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.
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.
active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age
or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence,
and explicit language offends you.
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.
subscribe to her newsletter at kmromance.com
“Trouble?” He echoed the vague response as though he hadn’t heard it more times than he could count.
“Mrs. Tindall, nearly everyone on this miserable planet is in some sort of trouble. It doesn’t explain why you have invaded my hunting cabin or threatened to shoot me.” He was not prepared for the interrogation of an impertinent beauty in the moors. He was prepared for solitude and quiet, relaxation. Or, in the very least, a moment of self-reflection followed by a week of wallowing in depression.
“With what gun? I am unarmed,” she pointed out.
“I said threatened,” he emphasized. “Had you been armed, would you have shot me?”
Large, hazel eyes focused steadily on him. “Yes.”
Now his head began to throb, and his teeth ached from the pressure of his jaw.
“Where is your husband, Mrs. Tindall?”
“I am a grown woman, plenty old enough to be about on my own.”
She didn’t look a day past twenty, but he was in no mood to dispute anything that wasn’t completely necessary. It was too much damned effort, especially compounded with the effort needed to ignore her—or more accurately, to ignore his body’s response to her.
The dress she wore was threadbare and torn, showing shapely ankles disappearing into ragged half boots. Her sleeve had been ripped at the shoulder, sliding down her arm and sending the neckline dangerously low on her generous bosom. He fought to keep his attention on her face, but even that was a distraction. Her eyes were ethereally vivid, her mouth full and wide, and her neck a lovely arch beneath it all.
Bloody hell, why her? Why him? What god or demon had he insulted so gravely as to deserve this? All he wanted was a damned holiday, a well-deserved one, he might add.
“You are Mrs. Tindall,” he said doggedly. “Surely there’s a Mr. Tindall?”
“Yes, there was… but he is no longer amongst the living.”
His fists clenched at his sides, forcing himself to calm. She was a widow. Good manners dictated he grant her some measure of consideration.
“I am sorry to hear it. When did this happen?”
“Two days ago.”
To his credit, the curse that nearly flew from his mouth stayed obediently behind his teeth.
Two days? A landlord who evicted a woman immediately after the death of her husband ought to be publicly flogged, and Drake would jump at the chance to administer the punishment. Particularly since, in this case, it meant she had been booted out of her home and into his hunting cabin.
“Have you no family or friends who can take you in?”
“No,” she said. “I know two or three people, but no one I could impose upon.”
“Of course not,” he muttered. “Why impose upon those you know when there is a perfectly good stranger handy.”
Her eyes flashed. “Under the circumstances, I couldn’t possibly ask someone I hardly know to shelter me.”
“Circumstances,” he echoed. “Circumstances being the death of your husband? Is that the trouble you have found yourself in?”
She looked away. “More or less.”
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!