Cara stood quietly just inside the door, studying this man who looked every inch the noble in black velvet breeches and a close fitting jacket that ended at the waist. The tails of the wide, scarlet sash he wore lay on his lifted thigh, and there was a sensuality about him she could not deny. It drew her in, tugged at her, interested her. He was younger than she’d expected, tall and broad shouldered. The flickering firelight below locked his finely chiseled profile in mystery, and his lashes cast a shadow on the sculptured cheek nearest her.
She drew closer, speaking in the soft Spanish of the gentry, just as Papa had taught her. “Excuse me, señor. Your aunt said you wanted to see me.”
Withdrawing his foot from the hearth, he straightened, turning with a fluid grace of movement that stopped her breath in her throat and made her heart race. But then her hand flew to her mouth to hide the tiny gasp that escaped her, for the face she had just seen in profile, and which now she saw fully, was the face of the man on the roan. She stood with her mouth open, seeing in her mind’s eye the wide hand raised once more, feeling the sharp slap of a glove across the other vaquero’s face. She completely forgot her intention of keeping her eyes decorously lowered.
In those brief moments of shock, his dark gaze bored into hers, and she wondered if he could read her thoughts and knew the distaste she’d felt at his action that day.
Yet Cara could not look away. His eyes held her, pulling her into their depths, their darkness, and the attraction she had felt when she first saw him on the roan flooded her now. Now, she realized with shock that if he motioned with just one finger to come to him, she would go into his arms.
The worst of it was she sensed he would welcome her there.
Horrified at her feelings, she closed her mouth and pushed the thoughts away. She was behaving like a school girl besotted by a man she did not even know.
“Welcome to Rancho Navarro, Señorita Lindsay. Our house is your house.” He inclined his head slightly in recognition.
His voice matched his body, unintentionally yet unaccountably sensual, and the Spanish invitation of welcome was sincere. He motioned to her now, but it was an invitation to be seated, and she moved forward as if drawn by him. It was as if his hand had touched hers, searing it with sensations she had never known before. Not even with Baird, who was once her fiancé.
She could not sit. Instead, she stood behind the chair and gripped its back for courage.
He turned again to the fire and spoke. “You have met my…wife?”
The spell broke.
“Yes. I have. And you cannot keep her like that, you just cannot.”
There was astonishment on his face as he turned to her.
She had his full attention. Her control evaporated, and all her concerns poured out like a spring flood. “Your wife needs sunshine. She needs to be in the open air. To run and laugh, not be kept shut up in that dark room. Your people are giving in to her every whim. She is perfectly capable of feeding herself, but today I saw her throw a tantrum so Lupe would be forced to do it. Soon she will forget how to take care of her simplest needs.”
Again the gaze of the dark eyes held hers. There was no escape. He said nothing, and she felt adrift on a sea without a lifeboat in sight. Yet she plunged on, garbling her words, knowing she spat fire yet unable to stop because the images of that morning had seared her memory. When she had run out of accusations and was spent, the only sound left was the crackle of the fire and the harshness of her breathing.
She looked away from the depths of those eyes, embarrassed by her lack of control.
There was a long moment when he said nothing, when he seemed to consider what she had said. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as polished metal. “If you’re accusing me of neglecting my wife, I fail to see that it is your concern.”
Cara was undone. She had gone about this without tact or understanding, and now she would lose his support in working with his pitiful wife. Taking a deep breath, as Papa had told her to do when her feelings ran amuck, she said quietly but firmly, “Yes, I guess I am. From what I hear, you are the great Miguel Navarro. You manage sixteen leagues of crops, horses and cattle. The people who work and live on this estate are your responsibility, yet you have washed your hands of how your aunt and the servants run this household in regard to your wife.”
She emphasized this because now she was a snowball running down hill with nothing more to lose. “I will wager you have turned your back on a problem no one knows how to solve. Why else did you hire me as her companion without telling me the truth?”
“And you know how to solve this problem?”
Gone were the wonderful sensations she had felt with this man. The sarcasm in his voice stung her like an angry wasp, and for a moment she was speechless. But she refused to back down after what she had seen upstairs. “I know how to try. I worked beside my father in a school for children, and some of them were difficult. At least I know how to begin.”
He stared into the fire for a long time. Cara grew restless, thinking she would have to pack her bags tomorrow and return to El Pueblo. And then where would she go? Back to Boston?
To her surprise, when he spoke again he was all business. “What would you have us do?”
Joy sprang up inside her. In spite of her outburst, she’d been given a chance. Swallowing hard, she spoke in a normal tone and as rationally as she could. “I will begin by making her feed herself. At present she has learned that if she throws a tantrum they’ll give in and feed her. For now she refuses to be bathed, have her hair brushed or change into clean clothing. These are the basics that need to be accomplished. Eventually, I would expect her to join us at table.”
Something, possibly pain, leaped into the remarkable face and was instantly subdued. His dark eyes held her gaze again, and then he said, “You describe a child in a woman’s body. Is she able to endure the distaste some members of this family may not be able to hide if she brings her crude, child-like manners to our table?”
Cara gasped. The reactions of her family had not occurred to her for she had assumed they would accept Desira. She had been so eager to make her as whole as possible that to her his wife was not an object of pity or distaste. His words made her realize that her feelings might not reflect those held by the family, not even if they cared deeply for her. She had been naive. To her this young woman was Desira as she was now, but they had known her as a normal woman. The contrast must be unbearable.
Cara looked up at him. “I had not thought of that.”
“I did not think you had.” His tone was harsh. “What can you do to avoid this kind of reaction?”
Now it was her turn to be silent as she thought this through. It was all important to protect Desira from such a calamity. “I’ll work with her first. That is, if you give permission. The staff will listen to me about her tantrums only if you order it. First, she must resume feeding herself. The dining room will come later. Perhaps it and other small things that please her can be rewards for her cooperation.”
Her eyes locked on him, Cara waited as he weighed her suggestion.
Miguel knew she was not aware of how he studied her. Of how he had observed her startling green eyes, and skin so fair it was almost luminescent beneath a faint spattering of freckles. She was taller than Desira, and ever so much stronger despite her slender frame. He knew just how much her full breasts had risen when emboldened by passion for what she viewed as an injustice. He imagined how soft the curve of her hips and how silken her skin would be minus the impediment of all those petticoats and pantaloons.
Passion of a much different sort from what she’d exhibited stirred his loins, something seldom experienced since his wife’s injury—not even when Rosita flaunted herself at him, danced with him. He rested his booted foot on the hearth again to ease the tightness in his pants and take his mind off that part of his male anatomy.
He had known how young and reportedly lovely Cara Lindsay was when he had hired her. He admitted that in his loneliness he
had wanted someone of her gender and age on his ranch. A woman he could talk to, not a child.
He liked her, liked her fire and the way she made him feel alive again. But she was not to know this. At least not now. He sighed. Not ever.
Author’s Website
Excerpt from
How To Woo… A Reluctant Bride
By Lyndi Lamont
Sexy Victorian Romance
Armed with a copy of the Kama Sutra, Evan sets out to seduce his reluctant bride into passionate surrender. Lydia is prepared to tolerate this man she’s been sold to, but his scorching kisses send her pulses racing. With a little help from Sir Richard Burton’s new, provocative translation of ancient wisdom on seduction and arousal, the cold marriage bed of an arranged union is about to combust into a blazing flame of desire.
How to Woo… A Reluctant Bride
If only she could stop worrying about the man she was about to marry.
All through dinner, she was aware of his presence at her side. His quick smile, pleasant manners, his long, long fingers that occasionally brushed her hand. Then there was his deep voice murmuring in her ear during the meal. It mattered not what he said, the very sound of his voice sent alternate waves of heat and cold through her. She was barely been able to eat a bite, though she’d drained her wineglass more than once before the champagne toast was served. She drank that as well.
Now, feeling a bit woolly-headed, she walked out onto the balcony for some fresh air where a slight breeze cooled her heated face. The men were still having their port in the dining room while her mother and Phoebe sat and visited with Mrs. Channing. Lydia knew she should go back inside and converse with her future motherin-law.
Lydia was eager to learn more about Evan’s childhood. She knew his father had died when he was a babe in arms, murdered during the Sepoy Uprising, and that Mrs. Channing’s Indian in-laws had protected her and the infant Evan from a similar fate. She must have loved her husband greatly, for she had never remarried.
It was a tale worthy of one of her favorite romance novels, but she wasn’t in the mood to be sociable. Thank heavens it was a small gathering, just her immediate family, Evan, his mother and his uncle Frederick. She’d never have been able to deal with a crowd tonight.
When the men entered the room, her gaze flew to Evan. He looked around the room, frowning, until he spotted her standing by the open door. A smile creased his face as he headed straight for her. She clutched the doorjamb as her heart started pounding.
“There you are,” he said, stopping in front of her. “I feared you’d left.”
“I just needed some fresh air,” she explained.
“Are you well?” he asked, taking her hand solicitously. Heat radiated from him, shooting up her arm.
“I’m fine, just a bit warm.”
“I am, too,” he said, guiding her to the railing looking over the small garden at the back of the house. The scent of roses and honeysuckle wafted up.
“Since our engagement is official, I’ll send the announcement to the Times tomorrow, and then speak to the vicar about having the banns read. Shall we set a date now?”
She stiffened, staring straight ahead. Official. The word pounded in her head. Once the announcement was published, there would be no backing out. She closed her eyes, not knowing what to say.
“Lydia?”
Gently, he grasped her chin and turned her head toward his. When she looked up, his expression was concerned.
“What’s wrong, my dear?”
Everything. But she could not say so. In truth, she was afraid of the weeks to come. Of what this marriage would mean. How it would change her life.
He moved his hand to her shoulder. “Are you apprehensive?”
She managed a jerky nod.
“So am I,” he whispered.
She stared at him in astonishment. “Truly?”
“Truly. This is a big step for both of us. I realize we don’t know each other very well. If you’d like a long engagement—”
“No. Waiting will just make things worse.”
He quirked a dark brow. “How so?”
Taking a step back, she spread her hands. “It will just give me more time to dread—”
She broke off at the injured look on his face. “Forgive me, but surely you understand this marriage was never my preference.”
He turned away from her and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, I know, but I hoped you had become resigned to it.”
“I have. At least I have tried to be,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “That’s why I think it best just to plunge ahead. Once the banns have been read thrice, we can wed almost immediately.”
He turned back, a frown still marring his forehead. “Will that give your mother enough time to plan?”
She shrugged. “All I need is a new gown.”
“But won’t society think it odd we married in such haste?”
She looked him in the eye. “Let me make one thing clear. I do not give a fig for what society thinks. If you supposed you were marrying a social butterfly, let me banish that notion right now.”
He smiled at her. “Harry said you were sensible, but this surprises me. I’m happy to agree to a short engagement.” He stepped closer, towering over her. “The sooner I can make you mine, the better.”
Her heart pounded and her breath caught as he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers for but a second before backing away. She drew in a deep breath. Her first kiss and it had been over almost before it was begun. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“Shall we go inside and discuss the wedding plans with your parents?”
“Not yet. There is something else I’d like to say.” It was now or never.
“Yes, my dear, what is it?”
She licked her lips then plunged ahead. “I know how these things work. Arranged marriages, that is. I won’t expect fidelity from you.”
His shocked expression surprised her. “Is that what you think, Lydia? That I’m marrying you with the intention of cheating on you?”
“Perhaps not now,” she said. “But in a few years… It’s not as if ours is a love match. I won’t cut up a fuss if you decide to take a mistress. As long as you are discreet.”
“How very… sophisticated of you,” he said, his tone dry enough to parch a desert.
She took a deep breath before continuing. “And once I’ve produced the requisite heir and spare, I assume I’ll be free to seek my pleasure elsewhere.”
The thunderous look on his face startled her and she stepped back.
“You will do no such thing,” he said fiercely, reaching for her. “Ours may not be a love match now, but I fully intend to see it turns into one.”
With that, he pulled her into his embrace, trapping her arms between them as his encircled her shoulders and waist. Covering her mouth with his, he kissed her with a heady combination of passion and anger. Her resistance crumbled in the face of his onslaught. She clutched at his lapels and returned his kiss, even parting her lips when his tongue probed them. Overwhelmed by the sensations his lips provoked, she let her eyes drift shut as she clung to him.
When he let her go, he was still visibly upset. “There will be no more talk of infidelity. Have I made myself clear, Lydia?”
“Yes, Evan,” she said meekly.
“Good. Now if you will excuse me?”
At her nod, he turned and strode back into the room.
She moved to the edge of the balcony and grabbed hold of the wrought-iron railing. Good lord, what had made her say that? It was the truth, as she well knew from observing her parents arranged marriage. Perhaps things were done differently in the middle class.
In any case, she’d never expected so much ardor from her merchant prince. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be such a bad bargain after all.
(Note: How to Woo… A Reluctant Bride was previously published under the title Love… By the Book.)
Currently on sale online
for 99 cents.
Excerpt from
Worth The Risk
by
Lyn O’Farrell
Short Contemporary Romance
Children’s librarian Amanda Lloyd values privacy above all else. Three years ago her wedding ended in disaster when her groom was arrested at the altar and the story of the ‘Embezzler’s Bride’ appeared in the supermarket tabloids. The experience has left her determined to avoid being caught in the public eye again. Until she meets a sexy single dad with a scandalous past.
Ex-race car driver Mitch Delaney is a public figure whose life has been plastered across the tabloids more than once. But he believes that anything worth doing is worth a risk. After the death of his ex-wife, he moved to Southern California to take care of his son Josh. He doesn’t need the complication of a woman in his life, especially since Josh’s grandparents have filed suit for custody. But Josh is on the hunt for a new mother and he has his heart set on Miss Amanda, and Mitch can’t fault his son’s taste.
(Originally published as Private Affair, Precious Gem #122)
Worth the Risk
Warning—dangerous curves ahead.
The thought popped into Mitch Delaney’s head as he watched a pair of slender black clad legs and a shapely derriere backing out of the doorway toward him. She didn’t look like any librarian he’d ever met.
He’d come into the children’s room of the Santa Elena Public Library looking for his son. He hadn’t found Josh yet, but the seductive body emerging from the child-sized playhouse fascinated him. What he could see of her clothing seemed pretty conservative, but the position she was in more than made up for it.
She stood up a little too soon and cracked her head on the three-foot high doorway. “Damn,” she muttered.
“I heard that,” he whispered.
Leaning over her shoulder, his hand brushed her arm as he reached down to put a puzzle piece in place. “I think this one goes here.”
Amanda suppressed a shiver at his touch and tried to inch away. It was definitely time to assert herself. She had to get this situation onto a professional level. She stood up and tried to put some distance between them, but it didn’t help. His bold gaze surveyed her, and her breathing grew rapid.
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