Shameless Promo, Part III!

 Here is a little peek at what you'll find over at LovesRomancesCafe!

   The Pursuit 

~ The Synopsis ~ 

Born into privilege, Katherine Bainbridge never thought the day would come when she would be happy to find work as a maid. But having fled London to avoid being tried, convicted and hanged for murder, she will take whatever work she can get, even if the offer comes from the most beautiful man she has ever seen.

Garrett McKenzie needs to staff his new home, but when he sees Katherine, the position that comes to mind does not involve mops and buckets. Determined to woo his lovely new maid into his bed, he will do whatever necessary to keep her there.

But when Katherine’s past comes back to haunt her, Garrett will do whatever he has to in order to prove to her that she can trust him with her life, as well as with her love.

~ The Excerpt ~

Garrett watched as the tall woman ran at him, priming himself for the imminent impact. A short, barrel-chested fellow was close at her heels, but Garrett wasn’t concerned about the man. Perhaps he had good reason to be chasing the lady. If not, Garrett would know soon enough and remove her from harm’s way before making scraps of the little bastard giving chase.

So he waited, his blood pounding in his ears, pulsing through his veins. A muscle tensed in his back, but then the little man looked up from his quarry. As quickly as he appeared, he halted his chase and simply melted away into the shadows.

Unfortunately, the woman failed to notice she was no longer being pursued. She didn’t so much as glance over her shoulder. Whump!

He caught her easily, although she slammed into him with hard enough to knock him back several steps. His left ankle twisted as he braced that foot to halt his momentum, but he held on. For a long moment, her body pressed against his. With her generous height, they matched up almost perfectly, setting off a ripple through his entire body. He savored the soft feel of her for an all-too brief moment. “Easy, love. Easy. I mean you no harm.”

Her body heaved against him as she fought to catch her breath, her arms limp at her sides. The peace only lasted a minute or so before she jerked free and shoved him away. “Unhand me!” 

He held up both hands. “I said I’ll not hurt you.”

She spun about to stare into the shadows behind her. “Where is he? Sanders? Where did he go?”

“That I can’t say. He looked up, probably saw me, and thought better of continuing his pursuit. Disappeared into the darkness and skulked away, I assume.”

Her gasps slowed, and she shoved a loose curl away from her face. “Bloody hell…”

He tugged his handkerchief from the pocket of his frock coat to press into her hand. “Tell me, who was that you were running from? The devil, perhaps?”

“No. The devil isn’t nearly as frightening.” She snatched the handkerchief from him and dabbed it against her brow as she straightened. “I thank you.”

“Of course.”

The handkerchief came away from her face. “Did you say he disappeared?”

“I did, and he did. Now, do you wish to tell me why he was chasing you? Did you snatch something of his, perhaps?”

Her brows met as she scowled up at him. “Absolutely not.” She shoved the wrinkled handkerchief at him. “I thank you for this, apologize for running into you, and now I think I will go back inside.”

“Very well, if you didn’t steal something from him, why was he chasing you? Do you owe him money?”

At first, she seemed to be on the verge of confessing but caught herself, pressing her lips together. “Of course not. Now, if you will excuse me—”

He didn’t know what madness possessed him to lean toward her other than the overwhelming urge to feel her lips against his. An urge he couldn’t ignore, didn’t want to ignore. He wanted to kiss her. 

Lights exploded before his eyes and pain lit up the inside of his skull as her fist connected solidly with his jaw.

A perfect punch.

He staggered back a step. “Jesus!”

“There’ll be none of that now, sir! I don’t do that!” She shook out her hand as if the blow hurt her as much as it hurt him.

He resisted the urge to rub the sore spot on his jaw, even as bells clanged against the inside of his skull. “Beg your pardon, my lady, but I’m not about to rape you.”

Her hand went still. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. “Oh dear…I apologize, of course, sir. I—I suppose I panicked.”

He chuckled, giving into the urge to rub his jaw with one hand. “You hit the way a man would.”

“I apologized, didn’t I? Now let me see if I’ve done any damage.”

He got his first good look at her as she lifted her face to his. “You’re that barmaid, aren’t you? The redhead Jefferson was giving a hard time.”

She lifted her hand to his jaw, brushing him where her fist met his face moments earlier. “I do believe you’ve the beginnings of a bruise. Again, I apologize.”

“Please don’t. It’s nice to see you could defend yourself if the need ever arose—for the most part, anyhow.”

Her eyes glittered in the moonlight like black opals, but he knew they weren’t black. They were hazel. A lovely combination of brown and green, although earlier he thought they seemed more green than brown. “Even so, I apologize just the same.”

As his jaw hurt only a bit, he managed a smile. “There is no need. I must admit, this isn’t exactly how I hoped to meet you but the end result is what I wished for. Have you a name, then, my lady?”

“I thank you for catching me, but if you will excuse me, I must get back inside.”

He caught her by the wrist as she stepped back. “Ah, but you will at least tell me your name, won’t you? I did save you from a fate worse than death, didn’t I?”

“I suppose.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “So grateful, sweetheart. So grateful, indeed.”

She gave him a sour look. “My name is not sweetheart and I’d appreciate it if you’d not keep calling me that.”

“Then what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Kat-ah, I mean, Katherine. Katherine Bainbridge.”

“Kat, eh?” He repeated it as if tasting it slowly. “I like it, even if it is unusual. It goes quite well with strong arm of yours.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.” She sighed, softening her sharp tone. “I apologize for my rudeness. I should be thanking you.”

“Think nothing of it. I’ll put it down to being frightened.” He offered her his arm. “Come, let me at least see you inside—to make certain no more harm befalls you. Tell me, did you know that man chasing you?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. I’ve never seen him before this evening,” she replied, averting her gaze and taking a quick step back. “Most likely one of Miller’s drunken louts who thought nothing of his pawing earlier or trying to take that pawing further still.”

Garrett thought her reply a bit too quick, too vehement, to be the truth. But, if she knew the man, it was her business. If she wished to tell him, fine. If not, it was fine with him as well.

Katherine cleared her throat softly. “I do appreciate your catching me, however, Mr.—”

“McKenzie,” he replied easily, his gaze holding hers for a long moment. “Garrett McKenzie.”

~*~

Mea Culpa and All That...

Unfortunately, between two sick kids and various other unforeseen twists, the excerpt contest for Eden's Pass has come to an early and kind of abrupt end. Thanks to everyone who participated, and the winner will announced later in the week. I apologize for yanking it so suddenly, but it isn't fair to anyone if I can't concentrate fully on what I"m excerpting and the questions going along with it.

Hopefully, I'll resume regular blogging - but I'm in the midst of a writing frenzy and licking my wounds from a recent rejection (it sucks, no matter how many books you've had published, trust me) so it may be some time. And, of course, there's NaNoWriMo looming on the horizon. And then we're heading into the holidays - yikes... always a busy time and this year's no different. =)

So again, thanks to all who entered and the winner will be notified by email before I post anything here!

Eden's Pass Excerpt #4

I have to apologize for not posting this yesterday - real life got in the way....


The scene - It is the first time Finn assists Captain Sebastiano with his bath...

~*~

The flutters swirled wildly out of control as there came a knock at the door and Iñigo bade entry to two men carrying a large bathing tub made of hammered brass.

Water must have been already heating, for it wasn’t much longer before those same two men were lugging in buckets to empty into the tub. With each splash, Finn’s mouth grew drier and her palms clammier. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her nervousness rose tenfold as the last bucket was emptied and both men left. Iñigo bolted the door behind them and turned to her, saying, "Show a leg, Finn."

Finn glanced at the table, where the lash still lay, then back at the captain. He smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking. "If you think you might outrun me, dear boy, by all means, try to grab it."

"I’ve no need for a whip." She shook her head. "I’ll end your life with a blade."


"Of course you will." He turned away from her, and she was certain her heart actually ceased to beat as he parted the black silk shirt he wore and tossed it onto the chair.

Her gaze swept over his bared back, her mouth suddenly as dry as sand. His skin was dark—bronzed by both sun and heritage. At the slightest movement, thick cords of muscle bunched across his shoulders. For one daring moment, she imagined what that part of his body looked like—that part now covered by snug black breeches.


"Finn."

She jumped, then sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the hammock. Heat swelled inside her, until she was certain her face must be a flaming red. It didn’t stop her from easing down and crossing over to him on trembling legs. "Aye?"


He turned, smiling at her muttered growl. "Ah, I only had to repeat it once. Good. You are learning."

She averted her eyes, but not before catching her first glimpse of his nude chest. That damn heat swelled further at the sight—beautiful and bronzed and—

Where the devil had beautiful come from? She swallowed hard. Her thoughts caused almost as much discomfort as his bared body. They made her giddy, almost faint, and her wobbly legs grew wobblier still. The lack of food was most likely the cause behind it. There could be no other logical explanation why she was on the verge of collapsing.

Of course, why should his chest fluster her the way it did? Why should it make her so shaky? It made no sense. It certainly was not the first time she’d ever seen a man’s bared chest. Beauregard's crew often went shirtless beneath the hot West Indies sun. There were many times when she almost wished she could do the same, rather than sweat beneath those powerful rays.


But flustered she was. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the funny tightening in her belly. Gaze remaining focused on the floor, she muttered, "Aye."

"Feeling a bit priggish, dear boy?" Iñigo asked mildly.


Her head jerked up and she hoped he couldn’t see the blush burning her cheeks. "I beg your pardon?"

"Priggish. Embarrassed. Surely I’ve nothing your own clothes do not cover as well."


She was as impressed by his command of English as she was embarrassed by his state of undress. Were it not for the curious, almost musical, lilt to his words, she would guess English was his native tongue. This wasn’t the time to dwell upon it, as he awaited her response—

"No, of-of course not." Her voice cracked, much to her dismay.


He chuckled. "If it bothers you, you may wait until I am in the water, then."

Relieved, she nodded. "If you’d not mind."


She turned, wincing at his dry chuckle of, "I’d not mind." Water sloshed, spattering on the floor and her belly twisted when he sighed appreciatively. A moment later, came his almost-purred, "You may begin, Finn."

She took a deep breath before turning to see Iñigo relaxing in the tub, eyes closed and head resting back, arms resting on the rim, long-fingered hands at ease as they dangled over the sides. His expression was one of a man at total peace.


A washrag and a small cake of soap lay on the chair beside the tub. Willing her knees to stop quaking, Finn forced herself to cross over and lift both items, one in each hand. Kneeling, she dunked the rag into the hot water before mangling the soap with it. "Captain?"

Without a word, Iñigo sat up, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his drawn-up knees. She had to tighten her grip on the soap to keep from dropping it as the water sloshed to accommodate Iñigo’s big body. It rose above his hips and was still quite clear, giving her more than a bit of an enticing peek at the firm curve of his backside.

Her hand trembled as she splopped the rag against his smooth skin and began washing him. She pressed into his flesh, lathering his golden skin to a foamy whiteness, struggling not to notice how solid he was, how broad his shoulders were, how wide his back was. Tried not to notice the way those thick bands of muscle bunched with the tiniest hint of movement.

Scrubbing the back of his neck, she was nearly overcome with the maddest urge to lean forward and nibble swarthy skin she’d bared. The soap slipped from her grasp, plunking into the water to send up a showering spray of droplets. "Oh, bloody hell!"

"Take care, Finn," Iñigo growled, lifting his head to peer over one shoulder. "You’d not like it if I thought my life might be in danger."

"I—I apologize." She thrust her hand into the water to scrabble about for the soap. Gritting her teeth against her rising curse, she managed to snag it on the third grab.

Iñigo let out a long, low purr of satisfaction as she resumed scrubbing. Water beaded along the swells of muscle on his shoulders and down his back. Instead of making his hair limp, the steam made the black waves curl about his nape and his temples, appearing to make it even thicker.

She clutched the rag and soap in a fist as she moved around to the side. The groan teasing her lips was even harder to suppress. Her hunger forgotten, she leaned over to drag the rag over his chest. One whiff of his clean, masculine scent, and her knees almost buckled.

He leaned back and she hesitated, glancing down at the now sudsy water hiding his most secret part. Nothing ventured. She dipped down to scrub his inner thigh.

Iñigo lunged forward to seize both soap and rag, nearly toppling her face-first into the tub. Catching herself on the tub’s rim, she managed to regain her balance, sputtering, "What the devil—?"

Iñigo's expression was one of pure disgust as he snarled, "Get yourself dressed, boy. I can finish this myself."

A firm hand to her breastbone accompanied his order, shoving her back and away from the tub. Landing on her backside with a jarring thud, she stared, unable to decide whether she ought be angry or confused. A sudden giggle rose in her throat. He reacted only when she’d ventured down between his legs, and she swallowed it as quickly as possible, not wanting to anger him further.

~*~

Enjoy!

Eden's Pass Contest ~ Excerpt #3

The setting - the Spaniards have just defeated the crew of the Smiling Jack...

Enjoy! =)


Finn squelched the urge to look at Captain Beauregard again. She did not wish to see what these marauders had done to him, did not wish to see any more spilled blood. She'd seen more than enough to last her a lifetime already. Besides, it mattered not how he died—all that mattered was that he had. It was something she'd almost prayed for, but this was not the ending for which she'd hoped. She was to be free, not the possession of yet another.


She pulled her eyes from her weapon now in the Spaniard's hands. "What have you planned for us, then?"

The man ignored her. His men apparently awaited his orders and he was quick to issue them in rapid-fire Spanish. Only moments later, the few men who'd surrendered had already taken the oath to join the Spanish crew. They marched from the Smiling Jack across the makeshift bridge to the ship now quietly bumping up against them.


Thoroughly defeated now, she turned back to the Spaniard, repeating, "And what of us?"

He flashed a maddeningly smug smile. "You will come with me, boy. I could use able-bodied swordsmen, seeing as how you dispatched one of my best men. This one seems equally skilled. You will be given the opportunity to earn your keep. After you pledge fealty to me, of course."

Mayhap it wasn't merely good fortune after all, if the Spaniard considered her an able-bodied swordsman. It was almost amusing, wondering what he'd think if he knew the truth. Her amusement was short-lived though. Nay. He also must never know the truth. "You wish me to join you?"


"Aye, lad. I am Captain Iñigo Sebastiano and you are my new cabin boy. And you, lad—" he clapped Ennis on the shoulder, "—will make for a fine deckhand."

Ennis nodded. "Aye, Captain. That is how I served Beauregard. I will, of course, take your oath."
Captain Sebastiano smiled down at both of them. "You will not be unhappy, my new friends. I run a fair ship. There are few who complain."


Finn gritted her teeth at his jovial tone. Few who complain, eh? Well, she supposed she could find some way to swallow any complaints she might have. It did not sit well, having her promised freedom stolen with such swift ease, but she would eventually find her way to it. She had no intention of vowing loyalty to him. Not now and not ever.

Her resolve was short-lived, though. How terrible could it be? After all, it was exactly what she had done onboard Beauregard's ship, wasn't it? Of course, it would mean remaining in disguise, but at least she might find some way to obtain the elusive specter of freedom. Exhaling heavily, she nodded. "Very well. I, too, will pledge loyalty."


Iñigo smiled again. "Shall we?" He gestured toward the makeshift bridge and she swallowed hard again. He didn't seem to be the least bit concerned with the cargo the Smiling Jack carried. It was almost as if his battle with them was personal. But why would this Spaniard have a vendetta against Captain Beauregard?

She kept quiet as Iñigo took her by the arm, shouted something across the deck, and they were joined by a second Spaniard who was every bit as frightening as the first. "Aye, Captain?"


"Diego—" The name was all she understood as he broke into Spanish, walking her and Ennis toward the rickety-looking bridge spanning the distance between the two ships. Diego was almost as tall as the captain, with a thick fall of shaggy black hair and an equally shaggy black beard. His heavy-lidded, dark-eyed gaze flicked in her direction, but snapped back as Iñigo spoke in rapid Spanish. Apparently, his orders had been to separate her and Ennis, for when they set foot onboard the Spaniard's ship, Diego steered Ennis in the opposite direction.

The pit of her stomach dropped with a sickening splash as Iñigo faced her again. She debated grabbing the dagger tucked in her tunic, but her hand remained still. There were too many Spaniards still swarming about. It was better to bide her time and await the right moment to show itself.


~*~

I'll post the questions tomorrow! Happy reading!

Eden's Pass Contest - 2nd Verse, Same as the First

I hope you enjoyed the second excerpt from Eden's Pass, and here are the questions relating to that excerpt. Just email them to me at kimberlynee AT gmail DOT com and put Excerpt #2 in the Subject line...

1.) Where is Finn wounded

2.) What jolts Finn from her daze?

3.) How is Ennis restrained?

Good luck! =)

Just a Peek...

Here's the first of the excerpts from Eden's Pass. It isn't part of the June contest, but just a chance to give a little sneak peek!

Eden's Pass
ISBN: 1-59998-914-X
Available from Samhain Publishing
© 2008 by Kimberly Nee

Enjoy!

West Indies, 1680

"Boy!"

Finn jumped as the door slammed shut and hissed sharply as she tugged harder than she'd intended and the bandage bit into her chafed skin. Pulling her shirt down, she darted around the open wardrobe door. "Aye, Captain?"

Antoine Beauregard's eyes narrowed even as he swayed back and forth, reaching for the wall to steady himself. "Go topside. There's a ship bearin' down and refusin' to run up her colors. Get your arse up there and help Jackie."

"Aye, Captain." She wanted to reach out and steady Beauregard, but it would be pointless. She almost saw the rum fumes radiating from him. "The cannon, sir? Is that where he is?"

Beauregard let out a roar of laughter, shrugging out of his dingy red coat and letting it fall in a heap at his feet. "Aye, ye dumb jackass. The cannon, o' course! Where else would I send ye? Ye don't truly think I'd want to see ye wi' steel in yer clumsy hands, do ye?" He stomped across the cabin, trying to walk in a straight line, but failing miserably. He staggered first to the right, to his left twice over, and finally reached his destination. Dropping into his favorite chair, he groaned and sighed at the same time, his ratty, graying beard rippling as he growled, "We're almost to Port Royal. It's time for ye to prove yer mettle, boy. Lest, of course, ye wish me to find another to take me place when I retire?"

She moved away from him, in case he decided to cuff her, as was his wont. Scurrying to the door, she crouched, swiping his coat from the floor and rising to shake it out. Turning back to drape it over the other chair, she looked up to see Beauregard tug his flask from his belt and bring it to his mouth. "No, sir. I mean, aye, sir. I will show her what she faces."

Beauregard took a long swallow and lowered the flask. The grizzled iron-gray hair hiding his mouth split to reveal a yellow-toothed grin, and he heaved himself forward to clap Finn on the back hard enough to practically lift her from her feet. "There's a good lad. Now get! Let's see if yer worth yer weight, boy! Prove yer usefulness!"

Finn fought to hold her tongue as Beauregard's chin fell into his rain-barrel chest. He never failed to remind her of her place, never missed an opportunity to take a jab at her, demanding she prove her worth. It was sport for him, especially when he was drunk—which was most of the time. She could count the number of times she'd seen him sober on both hands, not that she'd complain. It made hiding the fact that she was a woman and not some stripling lad much simpler. The bargain she'd struck with him was well worth tolerating his petty insults. One day soon the Smiling Jack would be hers and she had no desire to muck it up.

"Aye, Captain." She bobbed her head as he began to snore loudly. Beauregard slept the sleep of the dead. His flask toppled onto its side at his feet, the remaining dark gold rum dripping from its neck.

Sighing with disgust, she waved him off, forgetting about him entirely as she sunk to her knees before his wardrobe and thrust her hand under the delicate arch at its bottom, reaching into the darkness beneath it. It took a moment of blind groping, but then her fingers brushed cool steel and she smiled, angling the cutlass to slide it free from its keeping place. The baldric cradling the blade was battered, but the leather was intact and she wasted no time in dropping it over her head and shifting it to hide beneath her voluminous black canvas coat.

Certain she was prepared to jump into the battle, she didn't even glance back over her shoulder, but dashed through the door and into the corridor. She would not go aid Jackie. In fact, she didn't care if the lazy sot was blasted to bits. No, she was going topside and damn anyone who thought to stop her.

She was no more than ten paces from the cabin when it seemed as though a giant had grabbed hold of the ship in its fist and gave it a thunderous shake. The Smiling Jack rattled to her timbers, lurching to port and sending Finn slamming into the wall as she hurried down the cool, shadowy corridor. She quickly regained her balance, righting herself as she mounted the steps.

Dust filtered down through the boards overhead with the thundering rattle of pounding feet. Men ran along the length of the deck, hollering back and forth as they hurried from one area to another. She sneezed, dragging the back of her hand over her sweat-dampened upper lip as she sniffed. "What the devil—?"

Who on earth would be firing on them? Beauregard said naught about having fired any shots. After all, the Smiling Jack and her lazy captain didn't often engage in battle. Especially as Beauregard was considered something of a fool by the other men who roamed the Caribbean. The Smiling Jack carried almost nothing of value, even to the most desperate of pirates. Who would bother waging battle with them?

"Beauregard would be offering a great service if he drank himself to death," she muttered, taking the remaining stairs two at a time to burst out into the brilliant sunshine and warm, velvety sea air. It was a perfect day to be at sea, if someone wasn't heaving shot in their direction.

That someone was clearly visible—a looming ketch with billowing white sails. Fire erupted below her main deck as more guns fired in their direction.

"Damnation!" She stared in horror at the devastation already wrought upon the Smiling Jack. The foremast had been split mid-shaft, crashing down to pin three men beneath it. Wood shards, iron clamps and blood now stained the deck's surface. Tattered strips of canvas—once a whole, mottled gray sail—snapped wildly in the wind.

Her gaze fell on a tall redhead with a glowing, sunburned nose. "Ennis!" she shouted, forcing her voice into the deeper timbre she'd adopted since coming aboard ship. "Who fires on us?"

Ennis hurried toward her, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. "We don't know, but what the devil are you doing up here?" He pulled up short beside her. "Where is Beauregard? Does he know you're here? He was ranting about you giving Jackie a hand down below."

She rolled her eyes. "Never you mind about Beauregard. To the devil with him. We don't need that sot's help to defend ourselves." Despite the bravado she forced into her words, she couldn't ignore the flutter of fear unfurling in her belly. It was the first time she'd ever faced the prospect of battle, as they were seldom approached. Very few captains troubled themselves with the Smiling Jack.

"That drunken fool!" he shouted over the growling blast of the guns. "You ought have hidden his blasted bottle! Rum muscle. I might have known!"

Ignoring her churning belly, she managed to scowl. "It isn't possible, keeping that man from a bottle, Ennis. I'd swear he has rum flowing in his veins." She squinted again at the ketch, closer now, and swarming with sailors. Her throat went dry. "Who started this?"

"Bloody fool thought it'd be wildly amusin', heavin' shot in their direction. Ask me, he didn't know they'd return fire!" Ennis jabbed a forefinger off the port side of the Smiling Jack. "They didn't give a warnin' or nothin'. Jus' opened fire!"

"And he calls me a blooming jackass," she retorted, wishing she had thought to swipe Beauregard's spyglass before leaving the cabin. "Can you tell what they're heavin' at us?"

Ennis looked more disgusted than concerned as he shrugged almost lazily. "I don't bloomin' know, Finn! I can't tell one blasted shot from another. All I can tell is they took out the foremast with one blow."

Around them, the Smiling Jack's crew, nearly thirty in total, ran this way and that. It was difficult to tell if they were preparing themselves to meet their attackers man to man, or if they were scurrying to save their skins. Black plumes of smoke rose in thick columns from the destroyed foremast, and a bloodcurdling scream erupted from somewhere within the cloud.

The deck lurched beneath her. Screaming like a madman, Johnny smacked into her, and then bounced off, smearing her tunic with scarlet blood. He clutched his left wrist in his right hand, shrieking in almost inhuman tones as he spun wildly around her, and disappeared back into the smoke plume. His screams died away, and her stomach twisted violently when she saw what had caused his maniacal screaming—a severed hand lay in a pool of blood beyond the smoke column.

A sickly-sweet taste flooded her mouth and her vision swam as her knees threatened to betray her. Ennis reached to steady her. "Finn?"

Before she could answer, there came another boom and a flash of fire from the side of their attacker. The ship was closer now—close enough for her to actually make out the faces of the men on her decks. Her nausea was replaced by horror. "They're going to board us!"

~*~

You Belong to Me ~ Final Excerpt!

Wow - it's hard to believe April's almost over. But all good things do come to an end, and so here is the final excerpt from You Belong to Me and the last chance to enter to win a digital copy of it, along with another book from The Wild Rose Press.

A little set up - In the last excerpt, Brenna approached Tony with a bargain - in exchange for a child, she will give him the freedom he had as a bachelor. Tony was surprisingly angered by it, but nonetheless, he agreed to it. This led to a steamy love scene, after which, Tony's anger came rushing back...

So, without further ado....

~*~

Brenna cried herself to sleep that night—the first time she’d done so since leaving Hillcrest.

After his cold words, Anthony finished dressing and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door with such force that the walls seemed to actually rattle.

By the time she’d gone to bed, he still had not returned and she was grateful for his absence. She was terrified of what else he might do in his fury, humiliated at the ease with which he could prove himself so right. She was furious as herself for her stupidity.

She woke in the middle of the night to the moaning howl of raging wind and the sheeting of freezing rain driving against the window. The cabin lurched all around her, books toppling from shelves to hit the floor with repeated thuds, each one making her jump.

She sat upright and instinctively reached for Anthony, but her fingers caught only empty space.

He had yet to return.

Kicking back the covers, she reached for her pelisse as the first flutters of fear chilled her. Why she should be frightened she didn’t know, but she couldn’t deny that it was exactly how she felt. Only her fear was not for herself. For reasons she could not explain, she was terrified that something had happened to Anthony.

“Of course, it would serve him right,” she muttered, fastening her pelisse and swinging her legs around to jam her feet into her slippers. No sooner had the words left her mouth than she felt the sting of shame. She hadn’t meant them. Not a’tall.

She wanted to go in search of him, to find him and make certain he was all right. Without stopping to think, she threw open the cabin door and stepped out into the suffocating blackness of the corridor.

The lights that normally flickered behind the glass globes had been extinguished, leaving nothing but pitch blackness pressing in on her from all sides. Still, she knew to turn right, knew the stairs were somewhere in front of her.

“Oh!” Her gasp was barely audible beneath the roar of the storm all around them, as was the crunching sound of her foot slamming into the bottommost step leading preceding that gasp.

Reaching down to rub her aching foot, she leaned against the banister, curling her fingers around it and hanging on tight as the ship gave a mighty lurch. A bolt of lightning split the blackness, lighting up the corridor as if the sun had risen for a brief second, before plunging her
back into darkness.

Wind tore through the corridor, and Brenna’s teeth rattled at the ice woven through it. The icebergs—could they be dashed up against one of those giant ice mountains? Fear mingled with her panic, and taking a deep breath, she forced herself to go topside, into the angry elements raging all around them.

The rain was like thousands of icy-hot nails piercing her skin. Her teeth set to chattering anew as, within mere seconds, she was soaked clear through to her skin. The rain froze in her hair, stung her skin, and temporarily blinded her as she emerged from the relative dryness of the staircase.

It was as if she’d stepped into a frozen hell. The wind was even more brutal topside, tossing her frost-laden hair about her face to slap and sting her like so many tiny whips. The ice in it speared through her with each breath and the rain teemed down so hard she could barely see. It was impossible to tell which roared louder—the thunder, the wind, or the angry ocean.

She forced herself to move away from the stairs and her heart skipped a beat as she saw a monstrous, whitecapped wave rise out of the blackness. It slammed up against the side of the ship, sending tongues of stark white foam licking across the deck, which was more than a little slick as the rain froze to its surface upon contact.

Brenna knew it was beyond stupid to be topside in such weather, but she had to know Anthony was all right. She had to see him for herself even as her feet slipped and skidded beneath her as she inched towards the quarterdeck.

“Anthony!” She could barely hear her shout over the cacophony all around, and through the driving rain she could see nothing but darkness upon darkness. It was almost impossible to tell what was ship and what was space.

Gathering a handful of her crunchy, icy hair, Brenna threw it away from her face, wincing as it stung her back like a lash. Cupping her hands about her mouth, she tried to shout above the wind again. “Anthony!”

Another lightning bolt streaked across the sky. The wind seemed to grow even stronger and she lost her footing as the ship gave a mighty lurch beneath her feet.

“Ah!” She hit the slick deck with a painful crash and lay there for a long moment as she fought to catch her breath. Another lurch and she shrieked as she slid across the icy surface with ease.
Right towards an opening in the railing.

She scrabbled to grab hold of something, anything, that might stop her, but there was nothing but ice and more ice. Each time she tried to stand, her feet slipped and slid across the surface, stinging her nearly to the bone. Another gasp ripped free as the ship lurched portside once more and another wave washed over the side. This time, the frigid foam fingers stung her legs, wrapping around them like death’s icy grasp, dragging her closer to the edge. The ocean seemed determined to hold her, to pull her into its deadly embrace.

“Anthony!” Her fingers caught one of the railing supports and she latched onto it, wrapping both arms around it and clinging to it as the Pegasus tilted even more sharply towards the water.

Her arms were numb with cold, her pelisse and chemise offering no protection from the frozen raindrops spearing through her. It was harder to hang on now, especially when another wave slapped up over her, washing completely over her, and tried to pry her from the post. Her legs dangled over the side of the ship, into empty space, and she fought like mad to tighten her hold.
If she let go, there would be nothing to catch her but the angry, icy sea.

****

Tony jerked hard against the wheel, shivering beneath his oilskin as the rain drove into his face. The wind stung his cheeks, his hands practically frozen into claws from holding onto the wheel.

The storm had come out of nowhere and he was grateful for the distraction. It was an outlet for the fury still burning through him—both at Brenna for her idiocy and himself for his own. It wasn’t in his nature to be so cold towards a woman, not even when she deserved it, and he was disgusted with himself for allowing that to happen with her.

The wind roared around him again, but this time he was positive he heard something else within that howl. He shook his head. My imagination’s toying with me, playing tricks on me.

But still he turned, convinced he heard his name being shouted out in a lilting Irish brogue. Then he saw her, the tiny slip of a fool he’d married. Rolling his eyes, he hissed, “Jesus. I must be dreaming.”

But he wasn’t dreaming and it wasn’t his imagination. His eyes had adjusted well enough to see the white pelisse and dark braid. Fear bit into him as the Pegasus gave a gigantic lurch and he saw his wife go sprawling across the deck’s surface…


~*~

I hope you've enjoyed reading these excerpts...

Leave a comment to enter for your chance to win! The winner will be chosen April 30!

You Belong to Me - Excerpt #5

Happy Monday!

You Belong to Me left off with the first love scene. Now, we catch up with Brenna and Tony just as she's about to offer up a suggestion to Tony that she just might come to regret....

Enjoy!

~*~

Brenna fought down the fluttery nervousness that was almost making her dizzy. It’s best to simply blurt it out, she thought, her eyes moving over him slowly. He certainly could not read her thoughts and though he seemed to have lost some of his anger, he had made no overture to bed her again, leaving her with no other choice but to swallow her embarrassment and ask.

He was reaching for the doorknob when he heard her soft, “Anthony?”

Slowly turning to face her, he said, “Yes?”

“Might I have a word with you?”

“Of course.” Anthony turned to lean back against the door, his eyes meeting hers and causing her belly to splash and toss wildly.

“There is something I wish to discuss with you,” she began in a hurried voice, trying to get the words out before her courage failed her. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“What is it?” he asked, his voice mild, almost as if he was wary at what she might say.

“I realize ours is not a typical marriage. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But there is one thing I wished to know.”

He folded his arms over his chest, his expression bland as he simply stared hard at her. “What might that be?”

“Do you...” Her voice cracked, scarlet fire burning in her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Do you wish to...that is…well...”

“What is it, my lady?”

“What I mean is—” She winced at the heat filling her face. For some reason, she hadn’t thought this would be so difficult to say aloud. “What I mean to say is that I would like a child.”

“Mine?” he asked softly.

“Well, seeing as you are my husband.”

His sigh was heavy. “I suppose that would only be proper.”

“So, I thought, mayhap...”

“You thought what, love?”

She didn’t miss the endearment, nor did she miss the sarcastic note behind it. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I thought we might...attempt...”

A slow smile pulled at his lips. Obviously, her discomfort amused him. “Attempt what, my lady?”

She glared at him. “You know what I mean.”

He unfolded his arms, walking over to place his hands on the arms of her chair. “You mean, you wish to use me—use my body, that is—for stud purposes.”

She shifted in her seat, almost squirming beneath his penetrating stare, unable to maintain eye contact. “I thought, mayhap, it would make things easier.”

“Easier? How?” His voice was a low throaty growl as he leaned close enough that his lips brushed her ear. “Tell me how it would make things easier.”

She caught her skirt between her thumb and forefinger, twisting the royal blue silk into a wrinkled ball. “If I should conceive before we reach America, then you no longer need to worry. You will be free to live your life as you see fit.”

“So you expect that I will seek out my mistress on a regular basis, then?”

Brenna swallowed hard against the lump in her throat at the thought of losing him to another woman. “Aye.”

“Seek her and not you?”

“Aye.”

He growled with frustration. “You do realize, the woman awaiting me in America fully expects to wed me, don’t you?”

“I was unaware of that.” Now at least she knew who Charlotte was.

“Oh, yes, sweet. You’ve usurped the claim of another.”

“I did no such thing.” She met his blazing gaze without hesitation. Then she ducked down once more, her voice softening. “I did no such thing. It was out of my hands.”

“Well, that is neither here nor there now,” he said, shaking his head. “But tell me, what happens, once this babe is conceived? Do you turn me away then?”

Fighting down her rising embarrassment, she whispered, “I free you to go to another. To one you’ve chosen. I do not expect you to continue this charade once we reach your home.”

“So, just so I fully understand this, Brenna,” his voice was low and icy as he held her gaze, “you wish to have access to my body, not for pleasure, not for intimacy, not for anything other than breeding purposes? Then, when you have conceived, I am free to visit as many other beds
as I wish?”

“It sounds so terrible when you say it that way,” she complained, glancing down at the twisted silk in her hands.

“It’s the truth, my lady. Whether you wish it to be prettified or not. You care naught about feeling, only the means to achieve the end.” His blunt reply sent another rush of heat streaking through her cheeks, but he didn’t relent. “So, am I correct?”

“Aye. You will be free to live your life however you see fit.”

“Very well. So pleasure, feeling, will play no role in our bedroom activities?”

Anger glinted in his blue eyes and she heard the hardness in his voice, but was a little confused as to what could be making him so angry. Wasn’t she giving him what he wanted? She was, for all purposes, releasing him from the bonds of matrimony and giving him leave to frolic with whichever woman might catch his eye. What wife would offer such a bargain to her husband?

If only she didn’t wish to have a child as badly as she did. It’d be so much easier to send him on his way without sharing that wonderful part of him which cut through her doubts and made her feel so cherished, so adored.

And what the devil did he mean about pleasure playing no role in begetting a child? How was that even possible?

Taking another deep breath, she said, “I thought the two went hand in hand.”

He smiled then—a cold smile, converting the heat in her blood to icicles. “Oh, they would, were I not merely performing an act. If it was true lovemaking, my lady, you’d never know what it would be like without pleasure. But, since you only require one thing from me, that is all you shall receive.”

She did not like the sound of that. It sounded so—so cold and remote to her. Still, he had yet to give her an answer. “Have we a bargain, then?”

Tony stared at her with hard blue eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Very well, my lady,” he said in a tight voice. “When shall we begin breeding?”

Brenna could no longer hold his eyes, they were filled with such fury. Dropping her gaze to her lap, she murmured, “I thought we might—that is, I hoped—possibly this evening?”

“Ah, you are not wasting any time, I see. Very well. If you wish, we can do it now.” He reached for the lacings at his throat. “Undress, my lady, and hope for the best.”

~*~

Leave a comment for your chance to win a digital copy of You Belong to Me along with another one of the great titles from The Wild Rose Press!

Next Monday, I'll post the sixth and final excerpt from You Belong to Me, and the last chance to enter...

You Belong to Me ~ Excerpt #4

Ahhh.... love scenes... sometimes they are the toughest part of the book to write.

This is the first love scene from You Belong to Me. Up to this point, Brenna and Tony have shared a few very chaste kisses. Now, both are having a bit of difficulty remaining distant from each other...

So, chase the kids out of the room, make sure the boss isn't looking, and enjoy!

~*~

Brenna worried her bottom lip as he folded his arms about her and she felt her gown part. The jumping in her belly grew worse, and stronger than before. Her heart seemed to be beating at twice its normal speed, and her mouth was terribly dry.

His fingers were warm against her bared skin as he gently tugged the silk from her shoulders, then reached for the ribbon holding her chemise closed. She held her breath as the gown crumpled at her feet. Fighting to keep her eyes open despite the delicious drowsiness, she
watched with fascination as he pulled at the ribbon and the linen parted easily.

Knowing Tony's blue eyes raked over her with such care, with such slowness, was enough to make her want to snatch her chemise from his hands and yank it closed. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so uncomfortable. Never in her wildest imaginings did she envision a man gazing at her with such apparent fascination.

It was impossible to miss how Tony sucked in his breath as the pale fabric slipped aside to reveal the inner curves of her breasts. He eased her chemise from her body and she wanted only to cross her arms over her chest as he gazed upon her bared flesh.

Her yelp was involuntary, his heated palm against her left breast a sudden shock to her system. Fire shot through her with that first contact and it was her turn to suck in a breath as his thumb brushed her nipple. The fire billowed with fury to send her blood bubbling, racing through her veins, filling her ears with the sudden, deafening rush and her body with a sweetly unbearable heat.

“Beautiful.” Tony's whisper rose above the pounding blood. “My lady, you are stunning.”

A flush burned in her cheeks once more as his sapphire eyes met hers. No one had ever used the words beautiful or stunning when describing her. In fact, Charles had always made certain she knew she was just the opposite—as hard on the eyes as sin itself. Still, her breath caught at his gentle caress, and then grew ragged as his eyes darkened.

Her nerves sprang to life as he fondled her breast, her discomfort becoming a distant memory at his touch. No one had ever touched her with such gentleness and wrought such havoc on her senses at the same time. The butterflies had grown into giants as their wings hammered a steady beat against her ribs.

The heat began where his flesh touched hers, spiraling through her and growing stronger. An unfamiliar tightness wound into a knot deep within her belly as he continued to caress her breast. He leaned into her to catch her lips with his, and she melted against him, her arms dangling at her sides, but her lips parting at once as he delved down to taste her. As his tongue skimmed along hers, she reciprocated, allowing hers to dance a slow, sensual beat with his.

He slid his arms about her waist, pulling her closer, groaning softly in the back of his throat as her breasts pressed into his chest. As he continued to tease her by dueling sensually with his tongue, she slowly wound her arms about his neck.

He backed her up, holding her close as he bent to gently push her down onto the bed and covered her with his body. His lips skimmed along the slope of her neck, dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat, crept down over her breastbone.

A soft growl rose in the back of his throat as he trailed his lips over the rise of her breast, but it was her turn to reciprocate the throaty purr when he then caught the nipple between his lips. Her fingernails, acting on their own, sank into his shoulders at the unexpected, delicious tingle, the sensual tightening of that nub as it pebbled beneath his caress.

“Oh, my...” she couldn’t hold back her breathless moan. The sensations tearing through her were unlike any she’d ever felt before. That heat smoldered into a fire of epic proportions, spilling through her to fill her, melding into an ache taking root deep within her core. A pleasurable ache, but an ache nonetheless, and she needed him to ease it and do so soon.

She had the wildest urge to let her fingers roam over him, to familiarize herself with his flesh and sinew. She fairly burned to trace the solid cords of his muscle, the flat planes of his body, and everything in between.

Her belly lurched as she felt his arousal. Knowing what it was, knowing what it meant, was enough to make her feel light-headed. Part of her wanted to open his breeches and explore that massive part of his body but the other part of her wanted to run and hide from him.

“Touch me, love,” he whispered, his words rough around the edges. “Let those soft, delicate hands of yours roam over my body.”

Her tongue felt thick, not wanting to obey as she forced out a throaty, “Touch you where?

“Anywhere and everywhere.”

She shuddered at the huskiness of voice, the gentleness of his kisses. “Tony?”

“What, sweet?”

“What if we...that is...” Heat filled her face, but not that same pleasant heat he stirred, but one of embarrassment. That pressure against her leg was incredible, to say the least, and she had no doubt he would rent her flesh something terrible with that hard maleness hidden beneath the fine material of his breeches.

He suddenly broke away, straightened up, unfastening the falls of his breeches. She could only pray her astonishment wasn’t apparent on her face, but she felt about to drop dead from the total shock. Her belly lurched, her mouth went as dry as dust, and she thought her eyes might pop clear from their sockets as he offered up her first look at a naked man. And what a look it was, she thought with renewed lightheadedness, her eyes involuntarily raking over him in a way that embarrassed her, but obviously amused him, judging by the slow smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, my...” she breathed again, lifting a hand to her lips as her eyes slowly moved over what he’d bared. “This is not possible...”

Tony laughed softly, much to her surprise. She’d expected him to be annoyed with her for disrupting the moment, not amused by her idiotic innocence. “Oh, it is entirely possible, love,” he corrected gently, nudging the crumpled breeches aside with his foot before stretching
out beside her. “But, mayhap we should wait a while longer.” He reached out to trail his fingers down over the curve of her belly. “For now, I will be content with holding you close until you overcome this fear you have of me.”

“I am not afraid of you,” she countered, shaking her head. “Only...parts of you...”

He grinned then, skimming his hand down lower over her belly. “Parts of me? What parts might those be?”

Damn that blasted heat in her cheeks! It gave her no peace, no ability to fool herself into thinking that mayhap she had nothing to fear. Her blushes gave away her every thought, and she knew it. “Aye. Parts of you. And you must know which I mean.”

Tony pulled her into his arms and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Well, you need not fear parts of me, either.” His lips grazed her shoulder. “As I’ve said several times, you have no need to fear me. I will never use force against you, no matter what. And most importantly, my lady, I will never assert rights that you do not wish asserted upon you.”

As he spoke, his lips crept up her neck, towards her ear. She couldn’t help her giggle at the feathery tickling against her skin. It was hard to imagine a man as large as Tony being so gentle, yet that was exactly what he was. Gentle. She barely felt his caress, but at the same time, she felt it clear through to the soles of her feet.

~*~

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Happy Reading!

Just a reminder that I'll be posting excerpts weekly for the remainder of April. =)

You Belong to Me ~ Excerpt #3!

The story up to this point: Having reached Dublin, Tony, Jackson, and Brenna have arrived at a seedy inn located in a rather rough part of the city. After a happy reunion with her mother, Brenna is back in her room, wondering what her mother has in store for her regarding having her safely married off, and as quickly as possible.

Down below, Dara McIntyre has told Tony what her plans are regarding this marriage, and Tony isn't at all happy with what those plans are...

Enjoy!

~*~

“Please, do keep your voice down!” Dara ordered in a hot whisper, frowning as she leaned over
the table towards Tony.

“You are mad, woman,” he growled, leaning in to meet her. “I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. I brought her here. That is it. I am done.”

“Do you not understand the seriousness of the situation?” she shot back, reaching over to grip his wrist. “I cannot allow her to go to that man! You saw for yourself how he will treat her, did you not?”

He shook her hand from him. “That is none of my concern now, my lady,” he replied evenly, shaking his head. “I will not be forced into a noose. I upheld my end of the bargain, as I said.”

Dara gave him a long, level look through eyes that were a much darker blue than her daughter’s. From past experiences, he had the feeling this conversation was not going to bode well for him. “I am afraid I must disagree with you, Captain Radcliffe. You are not done. Not quite
yet.”

The tightness in his chest signaled trouble. Had she been a man, Dara McIntyre would already be lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what hit her. However, he could do no more than sit and stew at her bold suggestion that he take Brenna McIntyre as his
wife. Out of the question. He did not accept the job to find a bride. He had no desire whatsoever to marry just yet. Moreover, if he was even thinking about marriage, he already had his future wife chosen and her name was not Brenna McIntyre.

“This conversation is over,” he replied stiffly, placing both hands on the table to push his chair back.

Dara's hands slapped down over his. “I think not, Captain Radcliffe, lest you wish to be explaining to the magistrate why you stole my daughter from her chambers.”

Her voice was mild, but he didn’t mistake the seriousness of her threat. Tony felt an icy chill shoot through him. “You would not dare,” he growled.

“Oh, but wouldn’t I?”

He quickly swallowed the oath bubbling to his lips, trying to swallow his irritation as easily. “And what makes you think a magistrate would believe this wild tale you intend to tell?”

“What magistrate would believe a mother would arrange for the kidnapping of her own daughter?” Dara retorted sharply. “A mite hard to swallow, don’t you think?”

He knew he didn’t stand a chance. She was right. It was madness to think that a mother would do such a thing. Still, he was not about to merely cave in and bow to her wishes. “I’ll have you know, Madam McIntyre, that I have an intended awaiting my return to the States. How am I to explain that?”

“That isn’t my concern. My concern is my daughter.” Dara sat back in her chair, her eyes holding his and her jaw set at a stubborn angle. “Her safety is my first worry and as long as she remains in Ireland, that safety is in jeopardy. I will not allow my husband or that monster to whom she’s been betrothed anywhere near her and you are going to make certain that does not happen.” She jabbed her forefinger into the scratched tabletop. “Should you choose to oppose me, you can be sure I will go to the magistrate. My husband is a powerful man, with many friends. Understand you this, I can make this happen and I will.”

Tony swore softly beneath his breath. He didn’t doubt that this woman would make good on her threats. He had no desire to land inside a jail cell. “Very well,” he said after a long pause. “I will marry her. But, know this—it will be in name only. When we reach America, I fully intend to remedy the situation.”

“Remedy the situation?”

“Do not disillusion yourself, my lady. This is no love match and I’ll not pretend otherwise. I will protect your daughter until such time as we reach New Jersey. Then, I will seek either annulment or divorce.”

“You would turn her out, in a strange land?”

Tony ignored her gasp of surprise. “I will see to it that she is taken care of, but she will live her life and I will live mine. It’s the only way I will agree to this.”

Dara frowned, her forehead creasing sharply. “I will not have my daughter live with the stigma of divorce attached to her name.”

“I can assure you, my lady, annulment will not be a problem, either. I have no intention of consummating this sham of a union. I will not be touching your daughter.” He didn’t miss the blush creeping into Dara's face. “I apologize, my lady, if I seem forward, but I just want you to know the reality of this situation. I have no interest in your daughter. I have no interest in marrying her. I am doing this strictly to preserve my neck.”


~*~

Coming Monday ~ Excerpt #4 and another chance to enter for a copy of You Belong to Me!

Happy reading!

Ooops! I Forgot...

Boy, am I a little red-faced here tonight...

It was brought to my attention that between the first and second excerpts of You Belong to Me, I failed to realize that main characters were introduced at the end of the first chapter. Sooo... for anyone reading, I'm sorry if there was any confusion as to who Tony and Jackson are. They just suddenly appeared in the second excerpt, without rhyme or reason. Say it with me now, "Bonehead!" (me).

So, to catch you up, here is a list of players from You Belong to Me ~

Brenna McIntyre - The heroine

Viscount Halstead - the villain

Tony Radcliffe - the hero. An American in Ireland looking for a bit of adventure and winding up with a lot more than he bargained for.

Jackson - Tony's best friend and his partner in crime.

Dara McIntyre - Brenna's mother

Charles McIntyre - Brenna's rotten stepfather

I think those are the only ones who we've happened across. When/if any new ones pop onto the scene, I promise this time, I'll let you know who they are...

I'll be posting the third excerpt from You Belong to Me tomorrow - so drop me a comment to enter for your chance to win April's contest! (Besides, I like getting comments. =))

Excerpt! You Belong to Me ~ Chapter Two

As promised, here is the second excerpt from You Belong to Me.

At the end of Chapter One, Brenna's been rescued from rape by Viscount Halstead, only to be kidnapped by Tony and Jackson... we catch up with her as she's being taken from her home...

Enjoy!


Brenna wanted so much to scream, but knew it would be pointless. The quilt was hot and dusty, and she thought she just might choke on the musty odor assaulting her nose. She lost track of time in that bloody quilt, listening to one of the rummage about in her wardrobe.

Then the floor fell away. From the distant sound of Jackson's voice, she knew Tony held her and did so none too gently, simply tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of wool. She didn’t know where they were going, but knew they were moving down the steps. Tony's shoulder bounced into her ribs with every step, making breathing almost impossible.

They moved without a sound, and the only way she knew they were outside was by the soft nickering of horses.

Dear Lord! They were snatching her from her home!

You ninny! she thought with a muffled groan. Why didn’t you fight back? You simply let them bind you and snatch you away, like a lamb taken off to the slaughter.

Of course, if these men were taking her on Charles’ orders, something worse than Halstead could await her. No. She’d not go quietly then. Not a’tall. Her arms trembled as she tugged and pulled at her bonds. The rope scraped her skin, burning as she twisted this way and that. It was all for naught. With her wrists tied firmly behind her back, and the quilt so tight about the rest of
her body, she couldn’t move much. As it was, she could barely breathe. Her heart hammered against her ribs, which refused to yield enough to take a deep breath, and a wave of dizziness slammed over her. Closing her eyes, she relaxed, sagging over Tony’s and prayed and prayed
she’d not lose consciousness.

~*~

Coming Friday ~ A second excerpt from Chapter Two - and another chance to enter for your chance to win!

Happy Reading!

Excerpt! You Belong to Me ~ Chapter One

Since we're already a week into April, I will post the first few excerpts this week - and then for the remainder of the month, I'll post the excerpts on Mondays...

A Little Bit About: You Belong to Me

This is the back cover blurb:

A marriage of convenience, to a man she’d only just met, was the only way to protect Brenna McIntyre from the cruel viscount determined to have her no matter what. The only problem was a most unwilling groom.

The last thing Tony Radcliffe wanted, or needed, was a wife – even if their marriage was in name only. Left without a choice, he relented, but remained determined to keep Brenna at arm’s length.

The journey from Ireland to America sparks a desire neither had expected, and one too powerful to ignore, even as the shadow of Brenna's past threatens the peace she’s found in Tony's arms.
~*~

Chapter One (excerpt)

Ireland, 1789

Nothing made Brenna McIntyre jump quite as badly as the short, no-nonsense rap she heard against the oak door of her chambers. That knock meant only one thing. Charles McIntyre stood on the opposite side of the threshold, and their meeting would not end well for her.

“Open the door, git.” Charles’s voice, deep and cold, like the black waters of a bottomless river, was soft but by no means gentle. In fact, when his wife was not around,
he made no attempt a’tall to hide his dislike for his stepdaughter.

Brenna stared at the door, wondering if she dared ignore his command. It mattered not whether she obeyed or disobeyed. He would still discipline her, as he preferred to call it. And according to him, she was constantly in need of discipline. She was a disgrace, a harlot, reveling
in the attentions of the men and boys whose paths she crossed, and it was his duty as her father to correct each fault. Especially, as he so often pointed out, if he ever hoped to marry her off.

He knocked again, louder this time. “I said, open up. Do so at once!”

She sighed softly, setting her book aside, and rose slowly from the comfortable chair in the corner where she had been enjoying a pleasant hour. She smoothed the wrinkles from the skirt of her emerald green silk gown, lest Charles see them and discipline her for allowing her
clothes to become what he considered shabby.

The uneven floorboards beneath her feet creaked with each step. However, the key turned without protest, as the lock on her door was kept well oiled. Brenna fought to control the quiver in her hand as she twisted the knob and opened the door.

“Moving a bit slow this eve?” Charles sneered, his dark gray eyes slivers of coal-infused ice as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

She stepped back. “My foot had fallen asleep,” she explained, making certain she kept her voice appropriately meek and quiet. “I did not wish to fall.”

“I see.” He continued to stare her down, arms folded over his narrow chest. He was a deceptive, slender man, but she knew from experience that a blow from him packed the strength of a man twice his size.

She stood there, her belly twisting into knots that made breathing most difficult. Charles did not seem particularly troubled and this was the mood she most feared. At least when he was angry,his attacks were not surprises. However, this calm demeanor could mean anything.

Lifting her eyes to his, she said, “Did you need me for something, Father?”

His stare raked her from head to toe. “You’ll need to dress appropriately for supper this evening. I suggest the dark orange dress I brought from Dublin.”

Brenna swallowed the flinch rising to her lips. The burnt orange silk and taffeta gown he’d brought her was one of the ugliest garments she’d ever seen, buried beneath yards of unfashionable, stiff ivory lace, and more bows than she would have thought possible to stitch onto a gown. Fortunately, it wasn’t often she was told how to dress, and therefore could forget about it.

“Aye, Father,” she replied, casting her gaze to the bare floor. The scuffed and scratched oak offered little warmth in the cold and withheld heat in the summer. Thankfully, it was a crisp September day, so the floor was neither too warm nor too cold.

“Are you not even the least bit curious as to why I wish you to dress in your finest?”

She forced herself to meet his cool gaze. “I must admit, I am a mite curious, sir.”

An equally chilly grin lifted the corners of his thin mouth. “At last I have found the man to take your ungrateful hide from beneath my roof.”

~*~

Don't forget to enter for your chance to win an electronic copy of You Belong to Me, as well as a second title fro The Wild Rose Press - All you have to do is leave a comment to enter!

Happy reading!

Coming Wednesday ~ Chapter Two excerpt (and another chance to enter!)