Excerpt – To Catch A Highlander
January 25th, 2012
“Sophia, what are you offering as a wager?”
“You first,” she said calmly, bold amusement glimmering in her gaze. “What do you have to offer?”
He was even more aware of the seductive line of her shoulders and the tantalizing curve of her breasts, hidden by that damned piece of lace. “I have funds in my London bank. I could draw markers against that.”
“No, thank you.”
He raised his brows.
“I have not plans to travel to London anytime soon, to gather the funds from a marker.”
“So you won’t take my markers.”
“No, but. . .” Her gaze sharpened, though her voice remained soft. “You could use the deed to this house, such as it is. I’m sure you much still have that in your possession?”
There it was. “Of course.”
Sophia deftly shuffled the cards, her fingers flying. “Well, MacLean? Will you play for the house?”
He crossed his arms and leaned back. “I might, if you are willing to offer something of equal value.”
“Equal to this house?” She flicked her fingers in the air. “Considering its condition, I think I might come up with something.” Her fingers came to a rest on her necklace. It sparkled against her pale skin, like dew on a flower. “What about this?”
He eyed it from across the table. Though it sparkled beguilingly, he knew better than to trust mere flash. “no.”
She smiled serenely. “Why not? It’s a lovely piece.”
He regarded her through narrowed eyes, considering this, then he held out his hand. “Let me see it.”
Her fingers tightened over the necklace, her smile faltering. “You don’t trust me.”
“No. And you’d be wise not to trust me.”
Her hand dropped from the necklace, and she said stiffly, “I have changed my mind. I don’t wish to wager my necklace after all.”
“Because it’s fake?”
Her eyes flashed. “No. Because my father gave it to me and it’s precious.”
Dougal crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, then. If you won’t wager your necklace, what will you wager?”
“I suppose a marker is out of the question.”
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t take mine.”
“But I don’t have any jewelry I wish to part with.”
“Not unless you’ll allow me to examine it. I have quite a good eye for jewelry.”
“I’m certain you’ve bought many pieces.” Her voice held delicate sarcasm.
“I like a woman in diamonds,” he replied softly. “And nothing else.” He pursed his lips, regarding her through half-closed eyes. “I wonder if . . .”
“If what?”
“I’m not willing to wager the house . . yet.”
Her eyes sharpened. “Yet?”
“I need to see more of it, get a better sense of its worth. Once it’s done -” He shrugged. “I might be willing to wager it.”
She tried to look disinterested but couldn’t mask her disappointment. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“However, I have something else to wager: the necklace from the diamond set your father lost to me.”
Her eyes glittered with interest. “Against?” she asked quietly.
:the sight of you wearing it — naked?”
A delicate blush touched her cheeks, but her gaze never wavered. “You were right; you aren’t a gentleman,” she said huskily.
“And you aren’t a lady of quality. I’d say that makes us a matched pair.”
“I may not be the daughter of a duke, but neither am I a light skirt. I won’t wager my virtue,” she said sharply.
“I wasn’t asking for your virtue. Just a moment to appreciate your charms in their natural state. But if the thought frightens you -” He waved a hand in the air dismissively.
Sophia regarded him stonily. She would not fall for the oldest manipulation in the book; she was not child to be double-dared in to doing something she’d regret.
But neither was she the sort of woman to quit. If she wished to win back her house, she had to inflame this man, make him desire her beyond the bounds of common sense.
Her heart thudded as she dropped her gaze to the cards beneath her fingertips. “I won’t disrobe.”
His gaze locked with hers. “No?”
One word had never sounded so persuasive. She shook her head. “Not for a mere necklace.”
“I see. What will you do for a mere necklace?”
She considered this a moment. “I will let down my hair.”
His gaze locked on her hair, a stillness to him that made her uneasy. Finally, to her surprise, he nodded. “Very well.”
She blinked. “You agree?”
A smile flickered across his face. “I love a woman’s hair – it is one of my weaknesses. I think seeing yours unbound, streaming over your shoulders, would be one of the most sensual things I’ve ever witnessed.”
Well, when he put it like that, it made her wish she’d held out for the entire set, not just the necklace. “We are decided then: the necklace against my hair. Only . . you must promise you won’t touch. That’s not permitted.”
She wasn’t sure why she added that caveat. Perhaps because she was afraid of herself, of the effects if she touched him. One of them had to be in control, and she was determined that it be her.
He didn’t move, but she sensed a change in him. He was intent, focused on her as never before, his green eyes burning brightly. “I would never touch you unless you desired it.”
Sophia’s fingers trembled. Could she do this? Did she dare?
She felt a strange exhilaration, almost a hunger. He was playing right into her hands. “I agree then.” The words feathered over her lips, a breath and yet more. “The diamonds were my mothers.”
“And of exceptional quality, I might add. I was quite pleased with them.”
She nodded and shuffled the cards once more. Oddly, she felt no fear, only a wild desire to see what might come of this madness. If she wished to win back the house, she had to become bolder, had to prove to him that she was his equal in daring, as well as everything else.
She straightened her shoulders, the gesture lifting her bosom and drawing his attention. “Shall I deal, MacLean? Or will you?”
He chuckled, the sound low and seductive. “You are an intriguing woman, Sophia Beatrice MacFarlane.”
Excerpt – An Affair to Remember
January 17th, 2012
“Perhaps it is a good thing we’re getting all this out in the open now. Exactly what do you see as my responsibilities, Lord Greyley? Beyond Latin, that is.”
He gave an easy shrug. “You are to instruct the children to the best of your ability.”
“And?”
“You will also give them a basic understanding of comportment.”
“But only in the nursery.”
“Whatever you teach them in the nursery will carry over. Or it will if it’s done properly.”
Anna opened her mouth to respond, but Greyley continued. “Furthermore, you will see to it that they are busily employed, follow their schedule, and -”
“Schedule?”
“Yes. I developed it after the third governess left. It is the only thing that keeps the children in check.”
Anna managed a frigid smile. “I see. And where on this schedule did it read ‘put frogs in master chamber’?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you always use sarcasm when talking to your employers?”
“Only when they will not listen to reason. Greyley, I’m known as the best governess in London because I know how to deal with children, and not because I smile and nod every time my employer says a word.”
To her surprise, his lips twitched. “I can’t imagine you doing anything so tame.”
“And I cannot image you being so foolish as to think child rearing can be confined to a nursery. Perhaps that has been the problem all along. It will take both of out best efforts if we are to improve the children’s behavior.”
He regarded her for a long minute, his brow lowered. “You think we need to work together?”
“If they hear the same thing from their governess as they do from their guardian, it will mean more. I will reinforce you and you will reinforce me; like generals in a war. It’s simple logic, Greyley.”
“Governesses do not tell their employers what to do.”
“And you’ve known so many good ones.”
A glint of humor lit his brown eyes. “I’m rapidly beginning to believe there are no good governesses. Just bossy ones.”
“Perhaps it is the same thing. We are agreed then?” She held her breath and waited.
Finally, he nodded. “We will meet daily to discuss the children. And I will, of course, reinforce you whenever possible. But I will expect the same from you.”
Relief flooded through her. “Thank you.” Well, that hadn’t been so difficult after all. Perhaps this position would be smoother than she’d -
“Thraxton.” He pushed himself from the mantel and walked toward the door. “Come with me.”
What was he doing now? Anna followed him out of the room and down the hallway, passing an impressive Flemish tapestry depicting an ancient war scene. They crosed the hall and went through two huge doors.
Anna stopped in the doorway. It was the most gorgeous room she’d ever beheld. A long row of glass-paned doors that opened onto a perfectly groomed garden let in a swath of light, and sent a warm glow across the gleaming wood paneling and lines and lines of oak shelving. An intricate wrought-iron railing followed a set of steps to a second level walk that circled the room and held even more shelves.
But it was the ceiling that made Anna’s jaw drop. A delicate mural had been painted on the plaster, depicting Truth and Virtue at war with Sloth and Ignorance. Soft blue and deep purple mingled with a sunshine yellow and a delicate orchid. The colors alone were worth seeing, but the fineness of the painting held her enthralled.
Anna lowered her gaze to the earl where he stood watching her. “It’s lovely,” she said honestly.
The hard lines of his face softened briefly. “This is the only room that’s been completed so far. One day, I hope the rest of the house will be as inspiring.”
Anna let her gaze drift across the rest of the room. A heavy golden and red rug warmed the center of the chamber. The earl’s large mahogany desk took precedence in one corner while a hodgepodge of antique chairs was grouped about the fireplace. No two were the same, yet the combination was perfect.
Best yet, the entire room brimmed with books – there wasn’t a single empty spot on any of the shelves. Anna walked slowly along the wall, her fingers lightly running over the leather bindings. After a moment, she stopped. “Byron?”
The earl shrugged. “He’s all the rage.”
“You cannot like him,” Anna said, unable to picture the earl reading something so romantic as Byron.
He glinted her a look, then said softly, “‘She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that’s best of dark and bright. Meets in her aspect and her eyes. . .’”
The words rested in the silence, cupped by the warmth of the room, glowing in their simplicity. A slow tingle filled her heart and expanded, warming her chest, her shoulders, her arms. She found herself nodding. “Byron is one of my favorites as well.”
The moment seemed unexpectedly intimate, as if they’d known each other for a very long time and had shared numerous confidences. It was an illusion, she knew. She and Greyley exchanged verbal barbs and not friendship.
Talk of the Town
January 11th, 2012
The distant sound of a car approaching fast made Nick lift his radar gun and look down the road.
A red-hot ’68 Mustang roared into view. Oh, yeah. That was a good one. He clicked the trigger and was rewarded with a rising squeal. Twelve miles over the limit.
He reached into his squad car and flipped on the lights, then waved the car over. The Mustang’s rear lights flashed on and the car whipped to the side of the road, spraying gravel. Nick caught a glimpse of the driver, a hot blonde wearing huge hater-blocker sunglasses that would look less out of place in L.A.
Well! That was a sight he hadn’t seen in his two-year tenure as town sheriff. And a good thing, too. If he knew anything, it was that women could be trouble, especially hot blondes who thumbed their perfect noses at the law. He’d seen the damage a woman could do if a man got too mixed up and lost his objectivity. He’d sworn to never succumb to such dangerous temptation.
He approached the car, noted the Raleigh plates, and counted at least two other occupants besides the driver. To keep his hands free, he tucked his ticket book into his back pocket and walked to the open window. The driver was turned away from him as she dug through her wallet, obviously looking for a license. His gaze dropped to the space between the woman and the door, instinctively looking for a weapon-old training from when he’d worked somewhere far busier and far more violent.
As he expected, he didn’t find anything of interest. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. That long expanse of smooth, tanned thigh and, at the curve of her hip, the hint of a tattoo peeking from the edge of her white shorts were very interesting.
His gaze lingered appreciatively.
Whoever she was, she definitely wouldn’t fit in with the grayhairs and shiny domes who sat around Micki & Maud’s Diner, complaining about the weather.
Nick bent down to the open window. “Ma’am, I’m going to need to see your driver’s license and registra–”
The woman looked up and flipped her sunglasses to the top of her head. In one blinding moment, Nick forgot everything he was going to say. Sitting before him was the reason he’d left the idyllic little town of Glory in the first place – Roxie Treymayne. “You changed your hair color!”
It was a stupid thing to say and her reaction was immediate.
Hot color flooded her cheeks, but her chin immediately notched up a level as if ready for a fight. “You think?” she asked in a cool, faintly sarcastic way he immediately recognized.
Nick flicked a glance to the creamy blonde hair lifting up into a ponytail, hair that had once been such a deep brown that it had bordered on black. He might not know that new hair, but he did know those wide, pale blue eyes, thick black lashes and pouty, kissable mouth, just as he knew that too-stubborn chin. At one time, he’d showered them all with kisses. “Roxie Treymayne.”
“Nick Sheppard.” Her gaze flicked over him before she met his gaze, humor lurking in her expression. “A cop. I never saw that coming.”
“Yeah, well, neither did I. Though my mother’s glad I’m in charge of the jail rather than residing in it.” Though he tried not to, his gaze drifted, noting the low-cut halter top and…the twinkle of a navel ring above the waistband of her short shorts.
Once a too-good-for-anyone brunette ice queen, Roxie Treymayne had returned to town as a hot, sexy blonde. A hot, tattooed, navel-pierced blonde, at that.
Hot damn.
Nick’s mind reeled. Growing up, he’d watched little Roxie Treymayne prance about Glory, so pure and perfect that it had almost hurt to see her. He’d watched her grow from a leggy sprite wearing a Peter Pan collar to a supremely confident homecoming queen with a large blue satin bow on her shoulder. Just breathing, Roxie had kept every male for miles around panting. Except him.
He hadn’t panted. He’d dreamed, desired, longed for…and had had the good sense to make a run for it before he’d made even more of a fool of himself.
Now, he met her icy blue gaze and realized just how much things had changed. At one time, she’d been the town’s hottest and most available virgin, while he’d been Senior Most Likely to be in Jail During the Reunion. Now he was a by-the-book cop, while she, by all appearances, had returned a sultry scofflaw, the exact sort of woman he avoided like the plague.
“Well, Officer?” Roxie’s voice traced across his skin like warm fingers: “Am I getting a ticket?”
I have no idea …
January 6th, 2012
I love signs, especially public signs that make you scratch your head and go “Wha–?!?”
Take this one for instance:
What does this sign mean? Don’t lose your head? Or If you’ve already lost it, don’t step on it? Or perhaps it means you should Keep your head in a safe place on the ground beside your feet?
I really have no idea, but I killed a good hour trying to figure it out today — yes, I’ve taken procrastination to a higher form than ever before. You might say I’ve perfected it.
If you’re feeling down and out, or just bored with work, feel free to look for funny signs. You’d be surprised how many sites are dedicated to that and nothing more.
From HER OFFICER AND GENTLEMAN
December 28th, 2011
Christian smoothed his cuffs as he made his way into the ballroom, pausing to ask the first male he encountered as to Lady Elizabeth’s whereabouts. As Christian anticipated, the fool knew exactly where she was to be found.
Lady Elizabeth stood halfway between the refreshment table and the terrace doors, surprisingly unfettered by suitors. Christian’s gaze narrowed on her as he drew closer. From behind, her form hinted at the loveliness Christian’s bloody groom had suggested; a vision of golden hair and sensual curves gowned in blue silk and cream lace. Her figure was delicate and well-rounded; her hair piled upon her head in delicious, thick, golden curls.
It was a pity such a beauty was so closely related to his enemy, as she would have been worth a chase on her own merits. But life was never fair.
As he neared, Lady Elizabeth laughed at something her companion said. He slowed a bit, his gaze narrowing as he attempted to read her gestures, movements. From his years estimating who would be a good mark and who would not, Christian had developed the ability to ascertain a few things from the way people moved, the way they spoke, how they gestured.
Lady Elizabeth was not as demure as one might expect. There was something very sensual about her posture, the way she threw back her head when she laughed, the manner in which she flicked her hand as if impatient with life.
She was a woman who craved something more. He recognized that aspect of her character at once, and to his chagrin, something deep within him responded in kind.
Christian’s gaze narrowed. She was not what he had expected at all. His spies had informed him that she was bookish, not given to any sort of lively pursuits other than riding about the estate and being her grandfather’s sole companion. He’d originally thought she would be a shy, retiring sort of woman who had dutifully given up her youth to keep her elderly relative company. Such a self-deprecating martyr would be an easy woman to charm.
It had not occurred to Christian that she might also be beautiful, sensual and vivacious.
Whatever she was, she was now within arm’s length. He waited for a pause in the conversation, then at first opportunity said in a low voice, “May I have this dance?”
Lady Elizabeth turned, her gown fluttering about her, her startled gaze lifted to his. It was then that it happened; a jolt of pure, animal attraction hit Christian so hard, his heart leaped in his chest.
He could only stare. As he’s been told, she was beautiful, but thing had prepared him for the reality of that beauty, of the smoldering passion that lit her large, brown eyes, of the tempting curve of her plump lips, of the sensual line of her cheek and throat. She was passion and pureness, temptation and desire, acumen and sensuality, all wrapped into one. As if she knew his thoughts, her lips framed into an entrancingly rich pout, one he instantly wished to kiss away.
Christian had to force himself not to reach out and yank her to him right there in the center of the ballroom. It was then that the truth hit him: he’s met the one woman he could never touch. Never give in to. Never admit into his life or his heart. The mysterious Lady Elizabeth was the granddaughter of Christian’s most hated enemy, and he was not about to forget, no matter how his traitorous body answered to her mere presence.
The Twelve Days of Christmas
December 23rd, 2011
The Goddesses on Mt Oly got together for some holiday fun.