by Nina Rowan
He tightened his hold on her, even as his muscles corded with restraint. Talia dared to part her lips beneath his, both shocked and thrilled by her own boldness. Her blood coursed hot and swift through her veins as the warm, sugary taste of James filled her senses. He moved his hands to her waist, his body still rigid. His fingers dug into the fabric of her bodice as if he sought the strength to push her away.
And then, suddenly, he surrendered. A groan escaped him as his mouth opened to hers in a deep union that flooded with desire. Talia closed her eyes and sank into the kiss, savoring the sensation of being in his arms, his mouth locked to hers.
Sweet, delicious relief and yearning filled her heart. She unclenched her hand from his shirt and spread it across his chest, imagining what his taut, bare skin would feel like beneath her palm. She arched her body against his, emboldened by his capitulation and the coil of arousal wrapping around them…
James broke away from her. He stumbled back, his breathing hard and his eyes brewing with shock and unfulfilled passion.
Talia stared at him, her heart thumping. She pressed her fingers to her reddened lips, where the taste of him lingered.
“Bloody hell, Talia.” James’s voice was hoarse, jagged. He turned away and dragged a hand through his hair. “This cannot happen. This will not happen.”
Somehow, she managed to speak. “It did happen, James.”
He spun around to glare at her, his jaw set with frustration. “You are Northwood’s sister, for God’s sake!”
Tension lanced through Talia’s spine. She lifted her chin and sought the enviable pride that her mother had always embodied, the cool dignity Talia knew that she, too, possessed somewhere deep inside.
“I am far more than Northwood’s sister, James,” she said, leveling her voice to a flat, composed tone. “I am Lady Talia Hall. I am the only daughter of the Earl of Rushton. Even in the shadow of scandal, I am sought after by any number of peers, but I am offering myself to you without reservation. I want to be with you, James. I’ve wanted nothing else for—”
“Stop.” The command snapped from him with such force that Talia retreated a step. James cursed again and pressed his hands to his eyes. He paced to the windows.
“I’ll never get married, Talia, to you or anyone else,” he said, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “Even if I did wish to wed, how could I subject a wife to a marriage in which her husband is gone months or years at a time?”
“You don’t…” Talia swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. Her future began to unfurl before her, bleak and empty. “You don’t have to leave so often, James. And someday you’ll have to—”
“I’ll have to what?” He spun to face her. “I’ll have charge of the estate, yes, but I never intended to beget my own heir because I won’t stay in England. I’m not meant for marriage, Talia, no matter how…appealing the offer might be.”
An ache constricted Talia’s heart. “You mean to tell me you’ll never return to London for good?”
“I’ve no intentions of doing so.” Some of the irritation appeared to drain from him as he approached her. His voice softened. “Talia, there’s so much to see in the world. So much to explore. I want to find the source of the Nile. I want to journey to Greenland one day. I want to map the interior of Australia and head an expedition to find geological specimens in China. It will take years to do everything I want to.”
“And then when you’re finally finished with your expeditions, you’ll be a lonely old man with no one to care for you or love you,” Talia snapped.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Shocked by the vehemence of her own words, she stared at James in mute apology.
A smile tugged at his lips. He reached out and brushed a tendril of loose hair away from her neck. The light touch of his fingers sent tingles of awareness through her blood.
“And you,” he said, “will be a cherished wife and a beloved mother. You will have an enormous circle of friends who value you beyond measure. You will be married to the love of your life.”
You are the love of my life.
Her heart crushed like a piece of paper within a tight fist. Nothing would keep James in England. Not even her.
“Please, Talia.” James lifted her face so she had to look at him. Self-directed anger darkened his brown eyes. “Don’t give me the gift of your love. I won’t do anything good with it. Save your heart for a man who truly deserves it.”
Talia clenched her back teeth together, fighting a sting of tears. Never before had James indicated he thought himself unworthy of anything, least of all a woman’s love. Part of her wanted to argue, to force him to understand that she would not have offered herself to him had she not known his value.
But Talia did have her mother’s pride, uncultivated though it might be. If James did not want her heart, then she would take it back.
“Very well.” She pulled away from the burn of his touch and crossed the room, clutching his still-warm coat around her body.
At the door, she paused. He stood by the sideboard, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets and his shoulders slumped. His hair fell in a disheveled mess across his forehead. A twist of longing, of love, went through Talia but she pushed it down beneath the layer of cold already creeping over her soul.
“James, I ask only that you keep my…my behavior a confidence between us.”
“Talia, I would die before causing you embarrassment or shame.” James cleared his throat. “No one will know of this. If…when I return, we will carry on as we did before.”
“Agreed.” Talia pulled open the door, turning away from him as her heart broke in half. “Best of luck on your expedition then, James. I hope you find what you seek.”
Because now I never will.
Talia hurried back to her room, blinded by tears.
THE DISH
Where Authors Give You the Inside Scoop
From the desk of Debra Webb
Dear Reader,
It’s very exciting to be back again this month with RAGE, the fourth installment of the Faces of Evil series.
Writing a series can be a challenge. There are many threads related to the plots and the characters that have to be kept in line and moving forward (sometimes the characters like to go off on paths of their own!). Former Special Agent Jess Harris and Birmingham Chief of Police Dan Burnett have their hands full as usual. Murder hits close to home in this story and takes us to the next level of evil: rage. We’ve explored obsession, impulse, and power already and there are many more to come. The face of evil is rarely easy to spot. But Jess and Dan won’t rest until they solve the case and ensure the folks of Birmingham are safe.
While I was writing this story, a new character joined the cast. I wasn’t expecting a new character to appear on the page and demand some special attention, but Dr. Sylvia Baron, Jefferson County associate coroner, has a mind of her own. She stepped onto the page in her designer stilettos and her elegant business attire and told me exactly what she wanted to do. From hello Jess and Sylvia butt heads. The two keep Dan on his toes!
I hope you’ll stop by www.thefacesofevil.com and visit with me. There’s a weekly briefing each Friday where I talk about what’s going on in my world and with the characters as I write the next story. You can sign up as a person of interest and you might just end up a suspect!
Enjoy the story and be sure to look for Revenge coming in July and Ruthless in August!
Happy reading!
From the desk of Roxanne St. Claire
I packed a lot of emotional themes and intense subjects into my writer’s beach bag when I penned BAREFOOT IN THE SUN, from faith and trust to life-threatening illness and life-altering secrets. The Happily Ever After is hard-won and bittersweet, but that seems to come with the Barefoot Bay territory. The heroine, Zoe Tamarin, has to overcome a tendency to run away when life goes south, and the hero, Oliver Bradbury, must learn that, despite his talents as a doctor, he can’t fix everything. During their reunion roma
nce, Zoe and Oliver grow to understand the power of a promise, the joy of a second chance, and the awesome truths told by Mother Nature.
But this is Barefoot Bay, so it can’t be all heartache and healing!
In lighter moments, Oliver and Zoe play. They kiss (a lot), they laugh (this is Zoe!), they swim (some might call it skinny dipping), and occasionally Zoe whips out her deck of cards for a rockin’ round of Egyptian Rat Screws (ERS).
I’ve mentioned Zoe’s penchant for ERS in other books, and readers have written to ask about the card game. Many want to know the origin of the name, which, I have to admit, is a complete mystery to me, as the game has nothing to do with Egypt, rodents, or hardware of any kind. The secret of the name is one of many aspects of the game that reminds me of Zoe… a character who reveals in the opening scene of BAREFOOT IN THE SUN that she’s not the person everyone believes she is.
Like the woman who loves to play it, Egyptian Rat Screws is fast-paced, intense, and not for the faint of heart, but I promise a good time. So grab a deck, a partner, and your most colorful curses, and I’ll teach you the two-person version. ERS can also be played with more people, but I find one-on-one is the most intense… like any good romance, right?
The object of the game is simple: The winner ends up holding the whole deck. Of course, play can easily be transformed into something even wilder, such as Strip Rat Screws (Oliver’s favorite) or Drinking Rat Screws, a game our four best friends, Tessa, Lacey, Jocelyn, and Zoe, played a few times in college.
Before playing, the players face each other across a table and choose who goes first. Player One is selected arbitrarily—closest birthday, rock-paper-scissors, or the ever popular “least hormonal.” Leading off is no advantage, so save your voice for more important arguments, because there will be many. Each player gets twenty-six well-shuffled cards and may not look at them.
To begin, Player One flips the first card face-up on the table. If this card is a 2 through 10, Player Two puts her first card on top of the card on the table. Again, if that card is a number card, Player Two goes again.
The action begins when either player puts down a Jack, Queen, King, or Ace. When a face card is revealed, the other player must try to “beat” it by placing another face card of equal or higher value on top of it. Depending on the face card Player One has put down, Player Two has only a certain number of tries to beat it: one for a Jack, two for a Queen, three for a King, and four for an Ace.
If Player Two can’t beat the face card in her allotted number of tries, Player One gets all the cards on the table. (“Strip” ERS losers would shed one article of clothing; drinkers, take a gulp.)
If Player Two lays down another face card in her allotted tries, then Player One has the same number of tries to beat that card. (If more than two players are in the game, just keep moving around the table.) It’s not uncommon for the pile to grow to five or even ten cards, which results in a constant shift of power as each play becomes more and more valuable.
That’s it. Oh, except for the slap rule. And I don’t mean each other. When two of the same card is laid on the pile consecutively, the first player to notice can “slap” the pile and gets to keep all the cards in it. This is why it is very important that a player lays down his or her card without looking at it.
In the case of a simultaneous slap, whoever is on the bottom gets the pile. (Hint: Remove rings and clip nails; there can be blood!)
When I step back and look at the many aspects of Zoe’s character, it’s no surprise ERS is her favorite card game. In many ways, this riotous game is much like Zoe herself: hilarious, unpredictable, fast, wild, addictive, and irresistible fun. Enjoy!
From the desk of Nina Rowan
Dear Reader,
“I want to write about Victorian robots,” Fanciful Nina said as she ate another chocolate bon-bon.
“Huh?” Serious Nina looked up from alphabetizing the spice rack. “You’re writing a historical romance. Not a paranormal. Not steampunk.”
“But look at this,” Fanciful Nina persisted, clicking on the website of the Franklin Institute. “Here’s a robot… okay, an automaton, to use the historically correct term, called the Draughtsman-Writer. It was an actual invention by the eighteenth-century Swiss engineer Henri Maillardet, and it can produce four drawings and three poems in both French and English. Look, you can watch a video of it! How cool is that?”
“You can’t just write about something because it’s cool.” Serious Nina arranged the paprika, parsley, and peppercorn bottles. “You have to have a reason.”
“Coolness is a reason.”
“Coolness is a reason for a teenager to wear ear-cuffs. You are writing a historical romance novel. You need much more than coolness as a basis for your story. You need intense conflict, sexual attraction, danger, and agonizing goals that tear your characters apart before they overcome all obstacles and live happily ever after.”
“But—”
Serious Nina frowned. “Focus and figure it out. Conflict. Emotions. Anguish. Happy ending. No robots.”
“Okay, there’s a war going on, right?” Fanciful Nina pushed aside her bon-bons and hauled out her research books. “Rich with possibilities for conflict and emotion. Did you know that in 1854, scientist Charles Wheatstone invented a machine that transmitted messages in cipher? It drew the attention of Baron Playfair, who thought encoded messages would be useful during the Crimean War, and they submitted the machine to the British Foreign Office. How cool is…”
“No,” Serious Nina said firmly. “No cool.”
“How interesting is that?” Fanciful Nina amended.
“May I remind you that you’re writing about Sebastian Hall?” Serious Nina put a bottle of rosemary before the sage. “Sebastian is a musician, a free spirit, a gregarious, talented fellow who loves to perform and enjoy himself. He doesn’t care about robots or cipher machines. His brother Darius, on the other hand…”
“But what if Sebastian has to care about a cipher machine?” Fanciful Nina reached for another bon-bon. “What if something happens that makes him lose his fun-loving attitude? Omigod, what if something happens that makes him lose his career?”
Serious Nina blinked. “You would make Sebastian lose his career?”
“You’re the one who said ‘anguish.’ What if his right hand is permanently injured?”
“But… but Sebastian is so dreamy. So devilishly handsome. Why would you do that to him?”
“So that he’s forced to find a new purpose.” Fanciful Nina jumped up and started pacing. “What if Sebastian has to stop focusing on himself for once in his life in order to help someone who needs him? Like his brother? Or Clara? Or his brother and Clara?”
“Well…”
Fanciful Nina clapped her hands. “What if Darius knows something is wrong? Being a mechanical-minded fellow, he’s seeking secret plans for a machine that could be used in wartime. And because encoding machines and automata often have similar mechanisms, the plans are hidden in the Museum of Automata where Clara lives. So Sebastian has to approach Clara because he promised to help Darius, only he can’t tell her what he needs. And he doesn’t yet know that Clara has a desperate, heart-wrenching goal of her own. And Sebastian is the only person who can help her attain it!”
Fanciful Nina raised her arms in victory. “Conflict. Anguish. Strong goals. Very hot, sexy attraction. I’ll figure out the happy ending later.”
Serious Nina was silent. She picked at the label of a turmeric bottle.
“What?” Fanciful Nina frowned. “It’s good.”
“But does Sebastian have to lose his career?”
“He’ll find his way back to music,” Fanciful Nina said reassuringly. “I promise.”
“With Clara.”
“Of course! Their love is so powerful that they create a new and exhilarating future together. With lots of steamy lovemaking.”
Serious Nina put the turmeric bottle back into place on the rack.
“Okay,” she
finally agreed. “That’s cool.”
Happy Reading!
From the desk of Jane Graves
Dear Reader,
Our cat, Isabel, is a rescue kitty. She had it rough her first few years, but after living with her foster mom for several months, she was ready to be adopted. She was so sweet and engaging in spite of what had happened to her that we bonded instantly. Her foster mom was delighted that I was a writer, which meant someone was home all day every day to cater to Isabel's every whim. As she put it, “She hit the jackpot!”
As an animal lover, I’m always on the lookout for romance novels that feature pets. So when I was deciding what to write next, I wanted to include pets in a big way. Then I read a popular legend that revolves around pets—the Legend of the Rainbow Bridge—and I knew I’d found the basis for my new series. According to the legend, there’s a spirit world tied to earth, inhabited by beloved pets who’ve passed to the other side. With all earthly age and disease erased, they wait in this transitional paradise for their human companions to join them. After a joyful reunion, together they cross the Rainbow Bridge to heaven.
From there, I created Rainbow Valley, a small town deep in the Texas Hill Country, which is considered to be the home of the mythical Rainbow Bridge and bills itself as the most pet-friendly town in America. The first book, COWBOY TAKE ME AWAY, revolves around the Rainbow Valley Animal Shelter, a place where animals like Isabel get a second chance to find a loving home.
As I write this, Isabel is asleep in my lap. She weighs approximately a thousand pounds these days and makes my legs fall asleep, but how can I tell her to move? We’re here to make her life better than the life she knew before. I don’t know if the legend is true or not. But I do know that the spirit of the legend—that of enduring love—couldn’t be more appropriate for a romance novel. And I like the idea that someday, when I leave this world, she just might be waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge.
