by Monica Burns
It would be nice to solidify their arrangement before returning to the others. She did not want to share this moment with the Duke though her parents would wish to see it.
Grace would be rather pleased with the outcome of today’s tea. Sarah knew her friend hoped for a match. If only it were the love match she herself had always wished for. Perhaps in time, he would come to love her as she had him.
“Very well, let us return to the lion’s den.” Lord Luvington held out his arm.
She gazed at him for a moment but made no attempt to take it. “I would prefer for you to ask for my hand first.”
“As you wish.” He dropped onto one knee. “My dearest Lady Sarah, I cannot imagine going forward through my life without you by my side. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I want you in my home and in my bed from now until the day death parts us.” He grinned rakishly.
His words were eloquent but sent a pain straight to her heart. He did not love her. Theirs would be a union of convenience, nothing more. She swallowed back the pain and forced a grin in spite of it. “I shall be honored to wed you, Lord Luvington.”
I hope you found Sarah and Julian’s first kiss to be gripping and romantic. Purchase Scandalous Intentions today or read it free with Kindle Unlimited.
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About Amanda
Bestselling author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.
Amanda lives along the Lake Huron shoreline in northern Michigan with her husband and two kids. She holds a Master of Liberal Arts Degree with a concentration in literature and has a long-standing love affair with sugary junk food.
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Ewan Cameron, estranged grandson of the Duke of Lotheil, is in London because of a deathbed promise made to his father and has no intention of staying beyond his three month obligation. Nothing can tempt him to remain, not even Lily, the beautiful bluestocking determined not only to restore relations between him and his grandfather, but to turn Ewan into a proper gentleman. Ewan, proud of his Scottish heritage, refuses to admit that Lily, a blue-eyed, English girl, has claimed his heart. It doesn’t matter that his big lump of a sheepdog is madly in love with her. Nor is it significant that Ewan can always tell Lily apart from her identical twin sister. Always.
Lily Farthingale, the scholarly twin, dreams of becoming the first female member of the Royal Society. She grabs at the chance when the elderly Duke of Lotheil approaches her with a proposition - he’ll admit her into the Royal Society, if she helps him to establish a relation with his estranged grandson, Ewan Cameron, a very rough-around-the-edges Scotsman who hates everything English. Between shootings, explosions, and Lily’s abduction, Ewan ends up falling in love with Lily in this Pygmalion-inspired story.
My Fair Lily
By Meara Platt
The First Kiss
“Is she feeling any better?” Lily asked Ewan, rising from her chair in the duke’s library where she had been left to wait for him. After departing Madame de Bressard’s shop, they had climbed into Eloise’s carriage—the one loaned to her and Meggie for their shopping outing—and gone straight to Lotheil Court. The carriage was still waiting outside. She could have used it to return home, but she wanted to stay close at hand until Ewan assured her that Meggie was settled in her bedchamber and moderately calmed down.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “She’s a little better. I’ll take you home now, lass. I ought to have done it first.”
“No, Meggie was hysterical and it was important to take care of her right away.” She had been happy to wait in the library, at first thinking to skim through the duke’s vast array of books. Ewan had also ordered refreshments for her, but she hadn’t touched them. Nor could she concentrate. So while he was upstairs with his sister, she settled in one of the overstuffed chairs beside the massive hearth and did nothing but stare into the fire. She’d needed the warmth of the flames to chase the cold that had set into her bones after the incident with his cousins.
“You don’t look all that well yourself, Lily.” He knelt beside her, offering the glass of warm milk still sitting on the silver tray beside her. “Drink this. It’s laced with a smooth, aged whiskey to help calm your nerves. Have you ever had spirits before?”
“Of course,” she said, though she hadn’t really. Nothing more than a mild champagne was all that had ever touched her lips. She took the glass from his hand with a muttered thanks and managed a sip. Ugh! It was vile.
He let out a pained laugh. “Och, Lily. Drink it slowly.”
She nodded and took another, more careful sip.
“Better?”
She nodded again, for he was kneeling beside her and gently stroking his thumb along the palm of her hand. She took another sip. More of a gulp. Actually three gulps. She gagged, then let out a strangled cough.
Sighing, Ewan removed the glass from her hand and set it on a nearby table. “Excellent, lass. I think you’ve had enough. Let me take that from you.” He remained beside her, his expression tense and worried. “How is your shoulder?”
Painful. Throbbing. “It’s just fine.”
“I’ll take you home now.”
“No need. Eloise’s carriage is just outside.”
“Lass, if ye think I’m going to let ye ride back alone, well, think again. And I’ll stay with ye until I’m sure your uncle has tended to yer injuries and confirmed no broken bones.” His face was close to hers, his brow furrowed, and his brogue thick and husky, those deep, melodic tones as soothing to her insides as that vile concoction of warm milk and whiskey that now had her entire body buzzing. Like a little bee. A little drunk bee.
A very drunk bee.
Which explained her next inexplicable actions. And had she been sober (alas, she wasn’t, for the whiskey had roared through her bloodstream like a raging current), she never would have closed her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him squarely on the mouth, that beautifully shaped mouth almost hidden by the auburn bristles of his beard. But she did close her eyes, pucker her lips, and let out that breathy moan as her lips touched his. There was no taking it back. Not that she wanted to. Goodness, no. His mouth felt exquisitely warm against hers, and the soft, bristled hairs of his beard tickled her nose.
A delightful heat welled within her as Ewan deepened the kiss. Or was she the one doing all the kissing? Then something less delightful welled within her... rather, it heaved upward from the bowels of her stomach. She heaved again.
Ewan unlocked his lips from hers. “Och, lass.” He reached for one of the duke’s priceless Chinese urns that stood beside the hearth and stuck it under her chin at the same instant she gave a third and final heave that thrust everything she’d eaten since the day she was born—nineteen years worth of digested food and stomach juices—in a perfect arc into that urn.
Purchase My Fair Lily for iBooks
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About Meara
Meara Platt is happily married to her Russell Crowe look-alike husband, and they have two terrific children. She lives in one of the many great towns on Long Island, New York and loves it, except for the traffic. She has traveled the world, works as managing partner in a boutique law firm in NYC, occasionally lectures and finds time to write. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her Romance Writers of America Golden Heart award winning story. Learn more about Meara, or download a free Farthingale novella, by visiting www.mearaplatt.com.
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