Barbara Bettis books

The Heart of the Phoenix

If the damned hammering in his temples ceased, he could think. The pressure in his head, the constriction of his body, the rough, measured sway—he lay draped like a bag of grain across the back of a horse. Why? D’Ambrosie…surprised us… Evie? Where? Bile burned at the back of his throat. Safe. D’A...