Hunky Alpha Wednesdays are days dedicated to the men we love the most! The Hunky Alphas that make our knees go weaken and out hearts flutter! So I’d like to give a great big welcome to Sarah Hegger!
Take it away Sarah!
When I set out to write medieval, I knew it would involve a sword swinging, axe wielding Alpha male with a bad attitude. Trying to pretty these boys up and make them more PC is just not going to fly with readers of medieval romance. They lived in hard times and they were all man, all the way. (Putting aside, of course, the historical accuracy, which would have given them terrible body odour and worse teeth.)
Guy of Helston is a man who had made his way in the world by the sword. As a younger son, he had no chance of inheriting. Raised by a thug, he was brought up hard. Working as a mercenary for King Stephen, Guy has gathered a small army of men in a similar position. He is working his way towards his greatest ambition, land of his own and a title.
Opportunity comes his way in the form of a proxy marriage. The Earl of Lystanwold is banished and in a desperate act to save his niece and ward, Helena, from being married off to suit the king, he asks Guy to marry the girl. If the Earl doesn’t do something before he flees for his life, the most likely bridegroom would be the very man who married and murdered his other ward, Helena’s sister.
Guy doesn’t hesitate to take the offer. Which is how we find him in the beginning of my story The Bride Gift.
But I wanted to add a little something extra, so I gave my big, bad, mean and moody fighting machine a soft underbelly. Beneath all the muscle and steel are a huge heart and an unequalled capacity for loyalty. Guy is also a man of very few words. There’s a good reason for this, but it only comes out almost at the end of the book. When the reader and Helena first meet Guy, he is a muscle bound warrior, climbing through her window, using very few words and expecting to be instantly obeyed.
Excerpt:
Spring, 1153, North of England
Dangling sixty feet from the ground and hanging on by his fingernails was not what he had in mind when Guy of Helston declared, at the tender age of eight summers, come what may, he would win a title one day. Mayhap it was his just deserts for foolishly declaring to his brother, Crispin, he would stop at nothing to achieve his ambition.
An insistent hiss from below reminded Guy there was still much work to be done. Intently Guy searched the rock face above him to locate the next handhold. It had seemed such a good idea from the ground. Roger had made it sound like the logical course. For certes easier than lengthy explanations yelled up from the gatehouse for all within earshot to hear. The earl had led him to the hidden postern gate and they had slipped undetected through the curtain wall into the inner bailey.
The castle bristled with men at arms, all of them anxious and aware of the witch’s cauldron of trouble brewing around their lady. Change crackled in the wind with new rumours circulating faster than flies on a midden heap. The war between King Stephen and Empress Maude ripped through the land and threatened all.
“Whist.” Roger’s voice floated softly up to him just moments before Guy caught the soft tramp of the guard. Beneath him, two men at arms passed into view. Guy froze, his eyes locked on the two figures beneath him. All it would take was for one of them to glance up. The sentries stopped for a moment and then changed direction. Guy let his breath out slowly. He waited a heartbeat more and continued his ascent.
Closer he climbed to the open casement. The cursed thing actually seemed to be getting further away. He forced himself to go slowly. One hand at a time, find the foothold before moving on. One slip now would mean certain death. An age of aching muscles passed before he could haul his body over the lip of the window embrasure. He rested there for a moment with half his body hanging over the edge and his boots still wedged against the rough rock. The rope around his waist jerked.
“Jesu,” he swore and glared into the shadows below him. Could he not just have a moment to catch his breath?
He slithered into the dark beyond the embrasure and uncoiled his body slowly. He stopped, his senses alert to discovery. Silence.
Bio
Born British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger suffers from an incurable case of wanderlust. Her match? A hot Canadian engineer, whose marriage proposal she accepted six short weeks after they first met. Together they’ve made homes in seven different cities across three different continents (and back again once or twice). If only it made her multilingual, but the best she can manage is idiosyncratic English, fluent Afrikaans, conversant Russian, pigeon Portuguese, even worse Zulu and enough French to get herself into trouble.
Mimicking her globe trotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother.
She currently lives in Draper, Utah, with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books.
Sarah also loves to hear from readers. Put in and say ‘hi’ anytime.
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Thank you Sarah for stopping by today! Please check out this awesome author!