Air rushed out of his lungs. “Colonize? Establish a civilization?”
Biting her lip, she nodded.
“And we were never to be told?”
“No. I think even some of my ancestors didn’t know. Only a select few had knowledge of the true reason for the journey.”
Andreus sank to a tree stump, too stunned to feel the fury he knew would come later. “I-I can’t believe this.”
“I’m so sorry.” She pulled out an ancient paper. “Here is some proof of the conspiracy. But don’t you see, you should take your boat and try to find your way back. I’m sure many others will want to join you now.”
He glanced at her. “Would you?”
She crossed her arms and looked away. “I don’t know. It’s all so shocking, so frightening.”
Andreus jumped up and took her into his arms again. “I won’t leave this place without you, Ariana. I’d rather stay here, even if I can not have you.”
“I-I’ve thought of nothing but you these last hours. I would go with you over the sea if it meant being close to you.”
He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her pure essence. “And I love you more than anything, even my dreams of leaving here.”
Ariana looked up, tears glistening in her eyes. “We could run away to the little hut on the beach.”
“The hut is gone. I tore it down last night.”
“And the boat?”
Andreus grinned. “The boat is still there. Shall we make it a shelter so it won’t be against the law?”
“By that lovely lagoon? Absolutely.” Her sexy, curved lips squeezed his heart and hardened his cock.
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his. Their tongues danced in a perfect rhythm, as if they’d never parted. Ariana tasted like the sunshine, the clouds, the rain. She was the air. She was heaven.
“Come.” Andreus led her back to the crowded beach. “I want you to meet my brother. He’ll want to hear the good news.”
“Good news?”
“Our dream is still alive.” He enfolded her soft fingers into his own. “And now with you by my side, the fantasy has become real.”
“Will you tell the others what I’ve told you?”
Andreus stopped and gazed down at her bright eyes. He would do just about anything she asked, including tearing the boat apart, splinter by splinter. “Do you wish me to?”
“I merely brought you the information.” Ariana leaned on him, her small breasts pressing deliciously against his chest. “It is up to you to expose it to the others.”
He tilted her head back, cupped her jaw. “Why me?”
Ariana licked her lips, a promise of the night to come. “Because you will be the one to lead them.”
About the Author
To learn more about Leslie Dicken, please visit www.lesliedicken.com.
Send an email to Leslie at [email protected]. You can also follow her at twitter: http://twitter.com/LeslieDicken or friend her on Facebook.
Look for these titles by Leslie Dicken
Now Available:
The Price of Discovery
Taboo
Beauty Tempts the Beast
A Tarnished Heart
Coming Soon:
The Iron Heart
She can save him…or bring him to ultimate ruin.
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, graceful 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.
Is he her darkest dream…or her most terrifying nightmare?
Midnight Secrets
© 2011 Jenni Grizzle
Cassiopeia’s dreams have never been her own. They are harbingers of death. Yet when she learns her gentle cousin, Mary, has disappeared from a remote castle on the Cornish Coast, the official story doesn’t fit with Cassie’s prophetic dream.
The mystery compels her to leave the safety and middle-class comfort of Oxford to take a job as a maid in the house of Killdaren. There she discovers more than the daily indignities the working class must endure. There’s a darkness surrounding Sean Killdaren, a man born with his hands at his twin’s throat. Whispers of the murderous Dragon Curse…and an aversion to daylight that adds vampire to spine-chilling rumors.
When Cassie encounters him in the shadowy corridors, his touch should make her tremble in fear. But that’s not what makes her knees shockingly weak. It’s the spell of desire he casts with his wicked green eyes…and the small acts of kindness that soften her heart.
The closer she comes to the truth, the greater the danger. Mary isn’t the only woman lost to the Killdaren brothers’ curse. And as a killer lurks ever closer, Cassie wonders whom she can trust…and if she will be the next victim.
Warning: Contains a prim and proper advice columnist who finds herself in situations not covered by the rules of etiquette, and a deliciously dark hero who sees more than a maid in itchy wool…he sees the only star that lights his tortured life. Lace hankies strongly recommended.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Midnight Secrets:
A leather gloved hand clamped over my mouth and nose from behind. An arm wrapped around my stomach and arms, trapping me, and jerking me back against the hard body of a large man. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t reach my pistol. I could barely move. Terror flamed in my breasts and fired through my veins. The man pulled me deeper into the darkened room, shutting the door. Dear Lord. Is this how Mary disappeared?
Wrenching violently, I tried to free myself, but the man clamped me tighter to him, crushing me with his strength. I pressed my head back, fighting to ease the pressure on my face enough to breathe. In my panic I remembered the size of Jamie Frye, his anger, the veiled threat that if I were to die none would care. Then the hand covering my mouth and nose loosened enough for me to suck in blessed air. I smelled leather, mint and something frighteningly unknown, but compelling enough that I drew another needed breath.
“The scent of roses,” a deep, cultured voice with a hint of an Irish burr whispere
d close to my ear, and I knew it wasn’t Jamie. “The feel of a woman.” As he spoke, his arm about my stomach slid higher, pressing beneath my bosom, almost caressing the undersides of my breasts a moment. I rammed my spine back, lifting myself to my tiptoes, trying to keep from knowing the warmth of his muscled arm so intimately against me. This brought his mouth and the heat of his breath closer to my ear.
“The actions of a thief.” His tone was soft, menacing. My heart thundered harder, more painfully. “Will you come to such an ill fate, lass? ‘Like a rose, she has lived as long as roses live…the space of one morning’? Or will it be even less for you?”
Any affinity I had for Malherbe’s poetry met a quick death at that moment. I shook my head, trying to speak, but only managed a muffled squeal.
“Let’s see what you’ve stolen, my rose.”
I didn’t understand what he meant to do until he moved his gloved hand from beneath my breasts, sliding downward, pressing firmly along the contours of my body all the way down to my hips, then brushing over my intimate flesh as he slid from one dress pocket to the other, and finding my father’s pistol. His body jerked with surprise and he drew a sharp breath.
“Run or scream and I will kill you instantly.” He pulled the pistol from my pocket. His voice chilled and became deadly. I’d never heard true menace before now.
“Are you an assassin?” He released me, shoving the muzzle of the pistol into my back, urging me deeper into the room.
My legs shook, and my vision blurred. “Assassin? Good God! Please. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t stolen anything either. The pistol is mine. To keep me safe.”
I heard him light a lamp, filling the dark-paneled room with a muted glow. I barely saw the billiard table before me and the numerous game tables beyond that. I was too aware of the man behind me with my pistol to my back.
“Take off your cap,” he ordered.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pulled off my cap, feeling almost as if I was removing my clothes before him. I hadn’t taken the time to pin my hair and it spilled down my back.
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