Love and Dreams
© 2012 Patricia Hagan
The Coltrane Saga, Book 6
When Colt Coltrane meets Russian prima ballerina Jade O'Bannon it is a case of love at first sight. But tragedy strikes when, on a voyage to America, a raging storm wrecks their ship, and Jade sees Colt swept overboard. Rescued from certain death by wealthy businessman Bryan Stevens, Jade slowly allows herself to think she might begin to love him. The only thing holding her back is the belief that Colt might actually be alive.
Then at a glittering ball, Jade is jolted by the sight of Colt. When it appears he does not recognize her, she thinks he is pretending due to each of them being married to someone else. But then she discovers he suffers from amnesia due to the blow to his head when he fell overboard.
Jade knows she cannot just announce the truth to Colt, that it will take time to ease into the reality of their situation. But, as when they first met, the two are inexplicably drawn together and fall helplessly into each other's arms…and in love. Too bad Bryan is willing to do anything to keep what he believes is his—Jade.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Love and Dreams:
The first peach and melon fingers of dawn began to slowly creep above the shadowy domes, spires, and crosses that made up the skyline of St. Petersburg, Russia, to stealthily push aside the clawing vestiges of night, parting the skies for a new day…in that late summer of 1893.
Jade O’Bannon stirred dreamily as she slept, there in the early morning mist of her mind. Visions of her world, past and present, passed in review, crowding out the anticipatory future.
Jade’s current affluent status was far removed from the rusticity of her beginnings. Her home in the magnificent palace of the brother and sister-in-law of Czar Alexander III, the Grand Duke Vladimir and Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna was so regally situated on the banks of the Neva River in St. Petersburg that it was more than just miles in distance from the small fishing village in Ireland where she’d spent the first years of her life as the daughter of a simple fisherman.
Fate had decreed another destiny for the green-eyed colleen, due to her not being a pure-blooded colleen at all. Russian blood flowed in her veins—royal Russian blood. Jade’s mother, Natasia, had been a first cousin to Czar Alexander II. However, her marriage to not only a commoner but a foreigner as well brought disfavor from the Imperial family. But Natasia obeyed the callings of her heart, turned her back on her heritage, and went to live in the homeland of her beloved, Patrick O’Bannon. Several years later, when he was lost at sea, she was left destitute but managed to scrounge means to return to Russia for the funeral of her royal cousin, only to die there soon after.
Jade, with her rare and special beauty, caught the eye and captured the heart of Marie Pavlovna, sister-in-law of the new Czar, Alexander III, and was unofficially adopted into the wealthy Romanov family, thus belatedly bestowing upon her a silver spoon of good fortune when she was eight years old.
Exposed to the very best of the world of art and culture, Jade was given the ultimate advantages to pursue her love of ballet. Studying under the expert tutelage of the renowned chief ballet master, Manus Petipa, she became a member of the Imperial Ballet by the time she was only thirteen.
Sought after by the rich, noble, and royal, Jade evaded romance in favor of her dancing. She was fanatically committed to her art…until John Travis Coltrane, known as “Colt,” came into her life…and her heart.
She had met him when she agreed to help a dear and beloved friend, Drakar Mikhailonov, as he sought to claim Colt’s sister, Daniella Coltrane.
Jade had always been a mischievous, fun-loving sort, given to pranks and practical jokes. To take part in Drakar’s scheme, by pretending to be a hard-working servant girl of poor background, seemed only a lark, at first.
The plan called for Colt, the handsome son of an American millionaire, long plagued by fortune-seeking women, to become smitten with Jade only to be rejected, thus eventually restoring faith in himself and dissipating doubts that a woman could care for him for any reason save his wealth. After all, he was to finally reason, if a poor servant girl could turn him down, then surely there was something to be said for the honesty of some, if not all, women, wasn’t there? This was to become blatantly obvious when, ultimately, he was to learn who Jade actually was: a wealthy member of the famous Romanov family, who would certainly never have to resort to being attracted to a man for money alone.
However, Drakar Mikhailonov’s plan went awry when Jade fell genuinely in love with Colt and, likewise, his heart was helplessly, hopelessly, mesmerized by the Irish-Russian ballerina named for the color of her devastatingly beautiful eyes.
For a time, Jade felt torn between her devotion to her dancing and her growing affinity for Colt. After all, a prima ballerina does not give every shred of her being over to her craft only to toss it aside the first time love beckons. But as time passed, Jade became achingly aware of the temptation to allow nothing, not even ballet, to take precedence over the great and abiding love thatgrew for Colt each day.
Yet, despite the stirrings within, the passion they shared, Jade spent much time wondering why Colt did not ask her to marry him. He professed to love her; he neglected his family in Paris and took up residence in Russia, studying the people and the language, and spending almost every moment with her.
But he did not speak of marriage…or of a future together.
A few months after they met, they attended the most lavish wedding Paris society had ever seen when Colt’s sister, Dani, married Drakar. During the ceremony their eyes had met and held with secret, heated messages of love, but still their own future matrimony was never discussed.
Then came the night when she was asked to dance as Imperial Prima Ballerina in Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, choreographed by Lev Ivanov. It was truly the moment every dancer dreams of, and Jade was ecstatic. Costumed in frothy net, chiffon, and satin, she sparkled before the audience like the diamonds entwined in her coppery chignon. The Czar and his family sat in the royal box, but Jade did not see them or anyone in the aristocratic audience of the opulent blue and gold Mariinsky Theater. Her heart, mind, body, and soul were enraptured and dedicated to the hour for which she had surely been born.
When the performance was over, the patrons stood on their feet and applauded until the very floors and walls shook with the echoing thunder. Again and again the thick brocade drapes swished open and closed as Jade accepted the accolades, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bouquets of flowers were brought to her by ushers. Czar Alexander himself stood up to throw an armload of red roses at her feet. She blew him a kiss, then turned glistening, happy eyes to her adoptive mother, the Grand Duchess Marie.
The other dancers in the Imperial Ballet company gathered about her, themselves applauding and heralding their new star. The master himself, Petipa, came up on the stage to kiss her hand and bow before her.
Then, as the cheers and applause diminished, and the other dancers moved away from Jade, one man began to walk purposefully down the aisle toward the stage. Jade blinked against the bright lights, felt the sudden rush of love within as she realized it was Colt. She’d thought him to be in Paris, called there suddenly by his mother due to his father’s being ill, but now he was here to share her glory, her triumph, the culmination of every ballerina’s dream.
He stood beneath her in front of the stage, holding up a single yellow rose tied with a slender satin ribbon of green. She smiled through her tears of joy and gracefully leaned down to accept it—then froze, blinking in bewilderment.
A huge, glittering diamond ring was tied to the stem.
Colt gazed up at her adoringly as he continued to hold out the single yellow rose. “What better time,” he whispered so that only she could hear, “for you to decide which you want to be—a prima ballerina…or my wife.” Later, he would confide that his behavior was not premeditated, that he’d planned to make his proposal afterward, in the quiet and romantic atmosphere of wine and moon
light. But as the glory of her performance exploded, he had been struck with the notion that this was the time for her to truly understand the emotions surrounding her decision.
Jade’s smile of consent was conceived in her heart. She reached out with trembling fingertips to take the yellow rose, pressing it against her lips, her green eyes shining with love and glory…love and splendor…love and dreams.
Then, with all the grace and aplomb that had brought her to this night, this moment of stardom, she fell into his waiting arms…and he held her tightly, lovingly against him as he carried her away.
Dreaming.
Jade was dreaming.
Would reality destroy the dream, as so often happens in life?
Perhaps not.
Perhaps if love was strong and true, the dream could become the reality.
Jade opened her eyes, awakening to the dawn of a new day—her wedding day.
And the quest to make the love and dreams a reality began.
When a haughty Lord meets a determined Miss the only winner is love.
Nicholas
© 2011 Cheryl Holt
Captain Nicholas Price is a man with a plan. As the newly minted Lord Stafford, he is determined to have the best of everything. Clothes, horses, women. He is well on his way with a well-born fiancée and an estate in the country.
Miss Emeline Wilson is a woman on a mission. Forced into penury by the cruel estate manager of the indifferent Lord Stafford, Emeline is determined to confront the new Lord with his callous ways.
When they finally meet, sparks fly, and Nicholas finds himself knocked for a loop by the feisty, intelligent, and definitely not high-born Miss. But what’s an already engaged Lord to do when the plans he’s so perfectly laid out for his future suddenly seem so wrong?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Nicholas:
London, May, 1814…
“Are you sure about this?”
“Very sure.”
Emeline Wilson forced a smile as she leaned across the wagon seat and patted Mr. Templeton’s hand.
He was an older gentleman, an acquaintance from her rural village of Stafford. He’d offered to drive her to London as he brought a load of hides to the tanner. Since she hadn’t had the money to travel any other way, she’d accepted.
The trip had been bumpy and lengthy and fraught with uncertainties. She was worried over whether she should proceed with her plan, and still hadn’t convinced herself that she was doing the right thing.
Nervously, Mr. Templeton pointed to the ostentatious mansion that towered over them. It belonged to Nicholas Price, the new Lord Stafford, a mysterious personage who’d been earl for a year and who no one at the Stafford estate had ever seen or met.
“The house is awfully grand, isn’t it?” he said.
“Not as grand as Stafford Manor.”
“How will you gain entrance?”
“I’ll simply knock on the door.”
“Do you think his staff will admit you?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” she firmly replied.
Two days earlier, when they’d left home, she’d been brimming with indignation, aggrieved on her neighbors’ behalves, and prepared to slay any dragon as she sought a paltry crumb of justice for them.
But now, with their having arrived, her confidence was flagging.
Why had she assumed she could make a difference? Why was she always so eager to carry the burdens of others? Perhaps she should have stayed in the country and kept her mouth shut.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t her nature to be silent or submissive. She was forever arguing when she shouldn’t, fighting unwinnable battles, and cheering on the less fortunate. Usually to no avail. There were few rewards to be gleaned by heroics, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Life was so unfair, catastrophe so random and typically heaped on those least able to withstand the onslaught. If she didn’t comment on inequity, who would?
Her dear, departed father—the village school teacher and best man she’d ever known—had educated her beyond her needs. She saw problems and the obvious solutions too clearly, and she couldn’t comprehend why the easiest remedies were the hardest to attain. Especially from someone as rich and powerful as Lord Stafford.
His tenants were suffering egregiously. Crops had failed and conditions were desperate, yet he couldn’t care less. He’d never bothered to visit Stafford. Instead, he’d installed Mr. Mason as his land agent. Mason was a bully and fiend who had been given free rein and unfettered control.
His sole objective was to put the estate on a sound financial footing, by any means necessary. He implemented his draconian measures without regard to the human cost. Families had been thrown out on the road. Acreage had been confiscated.
No one was safe from his harsh edicts, not even Emeline. Despite her father’s three decades of loyal service, she—and her two sisters, ten-year-old twins, Nan and Nell—were about to be evicted.
Mr. Mason had already forced them to relinquish their comfortable house, located next to the manor, in which Emeline had been raised. They’d been relegated to a dilapidated cottage in the woods, and they had to start paying rent or leave, her dilemma being that she had no way of paying the rent and nowhere to live if she didn’t.
“Should I wait for you?” Mr. Templeton asked, yanking her out of her furious reverie.
“There’s no need,” Emeline said. “Go make your deliveries, then pick me up at four o’clock as we planned.”
“It doesn’t seem as if anyone is at home.”
Emeline studied the mansion. The curtains were drawn. No stable boy had rushed out to greet them. No butler had appeared.
“Someone will be here,” she asserted. “I have an appointment, remember?”
It was a small lie, but she told it anyway. She’d written to the earl three times, requesting an audience, but hadn’t received a reply. Finally, in exasperation, she’d written a fourth time to inform him that she was coming to London—whether he liked it or not.
She couldn’t abide snobbery or conceit, and considering Lord Stafford’s antecedents, why would he exhibit any?
Twelve months ago, he’d simply been a captain in the army. When the old earl had died without any children, it had been a huge shock to learn that title would pass to Nicholas Price. In an instant, he’d gone from being a common soldier to a peer of the realm. What reason had he to act superior?
“You asked for an appointment,” Mr. Templeton counseled, “but that doesn’t mean the earl will keep it. His kind doesn’t have to be courteous.”
“Maybe he should recall that he’s not all that far above us.”
“Oh, Missy, be careful with your disparaging talk. If you’re not here at four o’clock, I’ll likely be searching for you at the local jail.”
“Don’t be silly. He wouldn’t have me…jailed merely for speaking out.”
“He’s dined at the palace with the king. That sort of experience tends to alter a fellow. He might do anything to you.”
“He won’t. He’s an officer in the army. He wouldn’t harm an innocent woman.”
“You just never know,” he ominously warned.
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted as a shiver of dread slithered down her spine.
Afraid that her courage might fail her, she leapt to the ground before she could change her mind.
“Good luck,” he said.
“I don’t need any luck,” she boldly retorted. “I have right on my side, and right will always prevail over injustice.”
She marched off, and he clicked the reins, his horses plodding away. As he departed, she felt terribly alone, as if she’d lost her last friend.
She gave in to a moment of weakness, to a moment of doubt, then she straightened with resolve.
“You can do this, you can do this,” she muttered over and over.
There had been a neighborhood meeting, and in a unanimous vote, she’d been elected to present their grievances to Lord Stafford, to seek some relief fro
m Mr. Mason’s oppressive decrees. She would not return to Stafford without garnering concessions from the earl.
She climbed the steps and was about to knock, when suddenly, the door was jerked open.
“It’s about bloody time you arrived,” a man barked. He grabbed her and yanked her inside.
Love and Honor
Patricia Hagan
From the glory of Spanish haciendas to the thrilling excitement of New York and the shadowy streets of Morocco, true love knows no bounds.
Beautiful Kit Coltrane has a fiery spirit to match her flame-red hair. No matter that her father is the U.S. Ambassador to Spain, Kit has no interest in all the fancy balls and dinner parties that go with his position.
It is at an embassy ball that wealthy rancher Kurt Tanner is smitten by the feisty beauty. A handsome, debonair man of the world, Kurt is used to being able to have his way with any woman he chooses, and Kit’s aloofness only makes him all the more determined to possess her.
When the stubborn Kit is kidnapped and taken to Tangiers to be sold into white slavery, it is up to Kurt to try and save her and prove to her once and for all that she is the perfect woman—and spitfire—for him.
This Retro Romance Reprint was originally published in September 1989 by Avon Books.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Love and Honor
Copyright © 2012 by Patricia Hagan
Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7 Page 27