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Deception, Danger and Redemption + Giveaway
By Beverley Eikli aka Beverley Oakley
Hard cover, left; paperback, right
Dangerous Liaisons with its irresistibly fiendish John Malcovich was one of my favourite movies of the 1980s and the inspiration behind my latest Beverley Eikli Regency Romantic Intrigue, A Little Deception which was shortlisted for Favourite Historical Romance of 2011 by Australian Romance Readers.
Caught up in a web of deceit after an innocent charade designed to salvage the family fortune, my heroine, and hitherto confirmed spinster, Rose Chesterfield finds herself married to the man of her dreams.
I guess I’ve always felt more confident dressed in masquerade where, at parties, I can pretend to be someone else. So it was easy to imbue my heroine with a confidence that made her appear far more beautiful and therefore desirable to my rakish hero, Lord Rampton.
Surprisingly, though, he’s rather delighted by the turn of events, even though he’d intended to make Rose his mistress rather than his wife. It’s the wicked machinations of Rose’s unhappily married sister-in-law, Helena, that threatens Rose’s newfound happiness.
For Helena blames Rose for having no choice but to marry Rose’s brother, the rather milk-soppish Charles. Rose, however, is entirely ignorant of the tragic chain of events which blighted Helena’s life and forced her to accept a man she did not love. Nor does she have any idea of the extent of Helena’s hatred and the fact that she intends that Rose will pay for Helena’s lack of happiness by sacrificing her own.
I enjoyed creating this unlikely love affair between Rose and Rampton, then complicating their romance with layers of intrigue before delivering justice to a range of characters.
Here’s a short extract.
The following scene takes place as Lord Rampton cynically contemplates Rose’s inevitable demands after the two of them have been discovered in a compromising situation in his bedchamber by Rose’s brother.
‘MISS CHESTERFIELD.’ Miss Chesterfield. The name should have provoked rage; instead, Rampton was dismayed by a surge of feeling that was so far from rage as to render him no better than a drooling schoolboy when confronted with the object of his adolescent obsession.
‘Show her in,’ he said, struggling for the self-possession that had always been second nature to him and tossing aside the reading matter that had failed to engage his attention for the past hour.
So, she had come to state her terms.
Having been caught well and truly in flagrante delicto, he accepted he had no one but himself to blame. Experience with women had tuned his antennae finely when it came to sensing all manner of ruses calculated to inveigle him into matrimony. But Lady Chesterfield – Miss Chesterfield, as it turned out – had slipped entirely under his guard.
Stonily he faced the door while he waited for her to enter, the events of the past week flashing through his mind. For twenty-four hours after she’d been hauled off by her brother, Rampton had paced his study like a caged lion, fuelling his anger with the multiple lies and untruths she’d fed him as he tried to relive exactly the moment at which he should have become aware of her deception. Any half-intelligent man would have sensed that not all was as it seemed at the very outset, he told himself.
Cynically, he had waited for Miss Chesterfield to call and negotiate the terms of his matrimonial incarceration. He had practised all manner of snide and ironic responses, while his anticipation at seeing her again had grown steadily more unbearable.
He wanted only to tell her what he thought of her.
So he assumed.
But she had not come, and that had been worse.
After three days he’d snapped. Arriving unannounced, he had confronted a pale and patently uncomfortable Sir Charles in his study and stonily dictated the terms of a marriage contract. He was a man of honour and he had compromised a lady. She was the clear victor in their final round; she had more than just pinked him. Now he must pay the price.
Rampton had been prepared for a rambling defence from Sir Charles of his sister’s behaviour. And, if Sir Charles were in a robust mood, perhaps a healthy lashing of recrimination for Rampton.
But when the young baronet said only that his sister did not wish to marry him Rampton was at last moved to anger.
‘Doing it too brown, sir!’ he declared. ‘She engineered that little scene so that I’d have no choice but to suffer her joy as she leg-shackled me on her triumphant progress towards the altar!’
Sir Charles, looking white around the gills, concurred miserably, ‘I know, I know. But she’s made me tell you, expressly, my lord, that she has no intention of holding you to marriage. That, in fact, she does not desire it.’
‘Does not desire it?’
He could not believe it. It was all part of the charade. There was a trick involved somewhere, though he could not see it.
Not want to marry him?
Why, every unmarried female participating in the social whirligig was there because she wanted to get married and most of them saw waltzing off with him as the ultimate feather in their caps.
Not want to marry him? When she’d gone to such pains to ensure him?
The very notion was preposterous.
He would not believe it.
ENDS
Thank you for dropping by. Since A Little Deception was first published I’ve revised the book extensively. Initially it was published in hard cover by Robert Hale, then when I got my rights back I added a further 15,000 words and republished. I then did a further revision, which you can now find here:
And you can find out more about my other Regency Intrigues or intense, emotional and sensual historicals published under my Beverley Oakley name on my Website.
I’m also running a giveaway with a prize of a copy of any of backlist under either of my names for a random commenter.
A Gothic Romance about a Wayward Governess Whose Deception Plunges Her Into Danger.
By Beverley Eikli aka Beverley Oakley
Hi everyone,
I hope you’re all enjoying the party. Here in Australia the weather has suddenly gone from extremely hot with bush fire warnings all over the place to cold and rainy. I’m enjoying my lazy Sunday morning drinking tea and watching the rain lashing the swimming pool.
I’m sure you all recognise that some of your favourite authors have their own favourite themes and certainly one of my favourite themes is deception followed by redemption. I love adding lashings of intrigue to my romances and having a character embark upon a deception for one pure motive only to find things gets complicated and she must, against her will, embark upon a quest that will result in her redemption. There’s always a roller-coaster ending with lots of danger and I like it when reviewers tell me they couldn’t put the second half of the book down.
So that’s how it seems to be. I like to set the scene with the suspense gradually building until it all becomes a mad race in the second half.
Lady Sarah’s Redemption, which is on sale at Amazon for only 99c, is about a spoiled heiress who takes on the identity of a drowned governess in order to escape the marriage her father has arranged for her to her best friend and neighboring landowner, James.
It pits a feisty, determined and decidedly spoiled society beauty (who’s in the guise of a dowdy governess) against a moral, upright Member of Parliament whose aim is to redress the ills of society. My heroine, Sarah, has no concept that there is anything wrong with society in 1818, when all she’s interested in is clothes and having fun.
Her beloved father is on the opposing side of parliament and as she finds herself drawn to her severe but enigmatic ‘employer’, Roland Hawthorne, she’s shocked to learn that her father and Roland once fought a duel over their political beliefs.
Surprisingly, Sarah finds herself forming a bond with Roland’s teenage daughter, Caro, her new charge. She sets about changing the plain and prickly young girl and in the process both young women discover there are half measures in their firmly held attitudes on life.
When Caro is kidnapped – and the mystery of the ‘dead’ governess comes back to haunt them all – Sarah finds that her actions have plunged them all in danger. Now she must embark upon a race against time to redeem herself and prove to Roland that she is worth loving after all.
Here’s a tiny excerpt, just to get an idea of some of the characters:
The following occurs during a tense dinner when Sarah, the spoiled heiress, is still parading as the lowly governess.
Mrs Hawthorne snapped her head around and looked at Sarah as if she had suggested they open their doors to the starving masses, and serve them, personally. “I do not believe, Miss Morecroft,” she said in clipped tones, “that your opinion was solicited.”
This had the opposite effect of dampening Sarah’s defence. “I deplore injustice as strongly as you,” she bit back. “Caro said nothing to warrant her father’s criticism. It was unjust to accuse her of selfishness when she is naturally excited about her ball tomorrow night.”
“Injustice!” Mrs. Hawthorne cried. “You accuse my brother-in-law of injustice when I can think of no other man who has expended more time and energy fighting for the rights of the working man. With an agitated hand she repositioned her vermilion toque which was favouring one ear, and nearly dislodged the squirrel’s tail hair piece. For once, Sarah was in no danger of succumbing to unwise giggles. Caro had started to cry. Though no tears came Sarah could see the trembling of her thin, white muslin-clad shoulders. She turned to Mr Hawthorne. Surely he knew he was in the wrong?
He was staring at the silver epergne centre piece, clearly resolved to have no part of the argument. Anger seared through her.
“How dare you answer back to your betters!” cried Mrs Hawthorne. “Leave the table at once, Miss Morecroft.”
With a cold, hard stare at her employers, Sarah rose. “I am sorry if the truth offends you,” she said with quiet dignity. Passing close to the back of Mr Hawthorne’s chair as she made her regal exit she hoped he could feel her anger.
He had been vastly unjust. Surely he must realize it.
Then she heard his voice, music to her ears, despite its arctic tone. “Wait for me in my study, Miss Morecroft. I will see you there when I’ve finished my dinner.”
ENDS
I hope you’re all having fun. I hope I see some of you at the RT convention in Kansas City, too. I’m jetting from Australia to attend my first and will be there as an Ellora’s Cave author, a Total-e-Bound author and a Choc-Lit author. I can’t wait!
Lady Sarah’s Redemption is on sale for only 99c at Amazon.
And you can read more about my other Historical Romance Intrigues and my Sinful Historicals on my website.
Saving Grace Excerpt (and giveaway prize)
BY BEVERLEY OAKLEY
Hi everyone,
I’ve always been fascinated by the Victorian London underworld. As a history major I became utterly absorbed by society’s extremes and read countless social histories and contemporary analyses on society’s ills. Most of these ills were the result of the fact there was no safety net. The average working woman did not earn enough to support herself and many hardworking girls had the choice of starving or resorting to prostitution on the side. It certainly was a hypocritical society.
So this is the backdrop for my intense, very short novella, Saving Grace, which has had wonderful reviews, some of which I’ve posted below the extract.
The story is only 99c from Amazon, Kobo, B&N and iBooks and I’m offering a giveaway of one of my backlist from a random commenter.
OK, so here’s the extract:
SAVING GRACE
London, 1878
Reclining on the red plush sofa, Grace sipped the sickly sweet orgeat Madame Chambon insisted her girls drink and tried not to think about the night ahead. The others were gathered in companionable groups on the fashionable Egyptian sofas, their heavy scent perfuming the air.
As usual, no one gravitated towards her, though of course later, when their clients came calling, that would no longer be the case. Grace would have preferred the company of a like-minded female rather than the alternative.
An expectant hush fell as the heavy draped and tasselled curtain was drawn aside and Madame Chambon arranged herself theatrically in the opening, ready to address her petites choux.
“Ravissement!” she complimented them in thickly accented English, clapping her hands. Grace suspected the elegantly ravaged Madame came from Lambeth rather than the Left Bank. Not that it mattered. No one in this business was who they said they were.
Least of all, Grace.
The girls, awed and anxious, straightened their rich, colourful gowns nervously. Despite her appearance of bonhomie Madame Chambon could turn on a coin. And it was she who ensured the girls did not return to where most of them had been plucked from—the gutter.
“A great opportunity awaits one of you tomorrow,” she addressed them, “for I have just been honoured by the visit of a woman of great discernment …”
A couple of the girls tittered. “A woman?”
They closed their mouths at Madame Chambon’s beady stare, attending as she went on, “Who has requested I supply her with one of my loveliest …”
She drew out the pause as several of the brothel’s most popular young ladies preened. “… most hard-hearted girls.”
All heads turned towards Grace. She blinked. Is that how they regarded her? Hard- hearted?
She simply had nothing left to offer anyone once she’d earned enough to pay her keep and just survive.
Madame Chambon levelled her expectant look upon Grace, whose mouth dropped open in protest. “A woman? But—”
“The woman wants to give her son a present to remember for his twenty-first birthday. She is obviously a very fond mother—” Madame Chambon allowed herself to share the girls’ amusement, adding, “with very good sense in choosing our select establishment to provide him with the very best initiation—” Her smile grew cloying as she continued to look at Grace—“without fear of him being lured into a transfer of affections amidst all the other … ahem … transfers that take place.” Though she made a gesture with her hands to indicate the transfer of money, the girls tittered at the double entendre.
The redhead closest to Grace dug her friend in the ribs. “Grace doesn’t have a heart to lose.” Her whisper resonated.
Nor did Grace have the heart to participate in the banter that followed.
So what if she’d been selected? It was just another job and a good thing she need not worry about eliciting the emotions of a twenty-one-year-old virgin. Pleasing, also, was the knowledge that it would inevitably be over in less than five minutes.
BACK TO SINFUL
REVIEWS
5.0 out of 5 stars
A surprising little story 4 1/2 stars January 3, 2013
By Fiona
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
I am working my way through the Hot Down Under short story series and this was a lovely little historical amidst the more contemporary works. The story of a tragic romance between a high born young man and the maid that is his soul mate is beautifully told. Grace suffered a fall from grace when her beloved David’s mother and cousin conspired to tear them apart. Three years later, on his 21st birthday the innocent young man is confronted by a fallen woman who reminds him of his lost love.
REVIEWS:
This is quite a sweet story, despite the fairly high level of explicitness required for an encounter between a courtesan and the young man she is to instruct. The stories of the two young lovers in the years they are apart are heartbreaking. The ending is satisfying in spite of the limited nature of the story length.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Historical and hot January 3, 2013
By Rhyll Biest
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
A well-written and sensual read and I enjoyed the novelty of reading about a male virgin hero. Those into historical romance will appreciate the attention to historical detail.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Beautifully sensual January 1, 2013
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
This is a gorgeous story, told in a most sensual style. Grace is strong, dignified and a truly worthy heroine. David is is unexpectedly strong, and an honest man – in a time when many of the richest men were not. Two people worthy of love, have a chance to find it… but they’re taken to the depths of despair first.
Beverley Oakley is a beautiful writer and story teller. I’ll be looking for more of her work.
ENDS
Thank you, everyone, for dropping by.
You can find out more by visiting my ‘Sinful’ page at http://www.beverleyoakley.com
Sixty Aussie Authors at the Australian Romance Readers Convention… plus more
BY BEVERLEY EIKLI aka BEVERLEY OAKLEY
Sometimes I have to pinch myself to check that all these wonderful things are really happening to me. I’ve had such a good few months, first winning award-winning UK publisher Choc-Lit’s Search for an Australian Star competition, and then being shortlisted by Australian Romance Readers’ Association for Favourite Historical Romance in 2012 (for the second time in a row) for my wicked little Regency wtih a sting in the tale, Rake’s Honour.
60 Aussie authors at ARRC. I’m in orange in back row.
I went to Brisbane for the convention and the awards dinner and it was just fantastic. Above is a picture of the 60 Aussie Authors. (I’m the one in the orange dress in the back row, left.)
My Racy Regency romp, Rake’s Honour, didn’t win – the award went to popular Aussie romance author Anna Campbell (for the fifth time), a deserving and long-time friend of mine – but I still had heaps of fun.
The weekend event was held at Brisbane’s Mercure Hotel and it was great to catch up with my fellow Total-e-Bound authors, my fellow Ellora’s Cave Authors and as the inaugural Choc-Lit author.
Anyway, below, I’ve included a couple of pictures, both of my ARRA shortlisted book, Rake’s Honour, written under my Beverley Oakley pseudonym and my Choc-Lit dramatic and sweeping romance, The Reluctant Bride, written under my Beverley Eikli name. (I’ve also had to include a little pic of my book which released yesterday, Her Gilded Prison, which I posted about earlier.)
THE RELUCTANT BRIDE
Can Honour and Action Banish the Shadow of Old Sins?
That’s the question posed in my upcoming September 2013 release, The Reluctant Bride, which won award-winning UK Publisher Choc-Lit’s Search for an Australian Star Competition.
For Emily Micklen, marriage to taciturn war hero Major Angus McCartney will salvage family honour.
But while Angus may have won his heart’s desire, the ghost of his dead mistress is only one of the secrets that may divide them forever.
The Reluctant Bride is set between the French Revolution and four years after the 1809 Battle of Corunna, a pivotal event in the story.
I’ve written a very different story in Rake’s Honour where my heroine Fanny Brightwell is gripping onto the bottom rung of society’s social ladder, determined she’s not going to be flung to the wolves, ie, the lecherous Lord Slyther who wants her for his second wife. The story follows her adventures and her cunning and unusual plan to land herself the man of her dreams.
Rake’s Honour
Here are a couple of reviews:
Publisher: Total E Bound Reviewer: Barbara McCormick
Rating: 5 Stars
Heat Level: O
Fanny Brightwell must find a husband or be married off to the odious Lord Slyther. Her first attempt at doing so leads her into a compromising position, from which she is rescued by the dangerous rogue Viscount Fenton. Fenton discovers that the memory of Fanny’s kisses haunt him. The two meet at a ball and have an unexpectedly passionate encounter. Afterward, Fenton offers to set her up as his mistress. Since her family’s fortunes rest on her ability to marry well, Fanny must take control of the situation.
The characters in Rake’s Honour, a Regency romance, leap off the page and into the reader’s heart. Fanny is well aware of her obligations to her family, yet yearns to find a husband she can love. Fenton has outgrown his childish excesses and is ready to settle down with a wife. The heat between these two practically sets fire to the pages, a mean trick for an e-book! Ms. Oakley brings the setting and time period to life without lengthy descriptions of society’s strict rules. The sex, oh my goodness, the sex is hot and in unusual settings as Fenton and Fanny must hide what they are up to from the eyes of judgmental society.
Supporting characters like Fanny’s younger sister and her friend and confidante, Lord Quamby, bring added life to a lush story. The pacing is just perfect, keeping you in your chair reading right through to the end. The “mamas” are ever present, placing demands on their children to marry well for family’s sake. In the end, Rake’s Honour is about satisfying society’s demands while still finding ways to remain true to oneself and one’s heart. For these reasons, Rake’s Honour earns an honored spot on my re-read stack.
BookedUp Reviews gave me – 5 Stars
Reviewer: Dolce Amore
I usually don’t like to read too many historical books because I find them boring, unreal, or full of errors. But this one was wonderful!
Miss Fanny Brightwell has to marry a rich man because her father lost everything before he died. When Alverley, the man Miss Fanny hoped to marry tells her that he wants her just as his mistress, she is devastated; that means that she’ll have to marry the pestilential Lord Slyther, but that night she meets Viscount Fenton.
At first, Lord Fenton wants to marry her… however, after some lies by a jealous man and some misunderstandings he believes that Miss Fanny was a consummate lover and he offers carte blanche instead.
What a splendid book! I loved every moment of it. Ms. Beverley Oakley created an original and amazing plot. She keeps our attention through the whole book. And the characters… what can I say? Outstanding! I loved Miss Fanny and adore Lord Fenton. I enjoyed their misunderstanding and I was delighted by their torrid and passionate meetings. And the end… made me burst out laughing. It rocks!
5 stars for her and I can hardly wait to read her new release… Ms. Beverley Oakley, I’m not above begging for more! I expect I won’t have to wait too much longer for it, you are now one of my favorite writers.
Publisher: Total E-Bound
Review Courtesy Of: ManicReaders
Posted by Booked UP
Rachel Randall‘s review
Rake’s Honour takes the ballroom historical a naughty step further, reimagining the traditional scenario of the dutiful daughter saving her family through an unappealing marriage to appeal to readers who enjoy more smut as sweetener to their Almack’s lemonade.
The characters are at the forefront of the story, and I soon found myself drawn into the extremes of their desires. Fanny is unrepentantly lusty, and likeable because of it. She’s torn between familial duty and her own raging hormones, something I think we can all sympathise with! Lord Slyther is fabulously odious as a pantomime villain, and the rapturous horror Fanny finds in him juxtaposes well against the desire she has her Rake.
And ahhh, her Rake, the delectable Lord Fenton. Muscular, passionate, possessing of a good fortune and a healthy appreciation for Fanny’s breasts and creamy thighs. When he wants Fanny, you do too; and when they give in to their hunger for each other, well, let’s say there’s no question their marriage will have (many) happy endings.
Rakes Honour gives good, rollicking historical.
You can buy Rake’s Honour here.
You can buy Her Gilded Prison at Ellora’s Cave
and read more about everything else here:
www.facebook/AuthorBeverleyOakley
http://beverleyeikli.blogspot.com
https://twitter.com/#!/BeverleyOakley
Thanks so much for visiting. I’d love it if you could ‘like’ my author page. Otherwise, just have fun browsing around.
Have a great day everyone!
Beverley
HER GILDED PRISON HAS *JUST* RELEASED
BY BEVERLEY OAKLEY
Well, this is very exciting… my first Ellora’s Cave release has JUST released, as in minutes ago by the look of it.
Her Gilded Prison is an intense, passionate Regency Historical of forbidden love between an older woman and a younger man. I adored writing as it just seemed to write itself. My young hero, 24-year-old Stephen Cranbourne, is just like many randy young men when he sets off on his journey as heir apparent to Viscount Partington and his large estate.
En route he’s seduced by a scheming fortune hunter who tricks him into a wager over some mating spiders. It’s a wager that comes back to haunt him some time after he’s ensconced in his new life, setting the hearts aflutter of Lord and Lady Partington’s two daughters: vain and dazzling Araminta and plain, sweet-natured Hetty.
In the meantime, though, cabbage-headed Edgar, the former heir to the estate, returns from the battle-field. Presumed dead, he has in fact deserted.
Now Lord and Lady Partington will do anything to ensure that Edgar, their clodpole of a nephew, never inherits the estate.
In his wildest dreams, Stephen Cranbourne never imagined his duties would be so diverse.
Below I’ve included the first couple of pages as an excerpt. I hope you like it.
HER GILDED PRISON EXCERPT
The three men were on their knees, heads craned forward, eyes fixed with prurient interest on the amorous adventure playing out on the gossamer web before them.
“He’s launching in, for God’s sake! Dipping his wick—if you could only see it! Look at him.” The young Earl of Barston’s breath was hot on Stephen’s arm, his gaze rapt as he asked in an excited whispered, “She’ll kill him for it?”
Stephen’s host, Sir Archie Ledger, laughed coarsely. “You say he knows his reward is death?” The young baronet jostled his companions for a better look and his eyes bulged with excitement. He twisted his head to dart a glance at his wife who sat calmly embroidering at the far end of the drawing room, before adding under his breath, “The fuck of eternal damnation, eh? I reckon that’s what I got.”
It was no secret Sir Archie had been pressured into marriage following an indiscretion with the lovely but sharp-tongued Miss Julia Preston.
Lady Julia raised her head at the commotion and her voice cut like scissors into the schoolboy game Stephen was orchestrating. “I say, gentlemen, what’s more interesting than paying some attention to the ladies? Mr. Cranbourne, I want you to please take a seat by me and tell me all about your new benefactor.”
The three young men huddled closer, eyes still fixed on the spider’s web just below the escritoire. “Take cover, gentlemen, here she comes.” Sir Archie’s tone soured. “No, it’s no good. She’s found us. Story of my life. Fun’s over.”
Stephen, still on his knees, blinked to see first Lady Julia’s well-turned ankle and then, as she bent down, her lovely face. As her lively green eyes locked with his he wondered at Archie’s discontent. She was a diamond of the first water.
“What is so fascinating, gentlemen?” Her intimate murmur sounded as if it were just for him. Her gaze was certainly focused on him as her mouth curved in a secret, knowing smile.
Stephen sucked in a breath and found he was quite unable to answer. Since he’d come back from war he was unused to mixing in such elite company, though he remembered frequenting houses like this when he was a boy before his mother’s decline.
Just when he assumed she’d solicit her husband for information, she brushed his hand with hers, the smile that was just for him still in place.
Good God, he thought he’d imagined it before. Now, with Sir Archie still on his haunches to her right, reluctantly in the process of rising, Stephen was quite clearly being conveyed a secret message. Lady Julia admired him. He forced himself to breathe evenly as his cock sprang to attention. He could not rise now, for God’s sake. He must keep them watching at least a few seconds longer.
“She’s going to devour him.” The urgency in his voice that had nothing to do with the mating spiders.
“Nothing happening.” Archie sounded bored as he groaned and gripped the table leg to heave himself up. Stephen had wondered at a match between the spindly-legged, chinless baronet and the ravishing debutante conducted in such haste the season before. He’d not thought about the lovely Miss Julia again until news spread that the couple had been blessed with twin boys within a barely timely eight and a half months of their nuptials.
Now Lady Julia looked as dewy fresh and desirable as she had when Stephen had admired her in the ballroom as a young man experienced in battle but completely unprepared for London society. His mother had left him little of the vast fortune she’d frittered away through drink and gambling but enough to at least deport himself like the gentleman he’d been born.
He managed. Just.
“No, nothing happening,” muttered Barston, rising unsteadily. “I’ll wager a thousand monkeys you’re all hot air, Cranbourne.”
Lady Julia, who’d straightened, bent at the waist to peer again at the scene that had so excited the gentlemen. “Oh, my goodness, the spider jumped!” she squeaked, twisting round so suddenly she tripped over her husband’s arm and fell full length upon Stephen.
For a second he just lay beneath her, eyes wide with shock as her soft curves molded his hard—very hard—contours, not all of them his bones.
“Get up, Julia. Cranbourne, do you accept the wager?” Archie, who sounded as if these were everyday occurrences, took his wife’s elbow and hauled her to her feet. But not before Julia had slanted a knowing and very provocative look at Stephen.
“What? Er, yes,” Stephen mumbled, paying only half a mind. He rarely gambled these days. He had only to recall his wretched, fatherless youth and the antics of his feckless, beloved, wager-mad mama.
“Good fellow!” A hearty handshake followed as Stephen rose. He took refuge behind the back of the Egyptian sofa and forced a strained smile at his hosts.
“I do love an unusual wager.” Lady Julia adopted a pose of rare solidarity beside her husband. “So this big, bold, female spider—obviously a prime article in the arachnid world—has just suffered the amorous attentions of her tiny, boring, timid, ineffectual husband.” Her knowing smile broadened and her words were heavy with emphasis as she enunciated each one. It was impossible to miss her meaning and Stephen could only wonder that Archie didn’t bristle at the obvious allusion to their own marital situation. She stroked Archie’s arm while asking Stephen in silky tones, “You’re the celebrated man of science in the room, Mr. Cranbourne. Please explain in…explicit terms…the courting rituals of the spider world.”
Stephen flicked a glance at Archie. Fortunately he appeared to be his usual good-humored self—and just as keen for information as his wife.
He cleared his throat. “The male spider will court the female and…and then after he…”
“Impregnates her?” Lady Julia supplied with an inquiring smile.
“That’s correct, yes, the female will devour him.” Stephen let out his breath in a low whistle as his erection finally subsided. God, he hoped Archie hadn’t noticed. Lady Julia was a diamond of the first water but she was dangerous and Stephen wasn’t in a position to alienate the few advantageous connections he’d made since his unexpected elevation in the world.
“Nonsense!” Archie let out a guffaw. “The male of every species is infinitely superior in every respect and I’ll wager the insect world is no exception. Cranbourne, if this pretty boy spider is still safely in his love lair, gazing raptly at his lady love in two hours, then I’ve won the wager.”
Stephen quirked an eyebrow, the fog which clouded his brain finally clearing. He’d not realisedrealized what he’d agreed to. Honesty and fair play won over though the temptation to take advantage of Sir Archie was great. “I’m happy to call off the wager, old chap. It was foolishly done in the heat of the moment, for one can’t bet against the laws of nature. The study of spiders was my childhood hobby. As sure as the sun rises in the east this puny male will have been devoured by his mate by 2amtwo a.m.”
“The wager stands.” Archie grinned. “I’m willing to bet that a female is no match for a male— – in any arena.” He glanced at his wife. “Don’t I prove that time and time again, dearest?”
Lady Julia’s smile for her husband was limpid but when she slid her eyes across to Stephen he read calculation in their depths. Arousal slammed through him and he lowered his head to hide the guilt that burned his cheeks. If Archie were to intercept the silent messages she was sending him, the young baronet would go wild. Particularly if he knew the effect they were having on Stephen.
Stephen had drunk more than usual yet he was not addle witted. When he rose from his bow, his three companions were looking at him. He shrugged helplessly. Tomorrow he was to meet Lord Partington, his new benefactor. He wanted to be in top form. On the other hand, he’d need to stay to see his wager translate into a thousand pounds, an enormous sum but one that seemed neither here nor there to Archie.
Archie was now bending over again, peering at the web beneath the table. “Can’t say the housemaids are up to snuff in this place but it’s good for a lark. Nothing’s happening. Reckon the old boy’s going to turn tail and run in a sec. Now, ’nother drink, old chap?”
“Thank you,” Stephen replied, though his bladder was full to bursting. He moved to the door. “Call of nature,” he mumbled. “Please excuse me.”
He drew in a lungful of air as he headed up the passageway to the privy. He’d have to return in the next few minutes to keep an eye on his booty though he’d much rather have gone to bed. Still, he couldn’t afford to lose the wager. It would be some time before he became the next Viscount Partington, with all that came with it.
He was just issuing into the corridor, bending to adjust his breeches, when a whiff of familiar orange-water scent assailed his nostrils.
“Good Lord, I beg your pardon.” He stepped back as if stung from the connection of his forehead connecting with Lady Julia’s pert breasts as he straightened. Half expecting an outraged slap, he was astonished by the warmth of her expression as she raised her candle.
“You are a very handsome man, Stephen.” There was no mistaking the intention, conveyed by the calculating gleam in her eye and husky whisper.
Her delicate fingers curved around his wrist and she gave a gentle tuck. Obediently followed her, not knowing what to expect.
And certainly not expecting the door of a small closet to be closed behind him, plunging them into almost total darkness save for the candle she set upon the windowsill.
“Lady Julia—”
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The Reluctant Bride by Beverley Eikli
Here is the beautiful cover for my September release, The Reluctant Bride,
written under my Beverley Eikli name. Last December I had the enormous good fortune and excitement of winning Choc-Lit’s Search for an Australian Star. Since then my publisher has been absolutely wonderful about keeping me in the loop regarding so many aspects of book’s progress towards publication and today I received this absolutely gorgeous cover.
I’ve mentioned a little about it in my previous post (Her Gilded Prison by Beverley Oakley) and I’ll just add a bit more. This story, which is set in 1813, has had a long and interesting life. It won a Romance Writers of Australia competition, was rewritten three times as the plot took on multiple twists and turns.
Finally, the battle between conflicting loyalties of a half French bride and the returning war hero whom she marries in order to keep the child she’s to bear her dead betrothed lover will come to a head in September with its release.
A lot of murky water keeps these two from entirely trusting each other and it’s only a when lives hang in the balance that my bride risks her own to redeem herself in the eyes of the noble man she’s reluctantly grown to love.
If you want to find out more about The Reluctant Bride and my other stories, please drop by and say hello. I love hearing from readers. And thank you so much for staying with me this far.
You can find more by visiting my website at:
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Her Gilded Prison has a Release Date
I was so excited to have two wonderful pieces of good news this last week. The first was that Her Gilded Prison, the first in my erotic Regency Romance series, now has a release date of March 15. That means it’ll be available by the time I go to the Romantic Times Convention in Kansas City in May.
The second piece of good news was getting my new cover for my September release with Choc-Lit, The Reluctant Bride, written under my Beverley Eikli name. In my next post I’ll reveal the beautiful, winsome heroine against a lovely background that hints at the pull of loyalties she’s battling.
So, below is an extract of Her Gilded Prison, which is about an older woman and a younger man who form an unusual alliance to protect the family heritage falling into the wrong hands.
It will be released by Ellora’s Cave on March 15. Or did I already say that? Well, it’s late here in Australian and Valentine’s Day has had to be postponed until the stars are aligned and DH is on the same continent so I can be forgiven for not being as sharp as usual.
Chapter Two
Sybil, Lady Partington, clasped her hands in her rabbit-fur muff as she watched the congregation file into their pews.
With her fortieth birthday looming, she felt old, as she watched proceedings through clouds of frosted breath. Particularly today. Old and superfluous. A failed wife. A failed mother.
Araminta had been dismissive of her well-meaning attempts to reassure her that the disgrace of her curtailed London season would not dash her chances of a good match. No, Araminta already had her mind up in that regard. She knew exactly who she was going to marry, and had done since she was twelve.
There’d been an exchange of words before they’d walked to church. Or rather, Araminta had flounced off ahead while good-natured Hetty had stayed back to keep her mother company.
Sybil slanted a sideways look at the two girls now, neatly turned out in the family pew beside her. Araminta looked proud. Expectant. Sybil repressed a sigh. That’s all she’d been doing lately. But perhaps everything would all work out.
Beside her, Hetty smiled at several new arrivals.
Nobody noticed her.
On her other side, her husband made a remark about the floral arrangement. Too flamboyant, he thought.
Sybil nodded distractedly. Nothing seemed to please Humphry unless he was with his beloved mistress, she thought bitterly, slanting a surreptitious glance across the aisle to see if Mrs. Hazlett and her family had arrived yet.
They had. She snapped her attention back to her neat rabbit-fur muff.
At least Humphry had pledged to play the dutiful host and mentor when Cousin Stephen arrived.
The heir apparent.
Not that young Mr. Stephen Cranbourne’s imminent arrival was anything to get excited over. It merely reinforced Sybil’s sense of superfluity through her failure to provide Humphry with an heir. Or rather, a spare, since the death of their darling boy, George, from the measles four years ago.
In those interim four years, Humphry’s nephew Edgar had been next in line. Humphry had refused to recognize him. Edgar was a clodpoll, he said, and the mere fact he was Humphry’s heir was incentive for Humphry to live to one hundred so he could outlive his cork-brained nephew.
Sybil supposed the bullet that had knocked poor Edgar out of the succession was rather fortunate for everyone, not least this unknown Mr. Cranbourne. But really, it changed nothing for her. She was still the unwanted wife and, as far as Araminta was concerned, the superfluous mother.
Thank goodness Hetty still needed and appreciated her.
A rustle went through the congregation. Sybil opened her hymn book and stared unseeingly at the lines designed to bolster her joy in God’s world. Once again she tried telling herself everything would work out. Humphry would take a liking to young Stephen, young Stephen would be the perfect match for Araminta, and wedding bells would ring out by the end of the year, a lusty son cementing the succession nine months later.
On painful joints, Reverend Bicklefield climbed the steps to the pulpit while old Mrs. Henshaw shuffled in on her handsome nephew’s arm. Sybil glanced up at the whiff of camphor and glimpsed the flare of interest Hetty sent the young man from beneath her sandy lashes as she focused attention upon her hymn book. Poor Hetty, for it was Araminta, sitting beside her, who caught his eye.
Araminta. Sybil sighed. Araminta was, without doubt, the most arresting young woman in the region. She’d turn anyone’s head, however the man who won her would have a tussle on his hands from the outset. Araminta was only happy when she had her own way.
She wondered what kind of man Mr. Stephen Cranbourne was. She knew nothing of him and had had little time to prepare for his arrival.
Reverend Bicklefield cleared his throat and hymn book pages rustled. Glancing at her youngest daughter, Sybil did not miss the smile Hetty flashed at Thomas Hazlett in the pew almost directly across from them. He nodded briefly in acknowledgement before his stern young countenance refocused on his own hymn book.
As far as Sybil knew, the young people had never spoken, although they crossed paths each Sunday.
A chill of foreboding made her shiver and she touched her knee to Humphry’s.
Could Hetty…know?
Yet when her husband glanced across at her, she could not put into words her fears.
Thomas and his two sisters were Humphry’s children by his mistress Elizabeth Hazlett. That made Thomas Hetty’s half-brother yet surely Hetty had no idea the Hazletts, who sat quietly and modestly through Rev. Bicklefield’s sermon every Sunday, were her father’s “other” family.
Further study of Hetty reassured Sybil, even after Thomas, looking up and locking eyes with the girl, grinned self-consciously.
Thomas Hazlett would know, of course. Perhaps he was consumed by impotent rage, knowing Hetty and Araminta, his half-sisters, enjoyed an easy, privileged life while he and his sisters, as Lord Partington’s side-slips, must navigate a hurdle-strewn path, denied social acceptance. He’d be especially outraged if he knew—as he presumably did—the reason he was not Lord Partington’s heir. His mother would surely have told Thomas that his father had buckled under family pressure and reneged on his marriage proposal to her. Shortly after Humphry had unexpectedly inherited the title he’d reluctantly married the much more “suitable” Miss Sybil Green. Yet even after such betrayal and after all these years Humphry and Lizzy Hazlett remained desperately in love.
Two generations had suffered the unhappy consequences—and always would. It was of no account that Humphry had regretted his marriage almost immediately, or consolation to Sybil that he’d told her it was not her fault.
She glanced at her husband’s impassive profile. Hard to believe they’d been married twenty years and produced four children, two of whom had died. Both sons. One stillborn, the other, George, only fourteen. Four years had passed but the pain still sliced through her with the rawness of lemon in a fresh cut.
It had taken Humphry another three years before he’d come to her bed. For so long she’ been half expecting it, for of course dear George’s death meant that without a direct heir The Grange and the fortune that went with it would go to Edgar.
Detested Edgar.
The memory of Humphry’s visit to her bedchamber made her cringe with shame. What a debacle it had been—Humphry plied with drink, mumbling that he felt like an adulterer as he tried to coax his unresponsive nether regions to perform.
It didn’t work. Nothing did, including Sybil’s extensive efforts to entice him with her dubious charms before she’d resorted to some crass pumping of Humphry’s flaccid member.
Oh God, this was not a reflection for church, but the embarrassment of being woken by her husband’s drunken snoring just as her maid had come in to draw the curtains still burned.
She looked at Araminta. Perhaps it helped to have no heart, she thought, immediately chastising herself for her uncharitable thoughts. Araminta was still so young. She’d learn.
Besides, Sybil had everything she could wish for. Except love.
Humphry didn’t love Sybil but he’d been kind in his way and he’d always tried to spare her discomfort. Not pain, for nothing could quite erase the hopelessness of knowing one would never know the love of a man.
Nor could she hate Lizzy Hazlett although on more than one occasion she’d wished her dead, wondering if perhaps then Humphry might be able to form for Sybil some small affection.
As the years passed, Sybil realized Humphry would never love anyone but Lizzy Hazlett, who had returned Humphry’s love by eschewing the respectable marriage she might have made as a solicitor’s daughter in order to become Humphry’s mistress. Her punishment had been social ostracism and she’d condemned her children to a dubious future. For what future was there for a bastard?
No, Sybil wasn’t the only one to suffer.
A ripple of interest stirred the congregation and Sybil turned her head as the door blew open to admit a new arrival. He was a stranger, she realized, taking in his large bulk, a dark, faceless cut-out against the sun, which lit him from behind.
As he progressed down the aisle, he paused as if suddenly uncertain, and a shaft of sunlight from one of the side stained windows lit up his face.
It was a handsome face, sensitive and finely rendered rather than rugged. Although young he had creases near his eyes denoting both good humor and experience. Active service perhaps. That turned a boy into a man, and this young man seemed both as his mouth, which had been pressed into a diffident straight line, curved up in recognition upon seeing Humphry.
She stiffened.
Stephen. It could be no other.
The young man bowed, his broad shoulders filling out his sober dark coat nicely; certainly in Araminta’s opinion, it would seem. Sybil registered the girl’s sudden awareness, the flare in her eye as she locked glances with the stranger, who was now looking directly at them, the first family of the district sitting according to their station in the front pew.
And at the expectation in his eye Sybil’s heart began to beat rapidly while her breath caught in her throat. Humphry was staring, a wary smile of welcome softening his features. It was impossible to determine his thoughts, even though he’d invited the newcomer here.
Stephen Cranbourne, Humphry’s heir, had finally arrived, having been summoned from the other side of the country after much searching.
And on first impressions he did not disappoint.
END OF EXTRACT
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ying this long. If you’d like to say hi, I’d be very happy. If you’d like to look out for my other books and see what else I’m doing, here are my links:
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The Cavalier, an English Civil War Romance
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I love the intensity that comes with star-crossed lovers whose loyalties clash on the battlefield, due to family ties, but whose hearts are in harmony. Last week I got a lovely review from Two Lips Reviews of The Cavalier, my English Civil War erotic romance in which Elizabeth, my Puritan woman is confronted with the man she once loves when he storms her castle. He’s the second in command of the enemy Cavalier forces. Elizabeth’s husband, a cold and driven Puritan whom she’d been forced to marry after giving up her true love, now wants to use his wife to entrap the Cavalier leader. The trouble is, with war and past hurt entering the equation no one can trust anyone, and it’s all complicated by passion, poison and power. Here’s what Two Lips had to say.
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Eight years before, Elizabeth suffered numerous beatings by her father because she wished to marry Cavalier Charles Threthveyan. At last, when she realizes her suitor has given up and abandoned her, she marries the man her father has chosen, Puritan Silas Drummond, who has long lusted after her, though he’d never admit it. Now, Drummond is besieged by Royalist forces and Elizabeth and her husband are captives of Captain Reynolds, the King’s Man, and his second-in-command, her former suitor. Striking a bargain with Reynolds to spend the night with both men in return for her husband’s safe release, Elizabeth doesn’t count on the response she has to Charles’ nearness. He swears he still loves her, asking for a charade of seduction to save her honor. Elizabeth agrees but can’t hide her own desire and soon their pretended lust becomes all too real. Or has it? Before his commander, Charles becomes the callous seducer. In private, he’s the protective lover she once knew. Elizabeth has been charged by her husband to poison both Charles and his commander. She goes to an arranged meeting bearing the vial containing the fatal dose, but will she use it on Charles and Reynolds, or on herself? Can she free her husband though it would mean losing forever the man she really loves, or will she once more try to fight for the chance for happiness? Beverley Oakley has created in The Cavalier a short but intriguing historical piece, giving a great deal of insight into the war in which the Cavaliers and the Puritans participated. Even for such a limited length, the characters are well-delineated, and their aims and desires equally explained. Elizabeth is torn between wanting to believe Charles and keep her original assessment of him intact in spite of how she sees him now conducting himself. Charles has to redefine his ideas of why Elizabeth jilted him in light of what he was told and what he now learns. The contrasts between the beliefs of the Cavaliers and the Puritans and the war they fought is defined and explained, and Elizabeth’s dilemma in meeting again her lost love, of whether to believe him or accept the public face he shows of the callous libertine is well set up. I’d definitely like to read a longer work by this author. End of Review Thank you for dropping by and I hope you have a lovely evening. If you’d like to know more, you can visit my website. It’d also be nice if you ‘liked’ me on FB. I’m also on Goodreads. And you can buy the book at All Romance e-books here or, for the best price of all, here. |
Excerpt from Rake’s Honour, shortlisted for an ARRA.
As I mentioned a while ago, I woke up to the exciting news that my racy Regency Romp, Rake’s Honour had been shortlisted for Favourite Historical of 2012 by Australian Romance Readers Association. You can read the list of ARRA’s other shortlisted nominees here.
So I’ll be heading up to the ARR Convention in March on the Gold Coast and, even if I don’t win, know I’ll have a wonderful time meeting all those lovely readers and the other 60 authors who will be attending for book signings and panel discussion.
Well, here’s an extract from Rake’s Honour which takes place when my heroine, Fanny, appeas at a grand ball and meets the man she’s recently enjoyed an intimate encounter with in a boat on the Thames. She’s horrified when he recognises her, for she’d been in masquerade during her visit to Vauxhall Gardens.
Fanny watched the fulminating look cross her erstwhile admirer’s face. A thug in gentleman’s attire, with his thick nose and close-set eyes, George Bramley had never forgiven her for spurning his advances the previous summer.
A supercilious smile replaced the young man’s ill humour. Bowing, he said smoothly, “Evening Uncle; Miss Brightwell. Allow me to introduce my old friend, Lord Fenton.”
Fanny inclined her head, her smile brittle as the object of her palpitating heart rose from his bow. Adept in the art of using her fan, she was uncomfortably aware it was of little use in concealing the deep blush that spread upwards from her bosom at the memory of their recent intimacy. A discomfort not eased by the intensity of his gaze and the knowing smile that turned up the corners of his handsome, generous mouth. He was making no secret of the fact that he knew exactly who she was.
Another moment under his searing gaze and she would have a fit of the vapours, run screaming from the room or hurl herself upon his person and scandalise the entire company.
The strains of the orchestra tuning up for another cotillion drifted from the next room. Lord Fenton held out his hand.
“Miss Brightwell, would you do me the honour…?”
Her skin prickled under his assessing look as they arranged themselves in a group of four couples. She felt as exposed as if she were standing, naked, under a blazing sun.
“With your dark hair and proud blue eyes you’d have made the perfect Anne Boleyn at the Vauxhall masquerade,” he murmured.
Fanny stared fixedly ahead as she prepared for the dance. It was the only way she could maintain even shaky control of her feelings, especially as Lord Fenton made it clear there was to be no coy tiptoeing around the truth.
“You certainly risked that beautiful neck of yours,” he went on, as they performed their figures in the centre of the group before returning to the sidelines. With a smile as cloying as a teaspoon full of sugar, he murmured, “I just want to assure you that, as a gentleman, your secret is safe with me.”
Was this sport at her expense?
“A great relief, sir,” she responded warily as they watched the other dancers go through the motions, “though I believe that in carrying me off forcibly yours was the greater crime. I had become separated from my friends and Lord Alverley was about to help me find them before you took advantage of the situation.”
Though she said it with hauteur, the memory of the burning kisses this man had trailed over her throat and across her collarbone made her desperate for more. The other liberties she’d allowed made her want to crawl into a dark hole.
“You’re flushed, Miss Brightwell. Perhaps you need air. Shall we step outside?”
“How dare you—?” she began in an angry undertone, but was cut short by the realisation that indeed he was only teasing her.
His deep brown eyes held laughter. “My dear Miss Brightwell, you surely do not imagine I would be so bold as to whisk you away from tonight’s company as I did two nights ago?” He grazed the sensitive skin of her forearm with his hand and she shivered as he added, “Much as I would like it. Nevertheless…”
She glanced at the nearest couple, afraid their conversation might be overheard, relieved when he murmured with surprising intensity, “Let me assure you, that was between you and me…alone.”
Holding Lord Fenton’s gaze, Fanny executed her dance steps like an automaton. They’d been drilled into her as thoroughly as her need to perform in the marriage mart. Was he no longer mocking her?
The brittle pride that had armoured her against the damage he could do her—in so many ways—was replaced by a tiny kernel of hope. Lord Fenton was studying Fanny with the greatest interest and, despite all that had passed between them, she’d venture, respect.
She thought of her impending marriage to Lord Slyther and whispered, “In your arms, my Lord, something came over me… I don’t know how to explain it, but I’d never felt it before and”—she kept her eyes trained on his as they linked elbows to dos-à-dos down the centre of the room—“I felt I was in heaven.”
Clearly he was not used to such plain talking and clearly he liked it. Looking decidedly pleased, he put his head close to hers before they separated briefly once more. “Then we shall have to do it again, Miss Brightwell—only this time I promise to proceed in a far more gentlemanly manner.”
Was there any clearer way for him to indicate his interest? She was about to respond, to indicate her pleasure and hopefully prolong the boyish charm that had replaced for the moment his rakish self-confidence, but her words were truncated by a gasp. Right before her very eyes she was bearing witness to what threatened to be her sister’s greatest impropriety yet.
End of Excerpt
Thank you for dropping by and I hope you have a lovely evening.
If you’d like to know more, you can visit my website.
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And you can buy the book at All Romance e-books here or, for the best price of all, here.
A Curious Wager -Excerpt #2 from Her Gilded Prison (warning: Adult content)
Still working through these edits and glad not to pick up too many things – though I’m sure my editor will:)
Earlier today I posted the extract from the start of the book. Now I pick up a short while later, just as my hero, Stephen, agrees to an unlikely wager. Stephen is a lovely young man who’s been summoned by a distant cousin to be looked over as the new heir to The Grange, a large, rich estate in Wiltshire, England.
There’s a lot of subterfuge going on in the background, so if you like intrigue in your erotic historicals, and over-confident rakes or arrogant upstarts getting their just desserts, you might like this.
There was certainly a lot of intrigue and a sting in the tail of my first erotic Regency Historical, Rake’s Honour, which has just been shortlisted Favourite Historical in 2012 by Australian Romance Writers Association.
EXCERPT FROM HER GILDED PRISON
“I do love an unusual wager.” Lady Julia adopted a pose of rare solidarity beside her husband. “So this big, bold, female spider—obviously a prime article in the arachnid world—has just suffered the amorous attentions of her tiny, boring, timid, ineffectual husband.” Her knowing smile broadened and her words were heavy with emphasis as she enunciated each one. It was impossible to miss her meaning and Stephen could only wonder that Archie didn’t bristle at the obvious allusion to their own marital situation. She stroked Archie’s arm while asking Stephen in silky tones, “You’re the celebrated man of science in the room, Mr. Cranbourne. Please explain in…explicit terms…the courting rituals of the spider world.”
Stephen flicked a glance at Archie. Fortunately he appeared to be his usual good-humored self—and just as keen for information as his wife.
He cleared his throat. “The male spider will court the female and…and then after he…”
“Impregnates her?” Lady Julia supplied with an inquiring smile.
“That’s correct, yes, the female will devour him.” Stephen let out his breath in a low whistle as his erection finally subsided. God, he hoped Archie hadn’t noticed. Lady Julia was a diamond of the first water but she was dangerous and Stephen wasn’t in a position to alienate the few advantageous connections he’d made since his unexpected elevation in the world.
“Nonsense!” Archie let out a guffaw. “The male of every species is infinitely superior in every respect and I’ll wager the insect world is no exception. Cranbourne, if this pretty boy spider is still safely in his love lair, gazing raptly at his lady love in two hours, then I’ve won the wager.”
Stephen quirked an eyebrow, the fog which clouded his brain finally clearing. He’d not realized what he’d agreed to. Honesty and fair play won over though the temptation to take advantage of Sir Archie was great. “I’m happy to call off the wager, old chap.
It was foolishly done in the heat of the moment, for one can’t bet against the laws of nature. The study of spiders was my childhood hobby. As sure as the sun rises in the east this puny male will have been devoured by his mate by two a.m.”
“The wager stands.” Archie grinned. “I’m willing to bet that a female is no match for a male—in any arena.” He glanced at his wife. “Don’t I prove that time and time again, dearest?”
Lady Julia’s smile for her husband was limpid but when she slid her eyes across to Stephen he read calculation in their depths. Arousal slammed through him and he lowered his head to hide the guilt that burned his cheeks. If Archie were to intercept the silent messages she was sending him, the young baronet would go wild. Particularly if he knew the effect they were having on Stephen.
Stephen had drunk more than usual yet he was not addle witted. When he rose from his bow, his three companions were looking at him. He shrugged helplessly. Tomorrow he was to meet Lord Partington, his new benefactor. He wanted to be in top form.
On the other hand, he’d need to stay to see his wager translate into a thousand pounds, an enormous sum but one that seemed neither here nor there to Archie.
Archie was now bending over again, peering at the web beneath the table. “Can’t say the housemaids are up to snuff in this place but it’s good for a lark. Nothing’s happening. Reckon the old boy’s going to turn tail and run in a sec. Now, ’nother drink, old chap?”
“Thank you,” Stephen replied, though his bladder was full to bursting. He moved to the door. “Call of nature,” he mumbled. “Please excuse me.”
He drew in a lungful of air as he headed up the passageway to the privy. He’d have to return in the next few minutes to keep an eye on his booty though he’d much rather have gone to bed. Still, he couldn’t afford to lose the wager. It would be some time before he became the next Viscount Partington, with all that came with it.
He was just returning, issuing into the corridor and bending to adjust his breeches, when a whiff of familiar orange-water scent assailed his nostrils.
“Good Lord, I beg your pardon.” He stepped back as if stung from the connection of his forehead with Lady Julia’s pert breasts as he straightened.
Half expecting an outraged slap, he was astonished by the warmth of her expression as she raised her candle.
“You are a very handsome man, Stephen.” There was no mistaking the intention, conveyed by the calculating gleam in her eye and husky whisper.
Her delicate fingers curved around his wrist and she gave a gentle tug. Obediently he followed her, not knowing what to expect.
And certainly not expecting the door of a small closet to be closed behind him, plunging them into almost total darkness save for the candle she set upon the windowsill.
“Lady Julia—”
His words were cut short by the touch of her lips, soft yet demanding as they covered his half-open mouth. Surprise coalesced into desire, fierce and potent as her deft little fingers fumbled with the buttons of his breeches and closed around his pulsing cock.
End of Extract
I don’t have a release date but I expect it’ll be in April and just in time for the Romantic Times Convention where I’ll be meeting with my three wonderful publishers, Ellora’s Cave, Total-e-Bound and Choc-Lit.
If you’d like to know more, you can visit my website.
It’d also be nice if you ‘liked’ me on FB. I’m also on Goodreads. In addition to writing erotic historicals as Beverley Oakley, I write historical romantic intrigues as Beverley Eikli.
