A Tarnished Heart
© 2010 Leslie Dicken
The Earl of Markham’s life is unraveling before his eyes. The harder he tries to pick up the frayed ends, the quicker his carefully guarded control slips from his iron grasp. Five years after the death of his wife, the threat of blackmail hangs over his son’s inheritance.
His only hope to quell the gossip before it begins lies in a headstrong young commoner as wild and free as the English countryside she loves. She is wrong for him in every way. Yet she brings life to his colorless world—and warms his heart with a fire that threatens to shatter the wall around his heart.
Lizzie Parker is content with her garden, her village and caring for her aging father. She wants no part of the glittering London Season, but her father will not be denied his wish to see to her future. Still, she plans to do everything in her power to vex the man charged with taking her away from her beloved home. The man who once broke her heart. Markham.
She never expected his kisses to tame her resistance. With each touch he rouses her senses, until suddenly she’s not at all sure where she belongs…
Warning: Blackmail! (oh my) Secrets! (oh my) Love Scenes! (oh oh my) and even a trip to the magnificent Crystal Palace in London. You won't be able to put this one down.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Tarnished Heart:
Lizzie picked up her pace, biting back hot tears.
“Miss Parker! Come back here.”
Instead she lifted her chin and continued.
Markham’s now familiar growl echoed behind her.
“Lizzie! Wait for me,” Edmund called.
But she wasn’t going to slow down for him, either. Home. It was all she ever wanted. What a fool she’d been to venture into the village when she could be spending every moment with her father.
Clopping horses approached, then the animals reared to a noisy stop and the door swung open beside her. Before she could react, Markham climbed down the steps and lifted her like a sack of feathers.
“Put me down, you boar.”
Edmund yelled for her, but it mattered little against a man the size of Markham.
Her captor dropped her onto the seat cushion, yanked the door closed, and rapped on the wall. Within seconds, the vehicle sprang forward. The dowager wasn’t there.
“How dare you? You think because there is no chaperone you can carry me off like a barbarian?” Her pulse leaped at her throat, an anxious pacing tiger trapped within a cage.
Markham settled into the seat opposite her, his black hair in disarray like a horse’s mane. “It is time to return to London.” The blasted man was not even out of breath.
“But I’ve not spent enough time with my father.”
His dark stare glinted with restrained emotions. “It is not my fault you chose to squander your time, Miss Parker.”
“Squander my time.” The nerve of him. “And that gives you the right to lift me off the ground and kidnap me?”
“You were being stubborn, as usual.”
Oh, that man and his bloody self-importance. “I’ll show you stubborn.”
She reached for the door handle but Markham’s powerful fingers clamped down on her wrist. Without letting go, he moved onto her side, pushing her away from the door.
“I won’t have you leaping out.” The words tickled down her spine, spiked awareness deep in her core. Her breasts ached, nipples tightened.
His spicy, foreign scent washed over her in a conquering wave of dizziness.
“Let me go.”
Markham leaned closer, his penetrating eyes halting her resistance. Her breath stilled as those perfectly formed lips hovered just inches from her face. She could see every nuance of his skin, every fine line around his eyes. “Apparently, you don’t know with whom you are dealing.”
Her eyes narrowed, a flush racing up her neck. “But I do know…a rude, boorish, self-absorbed peer who thinks he can manipulate people however he pleases.”
He showed no reaction, damn him. “And you are a foolish country girl who has no gratitude for the opportunities she’s been given.”
“Opportunities. What do you know of my dreams?”
“Oh, I know of your dreams but I can’t tolerate thinking of you with him.”
Markham’s jaw snapped shut. His gaze shuttered from surprise to detached to unreadable so quickly Lizzie barely had time to recognize their meanings. Had he not meant to say that out loud? Could it be possible that Markham harbored some feeling for her?
She squeezed her eyes closed but the last sight of his kissable lips lingered in her vision. If only he would move off her. How could she think of Edmund, remain true to him, if this man drove her to such stretches of distraction—or such ranges of passion?
The weight on the cushion shifted, causing the seat to squeak. A terrible sense of emptiness filled her as she expected him to move away. But his scent drew nearer to saturate her senses, his one hand held firm to her arm. Despite the loud rumbling wheels, his breathing echoed in her ears.
Then his warm fingers brushed her cheek and no sound could penetrate the thundering of her heart.
Markham swallowed, certain she could hear his pulse hammering.
Passion flared in his veins. Jealousy, anger, desire careened and shattered within his blood, like a small boat upon a raging river. His flesh throbbed for her, his heart drummed.
If seeing her in the arms of Edmund Greene wasn’t enough to begin his quest for her heart, having her slender body beneath him was. And, yet, if his damn stepmother hadn’t insisted on calling upon friends this morning, she’d be here. Her presence would keep his wayward urges in check.
But she wasn’t here. Not yet. And Markham couldn’t help but sweep his gaze down the length of her. The rapid rise and fall of her breasts brought his erection to full attention.
A faint scent of roses hovered, intoxicating him, pulling him under a spell of hazy lust.
Markham lifted one of her vibrant curls and wrapped it around a finger. He envisioned the strand wet, drops of water slipping down his skin. He licked his lips, but then dropped the curl as if it would burn him.
He’d make this girl fall in love with him. He wouldn’t fail his father. He’d not allow his heritage to vanish or for Lucas to live in shame. She aroused him in ways he’d never imagined, piqued his curiosities, enlightened his mind and enraged his passions.
Markham released the grip on her wrist and cupped her face with both hands. Before they even reached Oxford, Miss Parker would be under his spell.
Her vivid green eyes burst open. “No.”
Markham searched for shadows in her gaze, those secrets that kept him at bay. But anticipation and yearning overpowered her resolution. She revealed herself too easily. Despite any resistance, this fairy craved his touch.
“No, what, Miss Parker?”
Her pink tongue ran along the inside of her lips, moistening them, tempting him. “Whatever it is you’re about to do. Don’t.”
He lifted her chin. “Are you so sure about that?”
“No…yes.”
“It seems you are uncertain.”
“You can’t…you can’t do this to me.”
“Do what? Kiss you? Do you really wish me to stop?” Markham brushed his thumb across her lips. Her protests silenced as her eyes drifted closed again as if commanded by his touch.
Her lips parted. “Please…”
Her warm breath invited him to lower his mouth to hers. He kissed her lips delicately, tasted her sweetness, swallowed her sighs.
A surrendering whimper escaped from her throat.
Intensity exploded. Swells of need crashed against his skin, into his scorching arousal, even within his very bones. He slid his way inside her mouth, searching for the velvety smoothness of her tongue. She tasted like honey and hyacinth and all that reminded him of the countryside.
Her fingertips brushed his shoulders. The devil. He wanted her to touch him. Touch him everywhere with those tiny hands, gracefu
l as a butterfly’s wings.
He ravaged her mouth, drank in her spirit, indulged his desires. She responded with an equal hunger, her tongue stroking his, her back arching. Shudders wracked through him, his nipples puckered.
Markham trailed his lips down her neck, where her heartbeat leaped against his tongue. His hands itched to capture her breasts, knead them with his fingers.
His erection throbbed, desperate for the heat of her body, or even the touch of her tiny hands.
His craving for this tempting pixie bewildered him, and yet he could think of nothing he wanted more. If only he could push her down onto this cushion and remove every piece of clothing, every barrier between his skin and hers. He could thrust himself deep inside and find heaven.
But heaven must wait. He could not take her body, discover her secrets, until he’d secured her heart.
Markham wrenched himself from the nectar in his grasp. He let her go so suddenly that she slumped against the seat, eyes opening in surprise. Stark vulnerability contrasted against the bright flush of her cheeks. Devil, she may have let him continue. And then he would be the very rake he so despised.
Without a word, he slid across to the other side. He waited for her sharp tongue, for the assault. But she only said, “Have-have you retrieved my items from my father?” The words trembled.
He nodded, unable to trust his own voice.
She stared at him. “Why, Markham? Why did you kiss me when you despise me so?”
He said nothing. He could not tell her that he feared her heart would remain locked away for the curate, when the stinging ache to have her dulled his reason. Nor could he say that to protect his son’s future, she must fall in love with him. He could not give her the answers she sought.
Right now, he could give her nothing.
They stared at one another until rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof. Soon, Markham could see the familiar shadows darkening her eyes. Then, she bit her lower lip and finally turned away.
When the dowager joined them only a short time later, Miss Parker’s silence turned into the light, even breaths of sleep.
A panther. A prince. A promise. Can destiny tie the knot?
Gypsy Legacy: The Earl
© 2009 Denise Patrick
Gypsy Legacy, Book 3
During a magical childhood summer, a gypsy woman gave Lady Amanda Cookeson a black panther statuette, promising that the man who came to claim it would also claim her heart. Amanda believes the Earl of Wynton is the prince she has awaited. Yet his reluctance to declare them anything more than friends leaves her wondering if she waited in vain.
If he wasn’t the last of his line, Jon Kenton, Earl of Wynton, wouldn’t marry at all. Since leaving his inheritance to the Crown is out of the question, however, he is compelled to search for the statuette his great-grandmother promised him. His quest leaves him empty handed—and secretly relieved. Finding the statuette would mean embracing the gypsy roots he has long denied.
Amanda is perfect countess material: lovely, admirable and—he thinks—statueless. Their passion is unquenchable…until the gypsy magic Jon thought he’d buried nearly destroys his future with Amanda.
Warning: Trying to outrun your destiny is dangerous to your beloved’s health, but a little bit of the right drug goes a long way.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Gypsy Legacy: The Earl:
“Lady Huddleston must be ecstatic.” Felicia met Amanda near the top of the stairs leading down to the ballroom. “I wouldn’t have thought she could squeeze so many people into one place.”
“Let’s hope the windows are open, otherwise we’ll all be swooning before the night is over.” Amanda used her fan vigorously. She was already warm and she’d just arrived.
`Felicia grinned. “Knowing Lady Huddleston, she’ll consider that the ultimate mark of success.”
`She nodded. “The Courtlands’ wasn’t nearly as crowded. By the time Eliza and I left to come here, most of the young people had already left.”
They moved through the crowd discussing family, friends and Amanda’s charity work. At one point, they stopped as a group of people all moved into their path at once. Another person collided with her from behind. Turning, she found Martha Danvers behind her.
`“Pardon me,” Martha stammered. “I didn’t… That is, I wasn’t watching…” Amanda thought she looked quite pretty dressed in a gown of pale peach.
Remembering her conversation with Felicia at Lady Warburton’s earlier, Amanda smiled. “No harm done, Martha.”
“Indeed,” Felicia chimed in. “It’s good to see you. How are you this evening?”
Martha dipped Felicia a curtsy and replied, “I’m well, Your Grace.” She looked around as if searching for someone. “But I seem to have lost Charity.”
The best thing to happen so far tonight, Amanda thought. “I’m sure she will be fine.”
“Why don’t you walk with us for a bit until we find her?” Felicia invited.
Amanda was stopped by a patron of the school who wanted to ask her some questions. Waving Felicia and Martha off, she turned to give Lady Atwater her full attention. Some minutes later, as she finished her discussion, the musicians struck up a waltz and she turned to find Jon beside her.
It would be churlish to refuse, she told herself. Especially considering the decision she’d made the night before. Yet she was still uneasy and unsure in his presence. Why couldn’t she just put what happened three years ago behind her? He obviously had.
It was as they passed another couple on the floor that she spoke.
“I noticed you talking to Lord Thurston.” She strove to keep her voice steady. “You weren’t, by any chance, warning him off, were you?”
“Could I?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it would depend on what you said.”
“Are you not sure of his affections?”
She did not want to answer that question. It was not Thurston’s affections she was unsure of. It was her own. And knowing she planned to tell him no on the morrow caused her to feel more than a little guilty.
They passed Thurston and Martha once again and she wondered how Felicia had orchestrated that. But she had to admit they made a fine couple. Thurston was smiling and Martha seemed to be conversing with him, something Amanda knew was difficult for her. Mayhap everything would turn out for the best after all.
“And why would I want to?”
“Want to what?”
“Warn Lord Thurston off, as you put it?”
Blood stole into her face as she realized how the question sounded. Once again, she had spoken before thinking. Why couldn’t her wayward tongue keep still in his presence?
Jon watched the color suffuse her face, then recede, leaving huge blue eyes in its wake before she lowered her lashes, shielding them from him. For the first time since he was a green youth, he didn’t know what to say to a woman. That Amanda was still wary of him was obvious, but how to alleviate it without touching on the source of the uneasiness eluded him.
Reminding her of the kiss did not bother him. In truth, he wanted her to remember that magical moment. However, he would prefer she not relive the hurt he had inflicted afterwards. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the pain and disillusionment which had filled her eyes before he turned away from her. The destruction of her dreams. Dreams he knew had been centered around him. It would serve him right if she never felt comfortable around him again.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t do. She was his sister’s best friend. He had the feeling they would be seeing a lot of each other over the years and he didn’t want one thoughtless act on his part to keep them from being friends. That was the least they could be.
“Relax. I don’t bite.”
Her head snapped up, her gaze colliding with his. “You’ll forgive me, my lord, if I disagree,” she responded, tartly. “I’m afraid previous encounters are all I have to go on and they tell me something different.”
“I wondered.” His voice was low.<
br />
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wondered what?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer her. “Three years is a long time to hold a grudge.”
Amanda’s eyes widened. He knew she had not expected him to acknowledge the incident. Perhaps there was hope after all. If they could get past that, then…who knew what could happen.
“I do not hold grudges. But I do learn from experience.”
“Experience can, indeed, be an excellent teacher,” he agreed, “provided one does not learn the wrong lesson from it.”
The dance came to an end, and he escorted her off the floor. Felicia was waiting, watching him more closely than he cared for. He knew Felicia would be happy if he married Amanda, even if she didn’t have the statuette. Whether Tina would understand his ignoring Nona’s dictate was a separate matter.
Taking his leave, he headed for the door. He’d had enough for tonight, and still had work to do to catch up from his long absence. He still hadn’t been by to see his grandmother yet since his return, and now Amanda had given him food for thought. He needed to plan carefully how he was going to work his way around the problem or he’d give too much away in doing so.
Portrait of His Obsession
Michelle M. Pillow
Not all obsessions are bad.
Lord Harrison, Earl of Wrotham, once lived from pleasure to pleasure—until the rain-swept night he sets eyes on his best friend’s sister. Surely the beautiful temptress who dances in the moonlight can’t be the reserved, humorless prude of rumor.
Instantly smitten, he finds no pleasure in his old, roguish ways, and sets about taming his nature, molding himself into the kind of man he is sure will please her. Only then will he discover if she has a wild soul like his own, waiting to be released from the constraints of society.
Knowing the earl’s reputation as a scoundrel, Syrian Blakeney has no trouble holding off his affections…until her artist brother reveals a portrait he has painted of her. Does the world really see her as this prudish ice queen? Now it seems only the earl is able to see beyond the damning portrait and touch her most secret desires.
Portrait of His Obsession Page 13
