The Earl and The Enchantress (An Enchantress Novel Book 1)
Page 35
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Connect with me online at www.paullettgolden.com, www.facebook.com/paullettgolden, www.instagram.com/paullettgolden, and www.twitter.com/paullettgolden. You’ll also find me on at such places as Goodreads, Bookbub, Amazon’s Author Central, and LibraryThing.
All the best,
Paullett Golden
If you enjoyed The Earl and The Enchantress, read on for a sneak peek of the next book in The Enchantresses.
The Duke and The Enchantress
Available 2019
The Duke and The Enchantress
This tale begins at the happy ever after, for Miss Charlotte Trethow has married the Duke of Annick, and all her dreams have come true. Charlotte would laugh with delight if she weren’t barreling towards an unknown future in a land far, far away.
The duchess bounced and swayed in the ducal state coach, heading in the opposite direction of civilization and wondering what happens after the happy ever after. She eyed her new husband warily, the nuptials having been conferred hours prior. How could he sleep so soundly through the bumps and grinds of the ride?
A lengthy week’s journey lay ahead of them, after which point she would meet her mother-in-law, her sister-in-law, and her new home. Could she do this? Could she be the perfect duchess, the perfect wife? The idea of being a duchess had seemed so dreamy, but as the reality set in, she feared failure. How does one be a duchess?
The mere thought of the pressure caused anxiety to constrict her breathing, an oppression against her chest. Although the finery of wealth and status surrounded her in the plush velvet padding of the carriage, and the handsomest man she had ever met sat across from her, she feared what would happen next with London at her back and Northumberland ahead of her.
To ease her mind, she focused on her new husband, Drake Mowbrah, Duke of Annick. His lean frame wedged in the corner of the carriage, long limbs stretched across the carpeted floor, his breathing punctuated by soft snores. Despite her worries, she did find him irresistibly attractive. He had the slender physique of a fencer, a sabreur to be precise.
She admired his lithe body with the porcelain complexion of a nobleman, his ebony hair fashionably brushed forward, heavy on top and cropped short on the sides and back, his Roman nose well-proportioned to his slim face. And his lips. She loved his lips. Soft and red, almost pouty. Blue eyes, a deep sapphire. All so unlike his cousin.
Her gaze shifted to the man sitting next to Drake, his cousin. He glowered at the window, making no effort to engage Charlotte in polite conversation. His brooding perturbed her and made her first few hours of marriage uncomfortable. She didn’t want him in the carriage, but he certainly couldn’t ride with the servants in the four-carriage caravan heading north.
The cousin made her nervous. No, on second thought, his entire countenance frankly unsettled her. The two men would look more like brothers than cousins with their matching profiles and black hair, except the cousin looked more like a common laborer than a gentleman. His skin was tanned, eyes black as coals, hair unfashionably long, and broad shoulders with the sinewy body of a worker. He spoke only when spoken to, and even then did little more than grunt.
This wild animal trapped in their honeymoon carriage gave her chills. She had this week’s journey to get to know her husband better before entering their new life at Lyonn Manor, but she couldn’t see how that would happen with the beast sharing their space.
The carriage slumped heavily to one side, hitting a rut in the road, and jolted forwards, jerking Drake’s head against his chest. His eyes flew open as he braced himself.
“Is it highwaymen? Are we under attack?” He surged forward to the window only to see placid countryside.
The beast spoke for the first time since they began the trip. “Just a hole in the road, you dolt. Or, more aptly, your snoring probably startled one of the horses.” The brute’s eyes never left the window, his face etched in stone.
Drake roared with laughter and slapped his cousin’s arm. “Too right, old man. Too right.” Turning his eyes on his bride, he smiled wickedly. “How is my wife enjoying the view?”
Charlotte replied, “The meadow flowers are lovely this time of year.”
Drake leaned forward and touched her knee with long, slender fingers. “I didn’t mean the view outside of the window. I meant of me.” He winked, his mischievous expression unmarred by her innocent reply.
She swatted at his hand, eyeing his cousin uneasily. This was hardly proper behavior or conversation in front of company. “I assure you that I know not what you mean.” She hoped her tone sounded appropriately scolding.
“Like hell you don’t. I could feel your eyes on me as I slept, working their way over my svelteness. Do you like what you see?” He swept his hands over his torso in invitation. “I hope so, because you’ll be seeing a lot more of it tonight.” His blue eyes lit with an inner fire before he turned to his cousin and ribbed him jovially. “You’ll have to stuff the linens under the inn’s door, cousin! I’m going to make her scream my name tonight.”
While his cousin only snorted, Charlotte gaped incredulously. Husband or not, how dare he speak to her in this manner? How dare he say such things? How dare he speak like a commoner and to her of all people?
She felt her cheeks burning with the humiliation of it all. That he said it, that he thought it, and that he said it in front of his cousin. Flicking her eyes to the door handle, she felt a sudden impulse to leap out and run back to London.
Her husband clearly didn’t require a response, as he lazily leaned back in his seat, placing his hands behind his head with a smirk of satisfaction before closing his eyes again.
With the heat of her cheeks singeing her skin, Charlotte pressed herself against the cushions, wishing she could disappear into the velvet. Her happily ever after might have been the mistake of the century.
About the Author
Celebrated for her complex characters, realistic conflicts, and sensual love scenes, Paullett Golden has put a spin on historical romance. Her novels, set primarily in Georgian and Regency England with some dabbling in Ireland, Scotland, and France, challenge the norm by involving characters who are loved for their flaws, imperfections, and idiosyncrasies. Her stories show love overcoming adversity. Whatever our self-doubts, love will out.
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