men could move on to admiring other pretty women.” Bart announced to the room then sipped at his ale. A number of the village men nodded agreement.

“Well, they’ll not wed until her sister Linna is wed first.” Stefan remarked.

The copper cup holding Bart’s ale thumped to the counter. “Y’ don’t say. How’d y’ come by that bit o news.”

Stefan shrugged. “Mort told me, when he was bemoaning the fact that Betty would not set a date. ’Tis no secret that old Mr. Fielding will not let the younger daughter wed afore the older. Says it would be an insult to Linna, if her younger sister--younger by six years mind you--spoke vows first.”

“More like old Fielding wants t’ keep both his girls at home, so as not to have to pay for a servant,” called a voice from the far dark corner of the large room.

Stefan had turned his back to pour an ale for a stranger who’d signaled from the table where he sat.

The tavern door squealed open.

I really need to fix that. But it’s a two-man job, and the smithy still hasn’t delivered the hinges I ordered last week.

“And ‘tis also common knowledge,” Bart lifted his voice so all could hear. “That lovely as Linna is, she’d nag a man to death afore they’d been wed a year. She’s a beauty like Betty but has the temperament of a cornered badger.”

The room went silent as Stefan faced the room, intending to deliver the drink, but stopped in his tracks.

A fuming Linna Fielding stood framed in the doorway. “Y’ll repeat that to my face, Bart Miller, or are y' too much of a coward?”

Bart choked on the ale he’d swallowed after stating his opinion too loudly.

Linna strode across the room. Her hips moving in a sway that no man could resist watching. She stopped, bent at the waist and placed her nose a finger’s length from Bart’s. “I dare you to say that again.”

Lord that woman’s magnificent.

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Tales of the Pig & Pipe (This post contains the text of the Introductory Episode.)

Rue Allyn — Sat, 13 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Sorrow Drowned in Hard Work

Date Spring: 1275

Location: A Tavern on the Western edge of England’s border with the Debatable lands

Stefan Alwin opened the front door to the Pig & Pipe. The only occupants of the large room were the worn, age-scarred, solid oak chairs and tables, each one made by his father’s hand And of course what Stefan called the bar. A single slab of curly maple polished to an unbelievable shine by years of wear and careful waxing with his mother’s special formula for cleaning wooden surfaces. But full as the room was, it felt oddly empty. Not a sound, not one person, not even the stray cat that had adopted the tavern as his home stirred the still and stuffy air. The alehouse had been closed for the entire month that his parents had taken to die of the plague brought to their village by a traveling tin-smith. Stefan had caught the disease as well, but for whatever reason, God had decided Stefan’s time to die had not arrived.

This day, a week since their deaths, Stefan’s turn had come to bury his parents and comfort his younger brother. The village had lost more than half its population, and the graveyard had been a very busy place as one-by-one the survivors laid their family members in the ground then prayed and wept but received little solace. The local priest had been one of the first to succumb. An itinerant friar came by occasionally but none knew when he might arrive next.

There’d been no one who knew the right words and gestures to shrive the dead and comfort the living. Soon that would be his job. A tavern keeper always bent a listening ear to his customers. Often, he need say nothing other than indicate his attention was focused on whomever was speaking with him. People who frequented the Pig and Pipe wanted empathy, and that took no words to convey.

After the burial, Stefan insisted Jeremy visit a distant cousin in Carlisle. The lad needed a measure of joy and fun. That could not be found in their home village.

“It’s not right to leave all the work of re-opening the Pig & Pipe to you, Stefan.” Jeremy had objected.

“I need the time alone to grieve, brother, and the work will help me get through. Running the Pig & Pipe requires a lot of work. There will be labors aplenty to share when you return. As head of the family, I insist you go.”

Jeremey had left a week ago.

The first few days alone, Stefan had done naught but sit and stare. Today would be different. Today he would begin his life again and do what must be done. Jeremy would return soon, and all must be ready by then. Stefan planned a celebration to welcome his brother home and for re-opening the tavern.

But that was next week. Today, Stefan hung his cap and coat on a peg near the door and made his way through the public room, into the kitchen, past the small bedchamber that once belonged to his parents and out the back door to the shed where tools, rags and other implements were kept. He found a bucket/pail, some scrub brushes, rags and a pair of heavy gloves. Then he scooped a portion of lye soap, from the tub where his mother kept it, placed the soap in the pail and headed back toward the building that he had called home for his entire twenty-three years. Just outside the kitchen he paused long enough to haul water from the well and add it to the soap in the pail. From there he continued on into his home and began the dreary task of cleaning or removing everything his parents had touched. Which meant pretty much everything. Those items too awkward to be cleaned were set in a pile just beyond the hedgerow that marked the border of the tavern yard. He would burn them later, after he’d washed down every surface. He would rest a little as he watched the fire. By the time all had become ash night would have fallen.

After extinguishing the coals and burying them, Stefan returned to the tavern, Weary to the bone from labor, Stefan made his way to the small attic that had been his room since he’d been old enough to walk. His ocean of grief had shrunk enough for him to pause and look into the room his parents had shared. Tears threatened, but he held them back. Someday, he might move into their old chamber, but not tonight. Tonight, he needed something familiar, something that confirmed life would continue even though two of the people he loved were gone.

The only thing he owned was the attic chamber and two sets of clothing. One to wear while the other was washed. Stumbling into bed he corrected himself. For he was now the owner of the tavern. That realization broke the dam he’d been using to hold back the tears and do what was needed. With nothing to occupy his mind and hands, he wept shamelessly, crying out to an unjust god for solace and understanding. Why had two of the people he loved most in the world, people who loved him without condition, been taken from him. Eventually he cried himself to sleep, like the child he’d once been. In sleeping, he dreamt of his parents smiling down at him and laughing at some bit of silliness he’d done. They may be dead, but they would always love him. And that thought was with him when he woke the following morning.

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Love's Perilous Road - Available NOW from the Bluestocking Belles & Friends

Rue Allyn — Thu, 20 Feb 2025 00:00:00 +0000

The Somerville house party is in full swing, with guests from all over England and beyond. Will Captain Moonlight, the local highwayman, spoil everyone's fun, or will love finally capture the elusive thief? Eleven delightful, passionate, adventures await readers of this latest Bluestocking Belles and Friends collection. Get your copy today.

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