Author: Christine Young
Email: achristay@aol.com
Genre:
Historical Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
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.”
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