After inheriting a small fortune, Willow Perry has everything she’s ever wanted. Except a husband, that is. But not just any husband will do. She’s looking for a grand love—someone who will challenge and excite her. It’s just her folly that the one man who interests her is a notorious rake. He’s as wild and passionate as Willow is sheltered and staid. Love between such polar opposites would be impossible … wouldn’t it?
Abraham Blackwood has devoted his life to the pursuit of pleasure. He’s perfectly happy to run his gaming den and ignore the expectations of society. But meeting the lovely Willow gives him another goal. Revenge. Making her pay for the sins her family committed against his will be easy. Ignoring how much he wants her—not only beneath him, but at his side, forever? That might prove to be infinitely more difficult.
When Willow discovers Abraham’s true intentions, can the fragile bonds they’ve begun to form survive? Or will the cards remain firmly stacked against their happily ever after?
1826 London
Willow raced up her aunt's stairs, having been summoned back from her daily ride at Hyde Park. Sweat pooled on her brow, and she could feel it running down the line of her back beneath her gown. It was too soon. This day could not be the end of her aunt.
She ran as fast as her riding ensemble would allow and pushed open her aunt's bedroom door, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of her lady’s maid, the butler, and housekeeper, all of their faces masks of pity and sadness.
"Auntie?" She came and sat on the bed beside her, reaching for her hands. They were cold and limp in hers, and Willow squeezed them a little, needing to rouse her, keep her with her for just a bit of time longer.
"I'm still here, my child. I waited for you."
Tears pooled in Willow's eyes, and she clasped her aunt, her only family left in the world into an embrace, her throat as raw as if a hot poker had pierced her there, making each breath painful and hard.
"I'm so sorry. I went riding. I did not know that you were so poorly."
Her aunt shushed her, the action bringing on another bout of coughs that wheezed and rattled her chest. The hack sounded painful, and if her aunt’s grimace each time she coughed was any indication, the infection was causing discomfort.
"I want you to go riding, even when I'm gone. You will have more time on your hands then. You won't have to trundle after me anymore."
That may be so, but Willow would have to trundle after someone. When her aunt passed, she would need to find employment, and soon. The thought brought her no pleasure, and her stomach churned at the prospect she would not find work. Not that her friends would leave her out on the street, but they had their own lives now, families to take care of, they did not need a friend latching on to them for charity.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Evelyn T M Martins
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Author review: Fantastic translation. Highly recommend. |
