During the last weeks, the two of them had snuck away often enough, each time with her wearing that delightful disguise she’d donned for their adventure to York. They’d spent plenty of time talking about their future, holding hands, and sharing thoughts…but they’d found enough privacy for other things as well.
And it wasn’t as if this would be Vanessa’s first arrival at Blabloblal. She’d visited often enough to meet the staff and prepare for her official reign as a viscountess. Her smiles, and the way she was genuinely interested in the running of the place, had made the staff love her, and although her mother had tagged along on a few of the visits, he knew Vanessa was up to the challenge of running an estate like his, completely unaided.
So aye, she’d been introduced to everyone she needed to worry about impressing, and surely they wouldn’t begrudge their new mistress arriving at her new home a bit rumpled on the morning of her wedding?
Smiling, Roland shifted positions, settling himself upright against the squabs, and pulled her leg even further across his. “The journey is long,” he murmured, loving how enthusiastically she climbed atop his lap. “And I can think of any number of ways to occupy ourselves.
“Good,” she gasped, as his hands closed around her breasts. “Because that creative thinking is one of the things I adore about ye.”
“What other things do ye adore, love?” His hands were already digging at the piles of petticoats bunched between their legs, and he appreciated the way she lurched forward on her knees, helping him.
They both sighed in unison as she settled herself down, her warm dampness flush against his alarmingly aroused cock.
“I love all sorts of things about ye,” she murmured, cupping his cheek. In the light from the windows—which he’d scandalously left open as they sped through the Highlands—he could see her wicked grin. “Including the way ye listened to my suggestion to wear a kilt to our wedding.”
She’d worn a delightfully low-cut gown, and he was prepared to take advantage of that. “Aye?” he asked, as he bent to brush a kiss atop one plump breast. “I thought it was because ye liked to look at my legs.”
“That, husband, and I appreciate the easy access.”
When she reached down and closed her fingers around the hardness tenting the front of his kilt, Roland began to chuckle.
All too soon, that laughter turned to groans of desire, and when his lips found her skin, she moaned right along with him.
And he knew he’d found his perfect forever.
* * *
“Damnation, she did it again!” moaned Grisel in frustration, pounding on the table with her palm. “Ye let the thing fade to black, just as we got it working again!”
Broca shrugged, crossing her arms, as she leaned back in her chair. “I expected it. Evangeline’s always been a prude.”
Evangeline gasped, even as she tossed a tea cozy atop the crystal ball. “I am not a prude! I just respect a couple’s privacy!”
“Spoilsport then,” Broca grumbled.
“Whist nae f’r twain begrunnins!”
Seonag’s interruption caused the three arguing godmothers to turn her way, and when they did, the old woman pulled her unlit pipe from her mouth, offered them an exaggerated wink, then a firm nod.
Evangeline cleared her throat. “Yes, well… Well said, sister. Twain begrunnins indeed.”
As if she had any idea what that meant.
“I’m just relieved it all worked out,” sighed Willa, who slumped with her head in her hands. “I cannae believe how badly I handled that.”
“There, there, dearie.” Grisel reached over to pat the youngest godmother’s shoulder. “Ye did fine for yer first official assignment. It all worked out, did it no’? We barely had to do anything!”
“Exactly,” moaned Willa. “They managed it nearly all on their own.”
“Then it was meant to be,” stated Evangeline firmly. “And they’re better off for not having to worry about us meddling.”
“No’ like last time,” muttered Broca with a roll of her eyes.
“Hab tinnar fit abot, eh?”
Sniffing, Willa lifted her head. “Thank ye, Seonag. That does make me feel better.”
Was it possible the girl actually understood their eldest’s words?
Interesting.
Determined to take control of the conversation again, Evangeline reached for the folder on the table in front of her.
“Well, sisters, I believe we can consider this case closed, and the clients well satisfied. Granted, the use of number forty-seven was a bit unusual, and yes, we had some trouble monitoring the situation, but all in all…” With a flourish, she made a big check next to that line on the agenda. “Roland and Vanessa are quite happy, despite it taking a bit of a convoluted story to get them to their happily-ever-afters.” She nodded firmly to Willa. “Good work.”
Blushing, the young woman straightened in her seat.
“Now that the current business has been addressed…” Evangeline dragged her pencil down the paper. “On to the next assignment. Broca, I believe it is yer turn, and I look forward to hearing what ye’ve decided at our next meeting.”
Grisel was happily munching on a tea biscuit. “Ooh, is it finally Bonnie’s turn? She’s such a sweet lass, it’s a shame to give her case to Broca.”
“She’s no’ a sweet lass,” argued their argumentative godmother. “She’s got a good, logical head on her shoulders, and she kens what she wants out of life.”
“Aye, unfortunately, that doesnae include falling in love,” pointed out Grisel. “Willa had it easy, because Roland and Vanessa already wanted to be in love with one another. Just a few hiccups along the way.”
Willa sniffed. “More than just hiccups, really.”
“Point is, neither Bonnie nor Lyon have any interest in one another, much less marriage and love.”
Evangeline hummed thoughtfully as she considered Grisel’s words. “Actually, I’m no’ so certain of that.”
“Aye.” One of Broca’s rare grins lit her face. “And I ken just how to make them realize they’re meant for one another.”
“Really?” Evangeline nodded in satisfaction and checked off the last item on their agenda. “Then we shall eagerly await your plans for The Lass Who Loved a Beast!”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
On Historical Accuracy
This story was, of course, a retelling of The Frog Prince. That classic fairy tale is best known from its 1812 inclusion in a compilation from the Brothers Grimm. In it, a princess (often depicted as vain and spoiled) solicits a frog’s help to fetch a golden ball she’s dropped into a well. The frog demands a kiss in return (along with special treatment, like sleeping on her pillow and eating from her plate), and she agrees. In some versions, the princess reneges, and the frog has to go to her father to demand she kiss him.
After the kiss, he reveals his true form, which is a handsome prince.
You might have noticed that my fairy tale retellings involve very little of what I like to call bibbity-bobbity-boo magic. This isn’t my first story to involve a shape-shifted character (see Rose Red), and it’s always difficult to figure out how to get around the whole “the hero can’t actually be a frog for most of the book.”
I decided to use the old “he’s in disguise” trick, and instead of a frog, had him come up with the least appealing persona he could imagine. Or at least…what he thought would be the least-appealing persona to Vanessa.
He was, obviously, wrong.
Which is always a delightful thing when it comes to romance novel heroes.
Now, when I realized our hero and heroine needed to work together toward a goal, the golden ball from the original tale was the obvious choice. The point of the ball (in the original) is that it is a completely useless, frivolous toy. It won’t bounce, it’s too heavy to really play with…only a completely spoiled princess would find it appealing to own, and likely then, only as a status symbol.
But the invention of the golden sphaera was a convenient substitute. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, it’s completely made up; although Roman artifacts and excavations are common in England (and even north of the border), I conceived the sphaera as an architectural element completely on my own.
I can tell you, however, that the excavation at Fangfoss Manor will be very important soon. Phineas Prince, the scholar, is very interested in the collection currently in the possession of the Earl of Fangfoss. He’ll have no choice but to find an excuse to visit. And conveniently, the earl is married to Phin’s sister’s old teacher! (You can read about his adventure in The Scholar and the Scot, although it’s not a fairy tale.)
In the meantime, his brother Lyon is going to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into the daylight when he runs headlong into Bonnie Oliphant. She’s no shy and retiring miss, but one determined to reach her goals. Will she own her publishing house? Find out in The Lass Who Loved a Beast. Keep reading for an excerpt!
But first, I want to offer you a personal invitation to join my reader group – Caroline’s Cohort. If you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll consider becoming a part of my group. It’s where I post all the best book news first, and you’ll be able to get to know me personally. My Cohort group is also instrumental in helping me name characters and choose covers, so stop on by!
SNEAK PEEK
Okay, I don’t know about you, but Beauty-and-the-Beast tropes are my favorite, and I’ve been anxiously awaiting Bonnie and Lyon’s story. I think you’re really going to love Lyon’s scarred heart…I sure do! Check out what happens when Bonnie walks in on him uninvited in The Lass Who Loved a Beast…
* * *
When they’d stepped into the room, Lyon Prince had looked up from whatever he was writing, his golden hair falling away from his face as he scowled in irritation. He had the most impressive face for scowling, she had to admit, but even that wasn’t what occupied her attention.
Nay, it was his chest. His scarred, sweaty, massive, muscled verra much naked chest.
Oh my.
Bonnie swallowed, unable to drag her eyes up to even meet his angry gaze. If she’d been a man, and he a woman, and she’d been staring at her breasts so intently—
Wait, no, that analogy was far too rambling. Suffice it to say that, were their positions reversed, and he was staring at her chest this hard, this hungrily, she would slap—nay, that wasn’t true either.
If Lyon Prince stared at her as intently, as interestedly, as she was staring at him right now, Bonnie would likely offer to remove her blouse and allow him to look harder. With his hands. And tongue.
Dear God, ye’re getting off topic, are ye no’?
Right.
Right.
With supreme effort, she dragged her attention back to his face, which really was locked into a frozen glower, thanks to those scars, as he stood up.
“What are ye doing here?” he growled, and Heavens! That sound seemed to reverberate all through Bonnie’s chest in the most delightful way, settling between her thighs.
She opened her mouth to answer, before realizing the Beast of the Oliphants was glaring at his brother. When she turned, Phineas was smiling that easy-going grin of his.
“I told ye I’d be stopping by, Lyon, remember?”
“Alone.” He didn’t even look at her.
But he also didn’t seem to care that he was standing, shirtless, in broad daylight in his study.
Phineas waved dismissively. “I dinnae mention the state I’d be in during my visit.”
“Phin.”
“Lyon, this is Lady Bonnibelle Oliphant. Ye might remember her from Roland’s wedding to her sister, Lady Vanessa.” Then, as if he hadn’t just unnecessarily recounted their family relationship to the laird’s heir, turned to Bonnie. “Bonnie, my perpetually grumpy oldest brother, Lyon Prince. Ye may call him Lyon.”
“Why is she here, Phin?” growled Lyon.
And since the man was doing a remarkable job of not acknowledging her, Bonnie also directed her comment to Phineas. “To be fair, Phineas, if I had a stranger drop in on me unannounced while I was in a state of undress, I too would be grumpy.”
“I’m no’ undressed; I was sparring with Keith.”
She pretended to startle as she turned back to him, and said brightly, “Oh, we’re speaking directly to one another now? Excellent! And I’m pleased ye take yer physical health so seriously, and no’ that this was just a Castle full of half-dressed inhabitants.”
She could swear his lips twitched, but then he pressed them so tightly together she couldn’t be certain.
“Bonnie is here to see yer collection, Lyon,” Phineas announced, and it was only then that she realized he was backing toward the door. “I’ll let her explain it to you.”
Both she and Lyon asked, “And where are ye going?” at the same time, which might’ve been comical, had she not been struck with panic at being left here alone with Lyon Prince.
Panic, but of a good sort.
Should I take my shirt off as well, to fit in?
Phineas didn’t seem to notice. He nodded toward the window, which had thankfully been modernized with glass, rather than a bearskin or something equally medieval. “We’re expecting snow, and I need to see to my team. My estate isnae too far, and I’ll come fetch ye when ye’re ready, Bonnie.”
It was entirely inappropriate. It was scandalous.
It was thrilling.
“Phineas!” they both called—her in exasperation, him in warning—as the man in question waved cheekily.
“I’ll see myself out, ta!”
And then he was gone, and Bonnie was left alone in a man’s study with said man wearing not nearly enough clothing.
Or—hear me out—just the right amount, eh?
* * *
Bonnie is snarky and irreverent and brilliant—just the sort of beauty Lyon needs. But it’s going to take almost losing her for him to realize that. But first…a blizzard, on behalf of the Godmothers, to trap them together for a bit! Check out The Lass Who Loved a Beast!
About the Author
Caroline Lee has been reading romance for so long that her fourth-grade teacher used to make her cover her books with paper jackets. But it wasn't until she (mostly) grew up that she realized she could write it too. So she did.
Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After in NC with her husband, sons, and new daughter, Princess Wiggles. And while she doesn't so much "suffer" from Pittakionophobia as think that all you people who enjoy touching Band-Aids and stickers are the real weirdos, she does adore rodents, and never met a wine she didn't like. Caroline was named Time Magazine's Person of the Year in 2006 (along with everyone else) and is really quite funny in person. Promise.
You can find her at www.CarolineLeeRomance.com.
Other Books by Caroline Lee
Want the scoop on new books? Join Caroline’s Cohort, an exclusive reader group! Or sign up for my mailing list by texting “Caroline” to 42828 to get started!
Steamy Scottish Historicals:
The Sinclair Jewels (4 books)
The Highland Angels (5 books)
The Hots for Scots (8 books)
Highlander Ever After (3 books)
Sensual Historical Westerns:
Black Aces (3 books)
Sunset Valley (3 books)
Everland Ever After (10 books)
The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet (6 books)
Sweet Contemporary Westerns
Quinn Valley Ranch (5 books)
River’s End Ranch (14 books)
The Cowboys of Cauldron Valley (7 books)
The Calendar Girls’ Ranch (6 books)
Click here to find a complete list of Caroline’s books.
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