St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by MICHELLE MARCOS
Wickedly Ever After
Gentlemen Behaving Badly
When a Lady Misbehaves
PRAISE FOR MICHELLE MARCOS
“Michelle Marcos has a fresh and lively style, and a natural feel for romance…When I want a great historical romance, I’ll reach for anything by Michelle Marcos!”
—Lisa Kleypas, bestselling author of
Love in the Afternoon
“A talented storyteller, Marcos gives a very human face to all her characters.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A bold and creative new voice in the romance world… Marcos is an author to take note of.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Praise for WICKEDLY EVER AFTER
“A scrumptiously sensual and delightfully witty historical romance…I absolutely loved this story. Brimming with mystery, humor, witty repartee, an interesting plot, charismatic characters, and intrigue, this book is a winner! I look forward to reading Ms. Marcos’s future works as well as those she already has out. I highly recommend Wickedly Ever After to anyone looking for a terrific read.”
—Romance Junkies
“4 ½ stars! For this installment of Marcos’s Pleasure Emporium series, the once infamous brothel becomes a school where young ladies learn the art of seduction. Playing on several erotic romance themes and adding her own delicious brand of sensuality, Marcos delivers a fast-paced, sexy tale.”
—Romantic Times BookReviews
“The strong lead characters for which Michelle Marcos is becoming known are also present in this newest of the Pleasure Emporium novels. Wickedly Ever After is a sensual treat for historical romance readers everywhere.”
—A Romance Review
“Richly drawn characters, the spice of desire, and a bit of mystery combine with undeniable emotion to make this a treat you’ll want to savor over and over again.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Praise for GENTLEMEN BEHAVING BADLY
“4 ½ stars! Marcos gives readers another taste of desire and danger, along with an enticing adventure/mystery in the second Pleasure Emporium novel. Strong and likable characters, as well as a unique setting, should have readers longing for her next book.”
—Romantic Times BookReviews
“Michelle Marcos infuses plenty of humor and suspense into this historical tale which readers won’t want to put down.” —Romance Junkies
“A unique and delightful story. For a really enjoyable summer’s fare, readers won’t want to miss Gentlemen Behaving Badly.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A solid gold read!”
—Fresh Fiction
Praise for WHEN A LADY MISBEHAVES
“Debut author Marcos delivers a refreshing, creative take on the typical Regency, carried by the spirited April and buoyed throughout by lively plot twists.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Her heroine is a spunky delight, and her dark, hostile hero is an ideal foil…Marcos displays talents that are sure to grow with each new title.”
—Romantic Times BookReviews
“When a Lady Misbehaves is the first in a bold and original new series by a bold and creative new voice in the romance world. Michelle Marcos is impressive in her debut. The characters in When a Lady Misbehaves are complex and immensely fascinating, the story is imaginative, and the plotting is excellent. Ms. Marcos makes some clever twists on the traditional romance. I highly recommend When a Lady Misbehaves…newcomer Michelle Marcos is an author to take note of.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“This rags-to-riches story by debut author [Marcos] absolutely sizzles. When a Lady Misbehaves is beautifully done and I highly recommend it.”
—Fresh Fiction
“When a Lady Misbehaves is loaded with smolder and charm…It was a joy to read this inventive, sexy, and ultimately moving story.”
—Lisa Kleypas, bestselling author of
Mine Till Midnight
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Social studies. The two most dreaded words of my adolescent school life.
I can still remember how my teeth used to grind whenever it was time to pull out our social studies books to learn about some dead people who did some boring stuff a long time ago. Like everyone else, I had to memorize the preamble to the Constitution (easier if done to the tune of the Schoolhouse Rock song) and be able to identify the funny-looking men whose pictures were on our coins. I skated by with Cs, grateful just to have passed, and contented myself with more interesting classes like English and science—subjects that felt more relevant to me.
But something changed when, decades later, I began to write Secrets to Seducing a Scot. In creating a fictional revolution in Scotland in 1819, my research took me to an event very recent to my story, the American Revolution. Both of these events had, at their roots, similar discontentment with the British government of its day. Suddenly, by putting the characters whom I loved in those unsettling times, the topic began to become very relevant indeed.
I began to look at the American Revolution in a more profound way. I became fascinated by the forces that would lead a largely pacific people to revolt against one of the greatest and most powerful empires the world had ever seen. I went to Washington, D.C., and toured the Smithsonian. I bought a life-size copy of the Declaration of Independence and read it in its original script form. I studied the writings of our founding fathers, and learned the extent of their passion for freedom. I even developed a crush on the humorous and colorful Benjamin Franklin, whose quotes, some may notice, have leaked into this story.
In short, I discovered who those men on our coins were, and understood that to call them “heroes” devalued their humanity. In trying to do what they believed to be right, they faced opposition from their families, their friends, and their king. They didn’t set out to be heroes; in fact, standing up to the established order probably made them wonder if they had a screw loose. They suffered fear, experienced heartache, and endured deprivation. They did so not to be on coins, but because they felt that the goal—freedom from injustice—was more important.
Some lessons are not learned in the classroom. Some lessons take a lifetime to learn. The important thing is that they are learned.
Is it too late to get an A?
Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in Michelle Marcos’s Highland Knaves series
Lessons in Loving a Laird
Coming in 2012 from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Ravens Craig House
Ross-shire, Scotland
Twelve years before
“Mumma?” asked Shona, her pink lips pouting.
Fiona straightened, her unlaced ghillie still clutched in her hand. “Aye?”
“If God made spiders, why did ye try to squoosh that one just now?”
Fiona shook her head as she searched for the beastie beneath the table. It took her a moment to compose an answer for her eight-year-old daughter. “Well, he doesna belong in my kitchen. If the Good Lord made a creature with so many legs, He must’ve meant for it to be ootside where there’s plenty of room to run around.”
Shona’s mouth formed an O as the sense of it dawned on her. Excitedly, she jumped down from the chair. “I’ll take him ootside for ye, Mumma.” Her black hair splayed around her shoulders as she crouched on the wooden floor.
The black spider was no bigger than the tip of her finger, and she watched it slowly climb the leg of the kitchen table. Mumma was cutting tatties and neeps for supper, and it was dangerous for the wee spider to be here. Her younger brother, Camran, was playing on the floor, surrounded by toy king’s men their father had carved. Shona took the empty wooden box and placed it on the floor underneath the spider.
She leaned closer, her large green eyes rounding over the tiny creature. He seemed so alone, so far from home. Everyone should be home with his family. I’ll take ye home, she thought at it, feeling sure he understood he
r. She puckered her lips and blew.
The startled spider let go of the wooden surface, and, supported by a single thread, landed squarely in the wooden box.
“I got him, Mumma!” she shouted excitedly. She lifted the box so her mother could see.
“Well done, Shona,” Fiona cheered flatly, barely able to suppress a shudder. “Mind ye put him ootside where he belongs.”
Her older brother, Malcolm, always kept the woodpile outside well stocked. Shona had seen spiders among the chopped wood, especially around the base of the pile where the logs were oldest. This must be where Wee Spider’s family lived.
Shona upended the box onto the pile, and Wee Spider scampered out and disappeared between the dried logs.
“Ye’ve got too many legs to be in the house,” she said, bouncing an admonishing finger in the air. “Mind ye don’t stray inside again.”
In the distance, beyond the footbridge, she saw three figures approaching. Her father and older brothers were returning from the hunt. From a pole shouldered by Thomas and Hamish swung a large dead boar.
“Mumma!” cried Shona. “Da’s come back!” As she ran through the house shouting the news, she passed her thirteen-year-old brother, Malcolm, who’d been sullenly dragging about the house, moping because he wasn’t allowed to go hunting with them. Her twin sister, Willow, squealed in delight. She dropped the bannock she was shaping and ran out of the house.
Shona wanted to be the first to greet her father, but Willow raced ahead of her down the footpath into John’s arms. John lifted Willow in his meaty arms, swinging her ’round and ’round until she laughed convulsively. Even in the waning light of the setting sun, Shona could see the radiant smile upon her father’s face as he embraced her pretty blond sister.
He carried Willow in the crook of his elbow, her corkscrew tendrils dripping around his cheeks. “Have ye been a good lass, then, Willow?”
“Aye, Da. I made the bannocks for tonight.”
“Happy I am to hear it,” he said as he strode toward their front door. “I’m as hungry as a bear in the springtime. I want them all for m’own!” Willow giggled as he tickled her.
Shona hugged her father around his waist.
“And ye, Shona? Did ye mind yer mother while we were away?”
“I saved a spider.”
“Is that for my dessert?”
Shona laughed gleefully. “He’s not for ye to eat, Da!”
“Oh!” He tousled the black fringe of hair over her forehead.
As they walked across the threshold, Fiona came to greet them, wiping her hands upon her pinafore.
“Happy I am ye’re home,” her mother said as she kissed her father on the mouth, something that always struck Shona as repulsive, even though they always smiled when they did it. “I’m over the moon for ye, John MacAslan.”
“I’ll meet ye there, Fiona MacAslan.”
Her older brothers flopped the boar upon the butchering table, and pulled the pole out from between his tied legs. Malcolm trudged over to see the kill he hadn’t been permitted to make. John promised to take him hunting next year, when Malcolm would be strong enough to hunt boar. Thomas and Hamish pounded Malcolm on the back reassuringly.
Blam! A forceful pounding on the front door startled a scream from her mother. A group of men battered through the door, and began to stream into the house. Their clothes were soaked red and blood caked around their wounds.
Fiona grabbed Shona’s arm, and shoved her behind her along with Willow and Camran. John pulled out his hunting knife and shielded them all from the intruders.
“Who the devil are ye?” demanded his father.
An angry bearded man spoke. “Aye, the de’il indeed. Did you no’ expect a visit from yer own clan? Or did ye think yer cowardice would go unnoticed?”
“Get out!” her father ordered.
The bearded man laughed hollowly. “Ye see that, lads? Now he’s found his balls! Where were they when the clan was musterin’ for battle yesterday, eh? Where were ye?” The bearded man held his sword to her father’s chest.
Fiona turned around and knelt in front of Shona, Willow, and Camran. Her hand was trembling upon Shona’s arm. Shona had never seen her mother so frightened. “Hide yerselves. Go!”
Breathlessly, Shona nodded. She took hold of Camran and shoved him inside the larder cupboard. Willow refused to let go of her mother, her tiny fists balling Fiona’s skirts. Shona yanked at Willow’s hands, and folded her into the cupboard next to their brother. But now there was no more room, so Shona crouched beneath the scullery table.
“I made my case before the chief personally,” John explained. “I have no quarrel with the McBrays—my son Hamish is to be married to a McBray lass. I could not fight them.”
“Ye mean ye would not fight them. Ye and yer tenants would have increased our showing on the battlefield. It may not have come to a head if they had seen us strong in number. But without ye we were outnumbered, and the McBrays saw it. They tore us to strips. The battle was lost in only two hours.”
From beneath the scullery table, Shona could only see the dirty, muddy legs of all the men. Too many legs to be in the house.
“I’m sorry,” she heard her father say.
“Sorry?” A man advanced upon him. “I saw both my sons slain on that battlefield. I found my William with a claymore in his chest. My boy Robert had his neck broken. It took an hour for him to die.” His voice warbled with anguish. “Ye don’t know the depths of sorry yet!”
“I know ye’re grieving,” said her father, “but the blame for yer boys does not rest on me.”
“Aye, it does,” said the bearded man. “His sons’ deaths, as well as every man oot there who lost life or limb, is on yer head. Ye and every man jack of yers who hid with yer womenfolk inside the safety of yer homes. Lads, let it not be said that there is no justice among our clan. An eye for an eye. If Angus here lost two sons, then John must not be allowed to keep his!”
“No!” her mother screamed as she dove in front of her older sons.
Shona heard a crack, and her mother crashed to the floor, clutching her cheek. Then she saw her brother Thomas take a run at the man, just as two more men joined the fray. With his dagger high in the air, her father swung into the mob.
And then everyone was fighting. Her heart pounding in her chest, Shona began to cry.
Fists and daggers flew inside the kitchen for what seemed like forever. She could no longer see her father among all the angry men. Her mother grabbed her kitchen knife and dove on top of a man who was beating Hamish. But one of the angry men grabbed her from behind and called her a bad name. Then he raked his knife across her throat.
Her mother fell to her knees, blood oozing from between the fingers clasped at her throat. Her face was twisted in horror, and she made an odd, gulping sound. Mumma’s pretty yellow frock ran red with blood. Shona watched in terror as her mother’s eyes flew around the room like those of a frightened horse. Finally, Fiona’s gaze landed upon the tear-streaked face of Shona, huddled under the scullery table, and a strange serenity came over her face.
“Mumma,” Shona whispered, the saliva in her mouth stringing between her lips.
But her mother didn’t answer as she fell forward into a pool of her own blood.
Horrified, Shona watched as the lifeblood poured from her mother in an ever-widening pool. The image of her mother’s face blurred as tears crested over Shona’s green eyes. She cringed against the wall as the awful red syrup inched closer and closer.
The yelling and the noises suddenly stopped. The angry men were no longer fighting, only breathlessly talking with each other. Shona’s gaze lifted from her mother to a spot beyond the kitchen table. Her father lay upon the floor, a sgian achlais sticking out from his chest.
Get up, Da, she thought to him, but knew he would not understand. His body only convulsed slower and slower as blood poured from the wound.
Suddenly, a shod foot stepped right in the puddle of her mother’s
blood, and a hand gripped her wrist. She screamed.
A man lifted her into his arms. “Is this the wee mouse ye’re after then? Ye’re a pretty thing, aren’t ye?” he said.
Her despair turned to rage as she beat her fists against the man’s hairy face. The vinegary smell of sweat and hate assaulted her nose. Though Shona was only eight, she was strong, and his head jerked backward with each of her punches. Aggravated, the man dropped her, and she fell hard on the floor. He seized her by the hair, and dragged her over to the fireplace where another man held an iron in the fire.
“Here’s yer first slaighteur, Seldomridge. Burn her.”
Shona tried to pull away, but her hair was wound tightly in the bearded man’s fist, and he wouldn’t let go. The shorter man grabbed her wrist and held it aloft while he aimed the glowing iron at the back of her hand.
Shona struggled against them, but their strength was too mighty. She watched as the iron drew closer to her hand, her fingers splayed impotently. Then she heard a sizzling sound, and pain exploded inside her. She screamed shrilly as the darkening iron seared her skin. She had never known such pain. Or such malice to inflict it.
They let her go, and she ran into the corner. All her insides ached, and no amount of crying was enough to quench the pain. She looked at the back of her hand. Blistering on her skin was a squiggly figure. They had burned a snake onto her hand.
But she soon realized that she wasn’t the only one blubbering, and she could easily hear her twin sister from within the cupboard, her sobs disclosing her hiding place. Instinctively, Shona ran in front of the cupboard, shielding it. But they had already heard—already expected—the presence of her siblings. The bearded man grabbed her by the shoulder of her frock and threw her forward. She landed upon her dead mother.
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