Title: A Marriage of
Inconvenience
Author: Christine Young
Email: achristay@aol.com
Genre: Historical Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
Buy at Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-marriage-of-inconvenience-christine-young/1113879535?ean=2940015795684
A REGAL BEAUTY
When the duchess decides to
wed her to a wastrel and a fop, Ravyn Grahm takes matters into her own hands
and declares her engagement to another man. Instead of fessing up and telling
her great aunt what she has done, she goes through with the pretense. Aric
Lakeland is the bastard son of an earl and has a dangerous reputation. But
Ravyn is willing to do most anything to keep the duchess from discovering the
lie.
A DEVIL-MAY-CARE SMUGGLER
He'd bought land in America,
looking to put down roots and end his life of adventure, but Aric Lakeland got
more than he bargained for when he encountered a beautiful heiress who made a
promise she didn't want to keep. But the promise could not be undone and
standing between them were more obstacles than either ever dreamed. Aric had
made plans to spend the rest of his life in America and that was at odds with
Ravyn's plan of living in England and running her father's estate. Now, he'll
have to choose between his dreams and the woman he loves more than life.
EXCERPT
Aric Lakeland dodged
foot-traffic along the boulevard in a crazy attempt to keep up with the
bouncing erratic carriage he followed. The day was intolerably hot and his mood
was no better. He resented this mission. He’d left a cool pub and a cold brew
to sweat beneath the hot sun.
His idea of fun was not
traipsing after a notorious gambler and womanizer. Nor did he want to baby sit
a spoiled debutante.
Yet, he’d promised. A wave
of guilt washed through him.
Sweat beaded on his
forehead, dripping down his face. He swiped it with the back of his hand and
sidestepped, nearly knocking packages from a lady just exiting a dressmaker’s
shop.
“You owe me, my friend. When
this is done, I will collect,” he swore beneath his breath and began thinking
of all the favors he might ask of his half brother.
The carriage he followed
turned a corner and disappeared from sight. He plowed into a lamppost, swore
again and raced through the crowds. Richy Richmond did not deserve this absurd
protection. Richy could deal with his own affairs. The other part of his half
brother’s request bothered Aric. He did not want anything to happen to the lady
he followed. His half brother had reason to believe Richy might do something to
compromise her. His gut instincts had never been wrong. Ravyn Grahm, cousin to
his half brother’s wife, was in serious trouble.
Richy’s carriage came to an
abrupt halt. Richy jumped from the vehicle. His cane in hand, he strode toward
a dress shop Aric had reason to visit on occasion.
Aric watched, fascinated as
the scene unfolded. He started forward but noticed Richy race to protect the
women Aric followed.
“You ruffians! Get your hands off me!” The white-haried Duchess shrieked, her
age-lined face mottled with rage, pushing at two little guttersnipes who seemed
more intent on shoving the elderly woman around than stealing the packages she
carried.
Ravyn swiped her parasol
across a boy’s head and turned to the other, her eyes blazing, shooting violet
blue sparks.
“Stop it!” she cried out,
raising her parasol again and again. “Take that! And that!”
Amused, Aric leaned against
a lamppost similar to the one he had run into earlier in his race to keep
Richy’s carriage in view.
He crossed his arms over his
chest, grinning as he watched Ravyn batter the boys who had had the audacity to
try and harm the Duchess.
He chuckled, prepared to
step in if needed but it appeared the two women had the situation under
control. Ravyn, he mused, the regal, classy lady who seldom had a hair on her
gorgeous head out of place was decidedly disheveled. Her cheeks were flushed,
her hair flowed beautifully from its perfectly coiffed hairdo. Her jacket
sleeve was torn and to his amazement, she grinned as if she were having the
time of her life.
“Go on, get,” Richy stepped
in, shooing the two boys away. He grabbed hold of one of the boy’s arms and
shook him. “Patrol,” he yelled, looking around for help. The boy stomped on
Richy’s foot. Surprised, Richy let go. “Bloody hell! Come back here. Little brat,” he yelled as
the boy ran off.
Aric cocked an eyebrow,
watching and wondering what would happen next, knowing Richy had a card up his
sleeve. He had not forgotten he was supposed to be watching Richy, nor had he
forgotten the man had suffered innumerable losses at the gaming tables and the
racetrack the last few days and he might do something to Ravyn.
Aric pushed away from the
lamppost and strode toward the women and Richy. He watched Richy change
demeanor. Suddenly instead of rescuer, he was attacker. Aric’s heart stopped
for a moment then raced.
Richy wrenched Ravyn against
him, pulling her close, her arm behind her back, his mouth close to her ear as
if he whispered something to Ravyn.
“Let go,” Ravyn cried out,
twisting and thrashing her arms. It seemed to be the opposite scenario as
moments before. The crowds that had previously closed around the women had now
dissipated.
“Let go,” Ravyn cried
again.
“You’re mine, Ravyn,” Richy
said in a low well-modulated voice. “You should have realized it months ago and
I’d have won the wager. But instead, you ignored me. You taunted me and
sometimes you pretended to care while other times you turned up your pert
little nose when I walked by.”
“What do you think you are
doing? Let go of me!” Ravyn cried out, hatred now in her stormy
violet eyes.
To Aric, she sounded
incredulous, perhaps confused. But strangely, not afraid.
“We--“he paused a
moment--“are going to Gretna Green. We are getting married and I will inherit
your estate. You will be mine.”
