Paul Willson Fantasy

Book 3 of the Dance of The Blacksmith and The Huntress Series

Trapped within their scars and their own limiting beliefs, Doyle and Ophelia find themselves caught in a dance of longing, keeping their true emotions concealed from each other.

Amidst the joyous Spring festival, dedicated to the goddess Drethia, Ophelia’s devoted students – Helena, Bergonia, Lily, and Fleur, whom she had tirelessly trained during the winter – keenly observe the interplay between Doyle and Ophelia. With the support of the townsfolk of Frieden, the students take it upon themselves to orchestrate events that will bring the two together.

As death’s shadow looms over Doyle, the couple finally acknowledges the profound, unspoken connection that has always bound them together, recognizing the countless times they have been each other’s saviours in times of peril. Will Doyle and Ophelia defy the dictates of destiny, or will they persist in their artful evasion of their true feelings?

The Dance of the Blacksmith and the Huntress stands as the triumphant conclusion to the captivating trilogy of The Dance of the Blacksmith and the Huntress series.

Read an excerpt from the book below the book cover or go to Amazon, :

After washing the grime from the blacksmith shop and changing his clothes Doyle headed to the tavern and sat down in his usual spot at the bar. The food was good but the reason he came here was Ophelia, in the hope he could finally talk to her.

“Good evening, Doyle,” Ophelia greeted him. “Would you care to have your usual order?” Despite spending many years living in the town, her speech still showed her privileged upbringing.

“Hello, Ophelia. Yes please.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but no other words came out.

Ophelia brought a stew and a tankard of ale, and she put it down quickly and walked away. The stew was excellent as usual but what did it take to talk to her?

Doyle heard some excited whispering behind him. When he turned around, he came face to face with a group of young female caterans looking at him and smiling. He recognised them as Ophelia’s students, Helena, Begonia, Lily and Fleur. Helena was the one he shouted at earlier in the square. No wonder he angered Ophelia. They looked like that they had all had a bit to drink. That probably gave them the courage to talk to him. He knew he didn’t have the best reputation for being approachable.

“You like her, don’t you?” Helena said excitedly making the others giggle. These girls were either brave or stupid.

“What?” He replied irritably, trying to hide his feelings as his face flushed red with embarrassment. It was none of their business.

“You do, we’ve all seen the way you look at her as you pass every day. You can’t keep your eyes off her.”

He wasn’t that obvious, was he?

“Go away.” He told them gruffly. He felt embarrassed so he turned back to his stew and ale. He couldn’t let anyone know how he felt.

“You know, she likes you too,” Fleur said, joining in with Doyle’s torment.

With that comment, he started to choke on his ale. The girls started giggling again. He was embarrassed by his reaction, embarrassed that some girls so much younger than he had got the better of him. What were they doing to get his hopes up?

“She likes you too,” Fleur repeated. “She is always looking at you when you come in here. She is looking at you now.”

Doyle was pretty sure they were playing games. He would charge them double the next time they came to his blacksmith shop, but he couldn’t help but look at Ophelia. His eyes met hers, but she quickly turned away with a scowl.

“Leave me alone!” he told the girls irritably not wanting to have this conversation.

“Ok, but if you want any help with Ophelia, we can help you,” Lily told him gently with encouragement.

“Just let us know. We know she is lonely but won’t admit it. She is so self-conscious about her scars. It would be nice for her to have someone especially someone who finds her attractive like you,” Lily added, sounding sincere.

The girls were between the ages of eighteen and twenty. Helena was the eldest and appeared to be the leader of the four girls. She was bold and confident, with short dark hair and brown eyes. Begonia was tall and had long strawberry-blond hair and blue eyes. Lily was flirtatious with blond, almost white hair, and brown eyes. This made her the most popular with the young men. Fleur was the least confident of the four. She was short with red hair but was loyal and when up against it she was the bravest of the four. Ophelia had done a lot to improve her confidence.

Doyle grunted as the girls went back to their table. He felt worse. What they said was all true but there was no way a woman, especially one as beautiful as Ophelia, would like anyone with a scar like his and a limp. Doyle had his pride; He wasn’t going to let a group of girls help him. He drained his tankard and left the tavern. Knowing that his secret was out had put him in a bad mood. What if Ophelia found out?

Ophelia turned away when Doyle looked up when he talking to the girls. “Why is he always staring at me,” she thought, “looking at my scars and eye patch, he thinks I’m ugly. He does that every day. Do I look that hideous?” The girls said he liked her. She knew that wasn’t true, if he did, he would have come and talked to her rather than just stare. She thought cruelly that he should look at himself, that scar down his eye and that limp. He was doing well for himself though, she had heard.

“A blacksmith is a natural job for a retired cateran,” she mused. “He knows how a cateran likes their blades and armour.” From the conversations she heard in the tavern a lot of caterans buy and repair their equipment with him for that reason.

“Stop thinking about him!” she scolded herself quietly.

She turned back to look at Doyle, but he had gone. She felt lonely again. When he was near there was always hope.

Ophelia decided that the girls shouldn’t have spoken to Doyle, and she was going to make that clear.

“Leave Doyle alone, girls, he doesn’t like company,” Ophelia told them as she went to their table to collect their empty cups. Ophelia had been training Helena, Begonia, Lily, and Fleur all winter. They had potential but lacked focus. They often got distracted and this was one of these times.

 “I bet he would like your company.” Ophelia heard Fleur say from behind her, followed by a lot of giggling, as she turned to walk away.

Ophelia felt herself blush, but she composed herself before she turned back,

“What, did you say?” irritated that her scolding had the opposite effect.

“I bet he would like your company,” Fleur repeated.

“Haven’t you noticed that he keeps looking at you? It is obvious he likes you.” Helena added. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Ophelia snapped. She heard more giggling as she walked away. What were they talking about? Of course, he didn’t like her what man would? she thought as she looked into the mirror behind the bar and saw her scars.

The Dance of The Blacksmith and The Huntress is available to buy on Amazon