I want to introduce you to one of my writer friends. She writes lovely sensual Regencies, and really has a way with words. She is promoting her newest release,
"Never Courted, Suddenly Wed".
Christopher Ansley, Earl of Waxham,
has constructed a perfect image for the ton--the
ladies love him and his company is desired by all. Only two people know the truth about Waxham’s secret. Unfortunately, one of them is
Miss Sophie Winters.
Sophie Winters has known Christopher since she was
in leading strings. As children, they delighted in tormenting each other. Now
at two and twenty, she still has a tendency to find herself in scrapes, and her
marital prospects are slim.
When his father threatens to expose his shame to
the ton, unless he weds Sophie for
her dowry, Christopher concocts a plan to remain a bachelor. What he didn't
plan on was falling in love with the lively, impetuous Sophie. As secrets are
exposed, will Christopher’s love be enough when she discovers his role in his
father’s scheme?
EXCERPT:
The gentleman dropped to a knee alongside her. “Are
you hurt?”
She swallowed. “No. I…” Sophie shoved herself up on
her elbows and groaned. Of all the
riders in Hyde Park, it would be her misfortune that Duke should stumble upon
Christopher Ansley, Earl of Waxham—her childhood nemesis and paragon of
Society.
She’d have rather accepted help from Lady Ackerly.
“You.”
Christopher frowned. “I should have suspected when
this unattended fiend,” he jerked his chin in Duke’s direction, “nearly
unseated me, you were somehow behind it.”
Duke sat back on his haunches. His little pink tongue
lolled out the side of his mouth and he yapped happily at the earl. Apparently
the dog was a far worse judge of character than she’d credited.
“I’m certain your beast spooked him,” she said in
defense of her precocious pug. After all, that fiend, as Christopher had referred to him, was a good deal more
loyal than most people.
Christopher’s frown deepened. “I’ll have you know,
Intrepid is not a beast. She is a refined and beautiful lady.” He patted Duke
upon the top of his head. Then, he seemed to remember his annoyance, for he
yanked his hand back and grasped the edge of her skirts.
“What are you doing, Christopher?” she hissed,
stealing several glances at the nearby voyeurs. She could only imagine how the
scandal sheets would report on this latest scrape she’d managed to land herself
in.
Christopher followed the direction of her stare, and
glowered at the people staring at Sophie’s prone form. “I’m inspecting you for
injury,” he said after their observers scurried off.
Her skin tingled from where his long fingers still
clasped her ankle. She slapped his hand away, her heart hammering in the oddest
way. “You mustn’t touch me. Not in public.” Not with said touch causing all the
strangest, unfamiliar little sensations in her stomach.
Christopher grinned, and his attention shifted from
her leg to her eyes. “Is that an invitation to touch you in private?”
Sophie slammed a hand over her mouth. Her eyes
widened. “You sir, are no gentleman.”
He gave a slow wink. “And running disheveled through
Hyde Park, you hardly epitomize ladylike gentility.”
She wondered what the highly proper earl would say if
he knew she was half seas over from alcohol she’d pilfered with a mystery
gentleman the previous evening.
He cocked his head.
“What?” she blurted.
“I’m merely trying to interpret that mischievous
glimmer in your eyes.” Christopher didn’t allow her an opportunity to respond,
instead, leaned over her leg, and again reached for her ankle.
“I said, you mustn’t touch me,” she said, hurriedly.
It wouldn’t do for her to be seen with Christopher handling her person in this
very intimate manner.
He glanced up with such alacrity a black lock escaped
the queue at the nape of his neck, and fell over his eye.
It was merely because he was trying to help her… and
because it must be so very difficult for him to see…and the fact that he’d been
surprisingly gentle with Duke, but Sophie gave in to the urge and brushed the
lone strand back from his forehead.
Christopher’s whole body seemed to freeze.
A rush of heat flooded her cheeks. “I…uh…imagined it
was difficult to see and thought if I moved the hair from your eyes that you’d
be able to see a good deal better and…” Be silent, Sophie. Be silent. She promptly closed her mouth.
“You’ll touch my hair in public but won’t allow me to
inspect your ankle?”
“It’s entirely different.”
Fortunate for Sophie, Christopher didn’t press the
point because she really wasn’t
altogether certain how it was dissimilar.
A beleaguered sigh escaped him. “Very well, then.” He
stood and held a hand out to help her up.
And because she couldn’t sit there indefinitely in
the midst of Hyde Park with an audience privy to her every action, Sophie
placed her hand in his. Tears flooded her eyes when she made to rise and sank
into a moist patch of soil. She fell back against the ground.
Duke jumped up and proceeded to dance in circles
about Sophie, clearly believing she and the earl played some kind of game.
Christopher spared him a single glance, then shifted
the whole of his attention to Sophie. “Don’t be silly, Phi. Let me ascertain
whether there is a break.”
She shook her head with such vigor that her already
loose chignon tumbled free, and sent curls tumbling down her back. “There is no
break, Christopher.”
He lowered his voice. “Really, Phi? You’d rather make
your way through Hyde Park with a broken ankle than accept my help?”
“You mustn’t call me Phi.” She stole a sideways
glance at the voracious spectators who’d converged upon them yet again. “You
are creating a scene.”
Christopher arched a single brow. “I think you moved
well beyond a scene when your holy terror of a dog went racing through the park
and nearly unseated me from my horse.” Either her dog was a good deal less
intelligent than she’d given him credit for or in desperate need of attention,
for the faithless pup nuzzled his head against Christopher’s lower legs and
gazed up at him with wide, adoring chocolate brown eyes.
So much for being a loyal pup.
She tried to look at Christopher objectively. Odd,
she’d never noted how his lean, muscular frame towered over her by more than a
foot. The tan hue to his skin indicated he was a man comfortable with the sun
on his person. Goodness. A startled squeak escaped her. She fanned herself.
Why, Christopher was…Christopher was…
“What is that look?”
Handsome!
“What is what look?” she asked, a touch too quickly.
She probed her head with the tips of her fingers. Surely she’d hit her head in
her fall. There was no other suitable explanation for her sudden awareness of
Christopher as a far too handsome gentleman.
BUY LINKS:
Christi Caldwell, the bestselling author of “Forever
Betrothed, Never the Bride,” and “A Season of Hope”, blames Judith McNaught's
"Whitney, My Love!" for luring her into the world of historical
romance. While sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of
Connecticut, Christi decided to set aside her notes and pick up her laptop to
try her hand at romance. She believes the most perfect heroes and heroines have
imperfections, and she rather enjoys torturing them before crafting them a
well-deserved happily ever after!
Christi makes her home in southern Connecticut where
she spends her time writing her own enchanting historical romances and being a
full-time wife and mother!
Visit
www.christicaldwellauthor.com to learn more about
what Christi is working on, or join her on Facebook at Christi Caldwell Author
and Twitter @ChristiCaldwell !
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