For nearly a decade, Drake Ramsey, the disciplined and logical Earl of Saint Brides, has been the driving force behind the Home Office; meeting with foreign leaders to negotiate treaties, spurring a lethargic Parliament into action, and directing a secret army of spies. The last thing he wants to find while taking a well-deserved vacation is a dangerous fugitive. Nevertheless, when he catches a beautiful murderess hiding in his hunting cabin, he has little choice but to bring her to justice, landing himself in a battle for control he could never hope to win.
…meets a woman determined to prove him wrong.
Marrying a stranger simply to gain access to her dowry and travel the world, admittedly, was the biggest mistake of Sarah Tindall’s life. In fact, she would readily admit to making several big mistakes. Killing her husband, however, is not one of them. When a starchy lord takes it upon himself to bring her to a London prison, she is determined to escape him and prove her innocence, yet every attempt ends with her back in her handsome captor’s arms. Even if her innocence is proven, his forbidden and passionate kisses leave her uncertain if escape was ever an option.
**Can easily be read as a standalone!**
“You will what, exactly?” he asked, standing directly in front of her. He bent down, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of her, lowering his face mere inches from hers. “Will you shoot me, Sarah?”
She stared back in shock. She could almost taste her name on his lips and feel the roughness of his voice as the syllables rolled off his tongue like a caress. The taste of danger, of touchable power, was almost too tempting to ignore. With it swirled a completely alien feeling in her gut. It burned in her belly and tingled over her skin.
He leaned in, forcing her farther back on the bed. The hint of cologne he had worn the day before mixed with the heady scent that was uniquely him, surrounded her. Eyes that were far too green bore into hers, intelligent eyes with a challenge looming behind them. His square, stubble-covered jaw matched the tousled tuffs of chestnut falling over his forehead and the dark slashes above his eyes.
She remembered how easily he had carried her more than two miles and what he had done to the blacksmith, but his mind was just as threatening as his body. Now both of them were focused solely on her. It thrilled and frightened her, and in that moment, she realized how truly dangerous the man could be.
“Well?” he murmured, his breath caressing her lips.
“I haven’t a gun at the moment.” Her voice trembled.
His mouth twitched. “Of course not. What sort of stuffy, self-important lord would I be if I went around handing out pistols to every violent American I met?”
Sarah scowled. “You are laughing at me again.”
When his glittering eyes roamed her face, it was as though the shutter had finally opened, exposing the roaring fire beneath. A fire unlike anything she had ever seen. It left a trail of heat across her skin, and deeper. She felt it twist and burn inside her, as though her soul was responding to his.
“I have never laughed at you,” he murmured, the low timbre like warm sherry.
Kristen McLean is a regency-era romance novelist with a flair for humor and suspense. She has always had a love of novels, with a special place in her heart for historical romance. Now she has the pleasure of writing at home, tucked away in a forest with her husband, two children, and their cat. Her husband is loving and impressively patient, their two beautiful children strive to embarrass and exhaust her, and the cat hates everyone, but tolerates—well, she tolerates whoever will feed her.
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