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.”
