Alex chuckled. “My mother is not as easily shocked as you seem to imagine and would love the romantic story of your sister’s flight to Porter. And she would, of course, insist upon your resuming your position as her companion. Not that you were officially her companion. But if she considers you to be homeless because you cannot bear the thought of returning to the odious Chase, I daresay she will not be able to help taking you under her wing.”
“And save you the expense of setting me up as your mistress.” Estelle tilted her head to one side, allowing Alex’s marauding hands easier access to her body. “Yes, that would be a wise economy, I suppose.”
“Estelle, my dear, you are in danger of trying my patience beyond endurance. I have no intention of taking you as a mistress. I want you for my wife.”
Estelle’s mouth fell open. “But that is impossible!”
“I know that it is, for the present. I am not so ill-mannered as Cowper in that I would propose to a lady who is still in mourning.”
“Oh, I see.” A tremulous smile tugged at lips. She bit them, afraid that she might be about to disgrace herself by crying.
“But since gaining a liking for doing as you please, you appear to have developed a penchant for frequenting concealed passages, drugging maids, crowning butlers with frying pans and masquerading as governesses. I do not think that such qualities ought to be encouraged in a future viscountess. I should keep you where I can see you until such time as I can decently propose to you.”
“Hum.” She traced the line of his lips with her finger. He responded by sucking that finger into his mouth and smiling into her eyes, passion and amusement competing for domination in his expression. “It is a tantalizing prospect, I must confess.”
“And when I am in a position to propose, what do you imagine your response will be?”
“It is hard to say and, anyway, I think it excessively cruel of you to excite my anticipation since I cannot see the situation ever arising. Your mother will be grievously disappointed that you have chosen so poorly. She puts great stock by such matters you know.” She wagged the finger he had just released beneath his nose.
“My mother says all the things she thinks people wish to hear and then does precisely as she pleases.” His lips brushed the sensitive spot beneath her left ear. “It can be terribly trying. You are very much like her in that respect, you know.”
“Yes, I daresay that I am. Would you not find that rather frustrating, having two such contrary females under your care, I mean?”
“I certainly feel frustrated at this precise moment. But we were discussing my mother. She is a romantic at heart and since she already adores you, I do not anticipate any difficulties when I take her into my confidence and tell her that I plan to propose to you as soon as I decently can. That will save her the trouble of finding suitable young ladies to parade for my attention, of course.”
“Do you really think it will be that simple?”
“Indeed, I do. In fact I believe she noticed my partiality for you even before I became aware of it myself. If she did not approve she would have been sure to let me know.”
“Oh.” Estelle appeared to have lost the ability to say anything that made the slightest bit of sense. She blamed his hands, of course. How could anyone be expected to think coherently when he was doing such wonderful things with them? But she was not about to say so in case he felt honour bound to bring them under control. “Then why did she go to the trouble of discussing your potential brides with me?”
“I would imagine it was her convoluted manner of judging if you returned my regard.”
“She was assessing my suitability for the role, you mean?”
“I daresay she was. But regardless of my mother’s feelings about our union, the plain fact of the matter is that I love you to distraction and cannot conceive of a life without you in it. You are everything I have ever wanted in a woman, Estelle. You are brave, principled, intelligent and witty and, when I ask you that question, I think it only fair to warn you that I shall not take no for an answer.”
“Well,” she said, smiling openly as happiness invaded every corner of her body. She slipped her arms round his neck, lifting her face to receive his kiss. “Since you put it like that…”
About the Author
Wendy Soliman grew up on the Isle of Wight in the south of England. She now lives in Andorra, a small principality nestled in the Pyrenees mountains between France and Spain, with her husband Andre and a rescued dog of indeterminate pedigree.
To learn more about Wendy Soliman, please visit www.wendysoliman.com or historicalromanceuk.blogspot.com. You may send an email message to Wendy at [email protected]
A passion they never expected…a mystery that could cost them everything.
Yorkshire
© 2008 Lynne Connolly
Richard and Rose, Book 1
Rose Golightly is a country girl who thinks her life will continue on its comfortable course, but a series of events changes that for good. On a visit to the ancestral estate of Hareton Abbey, Richard Kerre, Lord Strang, enters her life. A leader of society, a man known for extravagance in dress and life, Richard is her fate. And she is his.
Richard is to marry a rich, frigid woman in a few weeks, and has deliberately closed his heart to love. Then a coach accident throws his wounded body into Rose’s arms.
With one kiss, Richard and Rose discover in each other the passion they thought they’d never find.
But the accident that brought them together was an act of sabotage. Somewhere, in the rotting hulk of a once beautiful stately home, a murderer is hiding.
Richard and Rose set out to solve the mystery, and find the layers of scandal go deeper than simply determining who is guilty. And that doing the right thing could separate them—forever.
This book has been revised from a previously published edition.
Warning: This series is addictive. Passion and murder are a potent mix.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Yorkshire:
Lord Strang walked into the coach house.
He held his injured arm in a sling fastened around his neck, and he was dressed simply in a country frock coat, slung around his shoulders against the cold. No make up or expensive satin today. He looked comfortable, at ease, far more human than he had when he first stepped out of his coach the previous Monday and far more like his brother, but I would never have confused them.
He stopped when he saw me and looked me over, slowly. I felt dowdy and provincial, under his even gaze, and dropped my eyes. He came quickly towards me, and then stopped again suddenly, a few paces short of me. Regaining my courage I lifted my head and we regarded each other steadily. “Good morning, ma’am,” he greeted me, bowing.
“Good morning, my lord,” I replied. “Do you feel better today?”
“A good deal better, thank you,” he replied. “Sleep and rest seem to have restored me almost to my old self. But not quite,” he added in a quieter, more reflective tone.
I glanced at the sling, expertly tied, no doubt by his resourceful manservant.
“You look much better, sir. I hope your arm does well now.”
An easy, genuine smile transformed his grave features into something else, making him look like any other man—almost. It went right through me. “I hope so too,” he agreed. “Carier certainly seems pleased with its progress.”
I felt uncomfortable, stilted. “Your man seems very capable with injuries,” I commented, trying very hard to keep up a normal conversation. “I didn’t think it was considered usual in a manservant.”
“He joined me on the Grand Tour, direct from the army,” he replied. He didn’t seem aware of my awkwardness. I thanked the Lord for good manners. “He served a general for several years and took an interest in helping the wounded. He dealt with much worse there, or so he would have me believe.”
I found it difficult to take my eyes off Lord Strang, but I knew I must do something to stop myself, or he might notice. I felt a
wkward and ungainly as I always did in difficult situations. My inner feelings intensified it all, made it even worse. Partly to give myself an excuse to take my eyes away from him and partly on an impulse I turned away for a moment and picked up the cut strap. “Sir, the most dreadful thing!” I began, and turned back to him.
His gaze had gone to the strap in my hand, and he must have seen what I did. He took the step that brought him to my side. “Good God!” he exclaimed. Taking the strap from me he turned it over so he could examine it from both sides.
We stood side by side and stared at that strap for a while in silence, for far too long. Then I found my voice at last; “It has been cut, hasn’t it sir?”
I smelled him now. An unidentifiable scent of manhood mixed with something of citrus, too agreeable for comfort. I wanted to move away, but thought he might realise something was wrong if I did. I would be deeply mortified if that were to happen. It was bad enough to have this crazy infatuation—much worse if he knew it.
“There’s no doubt about it,” he replied gravely. “Look, it’s been cut nearly through. I’m surprised the coach got as far as it did.”
He dropped the strap as though it had become suddenly hot, and went round to the other side of the coach to examine the strap on that side, but I didn’t follow him. I needed time to get my breath back. His presence so close hit me like a blow to the stomach, especially in the way he had taken me by surprise by walking in so unexpectedly. I put my head back and took some deep, clear breaths of the chilly morning air, pulled it down into my lungs in an effort to clear my head. Slowly, I regained my self control.
Lord Strang walked round the coach slowly and carefully, examining it closely at several points, then he came back to where I stood. “This is very serious indeed,” he said, thoughtfully, but he didn’t say, as I thought he might, we would have to tell someone at once. So, I said it. With two of us so certain, surely someone should be informed. “Shouldn’t we tell someone?” I asked, tentatively.
Impulsively, I turned towards him, but he was standing too close. I drew breath and smelled him, the perfume he used and that unfamiliar smell of masculinity. I could almost feel his warmth. Then I let my eyes meet his in a careless second.
Everything rushed in on me, on his blue gaze. I was lost.
To my amazement, there seemed to be a similar response in him. His eyes widened in disbelief and the breath caught in his throat. He said, “You too? Oh dear God!” and without any more words, he drew me to him with his good arm and kissed me.
Tiny tentative kisses at first, gentle, the kind one might give a friend at greeting, but they soon changed to passionate and demanding when, despite my good intentions, I responded. This, I thought firmly to myself, is not happening! I didn’t pull away. I wrapped my arms around him instead, and touched him properly for the first time. His hard body tensed under the fine linen shirt.
I’d never known anything remotely like this before, this aching desire that betrayed all my self-control. Living in an overcrowded manor house had taught me powers of discretion no one else had been able to break through, not even Steven, although he had tried. While every sensible bone in my body screamed for me to pull away, to get away, my treacherous arms wouldn’t push, and my legs seemed to be rooted to the spot. With those kisses, he unlocked something I had only been aware of dimly before. Passion.
He bent his head to kiss my neck. Now I could call out, now I could say something, but I only sighed with longing. My throat arched, his kisses burned my skin. I wanted him to continue, but he pushed me away, gasping, “No!”
My astonishment reflected in his eyes as we stood and stared at each other. All my good resolutions had gone dissolved away in the wake of passion. Only aware of him as he looked at me, I tried to think, stay calm, in control of myself, but had to fight for it like never before.
“Someone told me you were dangerous,” I said, quietly. My voice shook despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
“Then you have me at a disadvantage, for no one told me how dangerous you are,” he said in his soft, low voice. I stared at him uncomprehendingly, and a heavy silence fell between us.
I heard the groom outside singing; I heard the horses in their boxes. I thought I had better go. Finally regaining control of my body I turned away, but he said abruptly, “Come and talk. I promise I’ll behave.” And I knew I too felt the need to talk about this, to see if it was real.
I followed him to the back of the coach house where there were a couple of bales of hay, and we sat down side by side, careful not to touch. I felt the shock of his arm around me, the desire in his kiss. I still trembled. I dared not look at him again. Staring at my trembling hands, I tried to control them, gripping them tightly, watching the knuckles turn white. The dark red scab of the scrape split a little and oozed drops of bright red blood.
One promise, two pendants…love that was destined to be.
Gypsy Legacy: The Marquis
© 2007 Denise Patrick
The Gypsy Legacy Series, Book 1
Lady Christina Kenton’s life is turned upside down when her gypsy great-grandmother gives her a pendant, along with a deathbed request—Tina must promise to marry only the man wearing its mate. But Tina cannot bring herself to make the promise, for her late stepfather has already pledged her hand to his long-absent heir.
Jay Collings, now the Marquis of Thanet, returns to England after an eighteen-year absence to honor a promise to a gypsy who once aided him, only to discover he must break his vow in order to secure his inheritance. The last thing he wants is a wife chosen by the father he despised.
Tina’s gentle strength touches Jay in ways no other woman has. And, unknown to them both, she holds the key to Jay’s promise and his inheritance. But just as their fragile relationship begins to take root, the legacy of her gypsy blood brings danger to their doorstep.
Jay and Tina’s destinies may be entwined—but will they live long enough to fulfill them?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Gypsy Legacy: The Marquis:
Nona smiled briefly at her. “I am as well as a dying person can be. No,” she interrupted when Tina would have said something, “do not deny it. I have lived long enough—more than eighty years upon this land—and I have seen many things. Fate has smiled upon me many times. Not many live long enough to see their great-grandchildren wed and while I will not be able to witness your marriage, I will not breathe my last until after ’tis done. It is enough.”
Tina’s eyes widened at Nona words. “But, how…?”
“How do I know this?”
Tina nodded, unable to speak.
“I have seen it in the cards and the cards do not lie.”
Tina was silent at this pronouncement. She would not gainsay Nona, but she wondered if Nona knew of the betrothal agreement. Perhaps her mother had said something. “I will miss you,” was all she finally said.
“Yes, but you will be happy.” Nona smiled at that. “That is what is important. Now, help me to sit up, so that we can talk. I have much to tell you.”
Tina did as she was bid, using the cushions from the bench to help prop up her great-grandmother. When Nona was settled, she asked Tina to open the chest beside the bed and retrieve a small casket. Moving a small cup of water, Tina opened the chest and found the casket, setting it in Nona’s lap. Nona opened it and searched the contents. Eventually, she removed a gold chain, on which hung a gold and diamond starburst pendant approximately the size of a pocket watch, with a star-shaped opening in the center. She held it out to Tina.
“I have waited to give this to you because you have not needed it until now, and I worried you might lose it. But now it is time. Wear it with pride and do not remove it until you have found its mate.”
“Its mate?” Tina asked. “But how…?”
“You will know and recognize it when the time is right. The wearer of the mate is your destiny. You must not accept any other.”
Tina stared in amazement. Unable to find wo
rds for a moment, she slipped the pendant on to cover her confusion.
“But how am I to find him?”
“He will find you.”
Tina sighed. It just didn’t seem right to base her future on finding a matching pendant. There was still the betrothal agreement to be dealt with. What was she supposed to do about that?
“You need not worry so, little one.” Nona said, as if reading her thoughts. “All will be well. You will see. My Shana did not think so, but all was well. Her Felicia worried, but all was well, and you, too, will see.” She closed her eyes, but continued to speak. “I will tell you a story.”
Nona settled back against the pillows and Tina picked up her hand again. It was little more than skin and bone. The skin was soft, the pads of the fingers calloused, but Tina held it lovingly.
“I was sixteen when I met Richard. He was strong and handsome, with a laugh that caused my heart to stop. He was also already married. I was infatuated as only a sixteen-year-old could be. I disregarded the cards and pursued him all the same. It was the only time I have ever ignored the cards.” She was silent for a few moments, then continued. “I soon realized the error of my ways, but not before I was with child. But Fate was kind to me and I bore a girl. I had twelve years with her before Richard learned of my Shana’s existence.”
Nona shifted against the pillows. “Shana was a kind and trusting soul, but longed for something different. Despite having been born into our way of life, she did not fit in. When Richard offered her the chance to live with him, she took it. By then the cards had warned me her destiny no longer lay with our people so I did not protest. I did not see her again until after her marriage to a baronet. And it was many years after that before I learned she had married the baronet because her half-brother cast her out after their father’s death. Although he was much older than she, the baronet doted on her and when your mother was born, his delight knew no bounds.”
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