Part Romani, noblewoman Evangeline Caruthers is the last woman in England Ian Hamilton, the Viscount Warrick, could ever love—an immoral wanton responsible for his brother’s and father’s deaths.
Vangie thinks Ian’s a foul-tempered blackguard, who after setting out to cause her downfall, finds himself forced to marry her—snared in the trap of his own making. When Vangie learns the marriage ceremony itself may have been a ruse, she flees to her gypsy relatives, declaring herself divorced from Ian under Romani law. He pursues her to the gypsy encampment, and when the handsome gypsy king offers to take Ian’s place in Vangie’s bed, jealousy stirs hot and dangerous.
Under a balmy starlit sky, Ian and Vangie breech the chasm separating them, yet peril lurks. Ian is the last in his family line, and his stepmother is determined to dispose of the newlyweds so her daughter can inherit his estate. Only by trusting each other can Ian and Vangie overcome scandal and murderous betrayal.
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Historical*2013 Sneak Peek Contest Historical and Grand Prize Winner*
*2014 RONE Nominee*
*Amazon Kindle Bestseller*
Noticing the numerous pairs of eyes watching him escort Miss Caruthers onto the polished floor, a wry smile touched Ian’s lips.
“I haven’t danced with any other ladies this evening. No doubt the rumormongers are hissing envious conjectures as to why I’ve asked you.”
She shot him a startled look before glancing around the ballroom.
“Why did you?”
“To see if what I’d heard was true.”
Ian watched for a reaction.
She opened her mouth then closed it. They waltzed around the dance floor for a few moments in silence. The string quartet was quite satisfactory. Ian allowed the lilting strains to soothe his troubled spirit.
“What did you hear?”
Miss Caruthers’s soft question reminded him of his purpose.
“That you are an excellent dancer.”
It was true. She moved with natural grace, following his lead, all the while holding herself in a most proper stance. He had to acknowledge she was a superb actress. Her gaze remained fixated on a spot above his left shoulder, except for one brief instance when she’d flicked her cobalt-blue gaze upward and unintentionally met his eyes.
“Is that all?” she asked softly.
He’d never seen eyes such a dark blue before. “All?”
“You’ve heard nothing else about me?
Her eyes held the perfect combination of trust and innocent curiosity. So convincing was she, that when their gazes fused, a peculiar jolt stabbed the center of his being.
What was it?
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Bianca Rita Cataldi
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Spanish
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Unavailable for translation.
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