Highland gypsy Tasara, has no use for aristocrats. She especially doesn’t like the arrogant nobleman who rescued her and tried to steal a kiss in the process. No good can come from spending time with him—distractingly handsome though he may be. But everything changes when she learns she’s actually Alexandra Atterberry, a long-lost heiress. Now, she must take her proper place in a society she wants no part of, amidst jealous people who might very well be plotting her demise. Perhaps she has use for her roguish rescuer after all…
Lucan, Duke of Harcourt, promised his ailing mother he’d find a suitable wife by Christmas. But the feisty, knife-wielding Scottish Highland lass he rescued? Tasara isn’t at all suitable. However, she is everything he could ever want in a bride—and the simpering ladies of the haut ton pale in comparison. All he has to do is help Alexa overcome her aversion to the English, the nobility, and most of all, him.
With danger and intrigue plaguing their every move, can these two polar opposites find common ground on the road to happily ever after?
Genre: FICTION / Romance / HistoricalThe Romance Reviews Top Pick
A click announced the lock giving way.
Creaking on unoiled hinges, the door edged open, inch-by-cautious-inch, and as it did, the brutal sounds from below filtered into the chamber. Light from the corridor’s brackets illumined a sinister, black-clad form.
A disheveled man paused at the threshold, his coat unbuttoned and a pistol protruding from his waistband. In one hand, he held a sword at the ready, and in the other, he brandished a dirk. Legs braced, he stood at the entrance like a buccaneer balancing atop a ship’s deck.
A pirate in the Scottish Highlands?
She blinked, slapping aside the ridiculous notion. Lack of food and sleep made her imagination run amuck.
For a tormenting instant, Tasara feared the ethereal body Satan himself, except she doubted the devil possessed pale blond hair and required blades to inflict mortal damage.
Fallen angel seemed more apt for the apparition illumined within the doorway.
She strained to see the man’s face. The dim interior hid his features except for a well-defined profile and a strong jawline. Evil men weren’t supposed to be attractive.
Stance wide, and her hand lifted to bury her knife, she waited for the intruder to move away from the door’s protection.
She must defend the children, no matter the cost.
“Tathara?” Lala’s plaintive cry filled the chamber. “Piuthar, where be ye?”
The man’s head whipped toward the bed.
The bedding rustled, and a tear-logged voice whimpered, “Me be ascared. I hearded screaming.”
Advancing farther into the room, the intruder looked this way and that. Light from the passageway spilled across the threshold but failed to reach the bed or the room’s outer edges.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Regiane Moreira
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Spanish
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Unavailable for translation.
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