by Cheryl Holt
Evangeline smiled. “That’s fabulous news, Bryce. I mean, Lord Radcliffe.”
“I’ll call you Radcliffe,” Michael said, “so long as you don’t grow annoyingly cocky about it.”
“And I will call you Radcliffe,” Matthew said, “no matter how you act. As far as I’m concerned, you can be as cocky as you want.”
From over at the children’s table, King Nicholas stood. “Lord Radcliffe, might we have the servants start serving supper? Your guests are getting quite hungry.”
“A fine idea, Your Majesty,” Lord Radcliffe replied. “Let’s eat. Let’s eat together—as a family.”
The four Blair siblings walked to the front of the room.
* * * *
Lord Radcliffe strolled outside to tarry under the gates of his castle. He’d felt the need to survey his domain, to remind himself it was real. He perused the lush landscape, the rolling hills, the thick forests. Through the trees, he could see the church steeple in the village, could see smoke from chimneys as the day began.
It was a gray morning, the ground white. It had snowed all night and was still snowing lightly. It was very quiet, very peaceful.
He’d been away for almost two years. He’d gone to travel the roads his father had traveled. He’d viewed sights he’d never imagined, had lived through dangers he probably shouldn’t have survived. He’d learned to fight and win, had killed and maimed, had loved and wed and taken on the responsibility of raising another man’s children, and not just any children, but royal children.
The prior months had been exhausting and exhilarating. The mad trip from Parthenia had been wild and perilous, but filled with joy too. He and his wife had come home to the spot that would always be theirs, the spot where they would always belong. They would never be alone again, would never stand isolated, without friends or allies. They had each other now.
Christmas Day had been perfect. He’d married Katarina again and had hosted his first banquet in the main hall. His father’s and mother’s portraits were hanging on the wall. Their ghosts had visited.
He was happy, but sad too, and the sadness never really left him. In some ways, he would always be that five-year-old boy on the dock in London, wailing with dismay as the guards had forced his mother onto the ship. He would always be that little boy who’d tried to prevent Etherton’s servants from leaving with the twins. He’d always be the little boy who’d given his sister their mother’s ivory statue so he could use it to identify her should he be able to find her in the future.
He’d journeyed to Egypt to figure out what he should do with his life, to figure out the man he was meant to be. But he hadn’t needed to trek so far to discover the truth. He was the son of Julian and Anne Blair, and that’s all he’d ever needed to comprehend about himself.
He peered down the road that led to the village. There was a woman walking toward him. She was wearing a heavy cloak, her wool-lined boots kicking at the snow, the sound of her crunching feet echoing in the silent air. Her hood was up, so he couldn’t see her face, but she was small in stature, short and slender.
There was a man with her, walking slightly behind as if he was a servant or companion. He was a bit younger than Lord Radcliffe, and he was dressed all in black, like a pirate or a bandit. Lord Radcliffe didn’t know him and, not liking strangers to approach unannounced, he frowned.
They seemed a peculiar couple to be out so early when everyone else was just breaking their fast. What could have lured them out on such a cold, snowy morning?
The woman stopped and studied the castle. She hadn’t noticed Lord Radcliffe watching her, and he wondered as to her purpose.
She glanced over her shoulder and murmured to the man who was with her. He nodded stoically and gestured for her to continue on. She turned toward Lord Radcliffe again, and she lowered her hood.
She was older, perhaps fifty or so. Her hair had once been blond, but it had whitened to a striking silver color. She wore an odd pair of spectacles, the lenses tinted.
Finally she saw him. For an eternity, they were frozen in place, and as Lord Radcliffe assessed her, a surprising sense of recognition settled in. She was someone he knew. She was someone he had always known. She was someone for whom he’d always been searching, someone who had come to find him. And she had.
He stared and stared, breathless as she reached up and removed her spectacles. She swiped at her eyes, and he realized she was crying. But he also realized that her eyes were very, very blue.
“Mother?” he gasped, and he began to run.
THE END
CHERYL HOLT is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon “Top 100” bestselling author who is currently celebrating the release of her fortieth novel.
She’s also a lawyer and mom, and at age forty, with two babies at home, she started a new career as a commercial fiction writer. She’d hoped to be a suspense novelist, but couldn’t sell any of her manuscripts, so she ended up taking a detour into romance where she was stunned to discover that she has a knack for writing some of the world’s greatest love stories.
Her books have been released to wide acclaim, and she has won or been nominated for many national awards. She is considered to be a master of the romance genre, and for many years, she was hailed as, “The Queen of Erotic Romance.” She is also renowned as, “The International Queen of Villains.” She is particularly proud to have been named “Best Storyteller of the Year” by the trade magazine Romantic Times BOOK Reviews.
She lives and writes in Hollywood, California, and she loves to hear from fans. Visit her website at www.cherylholt.com.
Praise for New York Times Bestselling Author
CHERYL HOLT
“Best storyteller of the year…”
Romantic Times Magazine
“A master writer…”
Fallen Angel Reviews
“The Queen of Erotic Romance…”
Book Cover Reviews
“Cheryl Holt is magnificent…”
Reader to Reader Reviews
“From cover to cover, I was spellbound. Truly outstanding…”
Romance Junkies
“A classic love story with hot, fiery passion dripping from every page. There’s nothing better than curling up with a great book and this one totally qualifies.”
Fresh Fiction
“This is a masterpiece of storytelling. A sensual delight scattered with rose petals that are divinely arousing. Oh my, yes indeedy!”
Reader to Reader Reviews
Praise for Cheryl Holt’s “Lord Trent” trilogy
“A true guilty pleasure!”
Novels Alive TV
“LOVE’S PROMISE can’t take the number one spot as my favorite by Ms. Holt—that belongs to her book NICHOLAS—but it’s currently running a close second.”
Manic Readers
“The book was brilliant…can’t wait for Book #2.”
Harlie’s Book Reviews
“I guarantee you won’t want to put this one down. Holt’s fast-paced dialogue, paired with the emotional turmoil, will keep you turning the pages all the way to the end.”
Susana’s Parlour
“…A great love story populated with many flawed characters. Highly recommend it.”
Bookworm 2 Bookworm Reviews
BOOKS BY CHERYL HOLT
HEART’S DEMAND
HEART’S DESIRE
HEART’S DELIGHT
WONDERFUL
WANTON
WICKED
SEDUCING THE GROOM
LOVE’S PERIL
LOVE’S PRICE
LOVE’S PROMISE
SWEET SURRENDER
THE WEDDING
MUD CREEK
MARRY ME
LOVE ME
KISS ME
SEDUCE ME
KNIGHT OF SEDUCTION
NICHOLAS
DREAMS OF DESIRE
TASTE OF TEMPTATION
PROMISE OF PLEASURE
SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL
&
nbsp; DOUBLE FANTASY
FORBIDDEN FANTASY
SECRET FANTASY
TOO WICKED TO WED
TOO TEMPTING TO TOUCH
TOO HOT TO HANDLE
FURTHER THAN PASSION
DEEPER THAN DESIRE
MORE THAN SEDUCTION
COMPLETE ABANDON
ABSOLUTE PLEASURE
TOTAL SURRENDER
LOVE LESSONS
MOUNTAIN DREAMS
MY TRUE LOVE
MY ONLY LOVE
MEG’S SECRET ADMIRER
THE WAY OF THE HEART