Captain Chase Eversea and Rosalind March employ a street urchin, Liam Plum,
to help with their search for Lucy, Rosalindâ€™s missing sisterâ€”but when the
boyâ€™s sister and only surviving relative disappears, too, the mystery thickens,
sizzling attraction deepens, and theyâ€™re forced to admit how much the boy
matters to them. Chase is recruited to give the filthy boy a bath (with
lavender soap, no less), and this scene starts after Chase carries a sleeping
Liam to bed and Chase and Rosalind are tantalizingly alone again...
"He weighs nothing at all." He said it nearly tonelessly.
They sat in silence. Knowing theyâ€™d both just irretrievably given up the safety
of ambivalence toward the boy. Theyâ€™d allowed him to mean something. Neither of
them were pleased about it, but neither would they give him up for the world
The fire popped loudly. Rosalind jumped.
Chase didnâ€™t. He was somewhere else entirely, in the grip of a black, black
mood. He sat in the chair, his face grim as granite, his mouth a forbidding
line, eyes dark as black ice, thump...thump...thumping...his walking stick at
maddeningly even intervals.
"You look cleaner, too," she tried.
He still didnâ€™t look at her. "If Iâ€™m cleaner, it was inadvertent."
Thump...Thump...Thump, went the walking stick.
"And you smell pretty," she added, helpfully.
He looked up at her then. "So do you. You always do."
The bald compliment shocked her.
He smiled faintly, pleased to have surprised her speechless.
"Roses," he added softly. Holding her eyes with his own.
"Yes," she said softly after a stunned moment. Utterly
"Itâ€™s how I think of you. Roses."
How else do you think of me now, Captain Eversea?
It occurred to her that despite his impatience with details, Chase
Eversea noticed the details that mattered. He listened far more than he let on.
He cared about what was truly important.
And heâ€™d been so utterly, unnaturally patient with her, and all that was
gentlemanly, damn him and bless him, all smoldering looks and
carefulness and arms-length after that moment in the brothel. The front of his
shirt was soaked to transparency. Through it she could see the hard planes of
his chest, the dark damp hair curling against it, the smooth tanned column of
his throat rising up out of it. The sleeves were rolled to the elbow, and his
forearms, thick, corded, covered in more manly dark hair, seemed inordinately
fascinating. His hair was plastered to his forehead with water.
He noticed her looking at it and his hand went up and pushed it back, where it
stayed. Somewhat sideways.
"I suppose it depends on how you define "better."
In truth, she wasnâ€™t looking at his forehead. She was mentally
peeling the shirt from him and purring, "oughtnâ€™t we to get out of your wet
things?" and then rubbing his chest slowly dry in front of the fire. Or perhaps
she could lick him dry, like a kitten. And he could then return the favor, as
she would most certainly be wet by then, too.
Their silence acquired a crackling density.
She noticed that neither of them had looked away even once, and once again she
suspected he could read the content of her thoughts, because his eyes had gone
fiercely dark and tremendously interested.
She willed him to come to her.
And then her breath caught, because she was suddenly afraid that he would.
He stood. Somewhat awkwardly.
And then slowly, slowly he moved toward her, the way one might approach a
frightened animal. She rose out of her chair, breathlessly, slowly, as though
his motion dictated hers.
Still, somewhere in her mind, she uncertain whether to meet him halfway or to
He paused and looked down at her. His hands seemed unnaturally still at his
sides, but she was certain it was because he was willing them not to touch her.
Or could not quite decide where to begin if he did touch her.
Or was uncertain whether she would truly welcome his touch.
After all, heâ€™d soundly and in detail rejected a proposal of marriage, which
would have meant access to his body for the rest of her life.
He took a deep breath. "Iâ€™m going to go speak to that Charley now," he
She blinked. For a second she was mute with a grave
She found her voice. "But I want to be there when you do."
"You are certainly not coming with me."
"But-.it might be dangerous."
"Good God! I best not go, then! Danger is scary."
And now she was irritated because he was amused at her
expense. "Donâ€™t jest."
"Rosalind, danger is in the eye of the beholder. Heâ€™s just a
Charley. An officer of the law. Weâ€™re just going to have a...conversation."
She didnâ€™t like the way he said "conversation.". He drawled it a
little too darkly and with a little too much pleasure.
"First Lucy, and now Meggie Plum. Heâ€™s the same Charley, Rosalind,
that walks the Covent Garden neighborhood where Lucy was arrested. I know it.
Something is amiss. I need to do it tonight. Weâ€™ll visit the Montmorency later
as we planned, and youâ€™ll experience your measure of danger then. Will that
do?" he said dryly. "Iâ€™ll send for my cousin Adam to stay with Liam when we do-
he might as well make himself useful as part of the family. But you will stay
here until I return, and youâ€™ll keep the door barred until I do."
Briskly planning, shouldering responsibility without complaint in an instant,
making decisions for everyone, sweeping up everyone in his certainty. That was
"Very well," she said softly.
Was he ever afraid? Whatever drove him to do the right thing was stronger than
fear. Even when he didnâ€™t want to do the right thing. He confronted fear the
way a warrior would.
"How dare," he said almost to himself, "how dare anyone do harm to you, or to
Liam, or to Lucy?"
He smiled a small, unnerving smile. He made the statement sound not indignant,
but like a blackly amused question. Inherent in it was retribution. As though
he almost pitied anyone who attempted to hurt someone he cared about.
Suddenly, subtly, swiftly, without her realizing it, he was so close to her
that the damp of his shirt touched her breasts. She was instantly incongruously
enveloped in lavender and sweat and a hint of white might be Bay Rum. Wet
linen. Man. Chase. So close now that she was surprised steam didnâ€™t rise from
her bodice from the sheer nearness of him.
Still, his hands remained at his sides.
Slowly, slowly, his face came down toward her. She tried: she could not keep
her eyes from fluttering closed. It was sweetly difficult to breathe;
anticipation did that to lungs.
He brushed, just slightly, his cheek along hers, so she could feel the heat of
his skin, the start of whiskers, the hard plane of his jaw. His breath, hot,
soft, brushed the lobe of her ear, and then his firm lips were there, just
scarcely brushing the whorls of it, and gooseflesh danced over her arms and
legs and spine and, for all she knew, her very soul.
"God, how I want you," he whispered.
Her knees nearly buckled.
And then, slowly, slowly, he drew his cheek away.
He stood back to look at her of-a-certainty dazed face, his expression
And then he nodded once, some sort of conclusion drawn or decision made, gave
her one of those half smiles, the devil, and was gone.
Now that she's hooked you, read more excerpts at Julie Anne Longâ€™s website, or...Follow Julie on
Twitter or Facebook or Myspace.
Tell us what you think!
13 comments posted.
You know how to make the reader flip through the pages furiously trying to predict where the next taut tension will be. And then the hero leaves and my breath deflates until the next crisis.
(Alyson Widen 11:02am August 10, 2009)
Alyson -- so glad I can keep you guessing! ;) That's my OWN definition of a page-turner, so I'm delighted my books keep you turning the pages!!
(Julie Long 12:17pm August 10, 2009)
Hmm, too bad I didn't see this book at the bookstore today. It sounds very intriguing, like all your books, Julie. I'll have to see if I can get back there soon to get it. Sometimes Chapters is a little behind in getting books.
(Sigrun Schulz 4:37pm August 10, 2009)
Now the I read this excerpt, I'm hooked. I want to read the book to find out what develops between Chase and Rosalind and how/if they find the missing girls. I hope I have the patience to wait.
(Rosemary Krejsa 4:45pm August 10, 2009)
Hey Sigrun!! How have you been?? Always interesting to find out what books you're able to find in Canada! Let me know what you find out, if you can!
Rosemary, if you're curious, you can find another excerpt on my website! Not that it reveals the whole mystery, or anything -- LOL. But if this excerpt hooked you, I figure I might as well reel you in a little more! LOL.
Martha -- hope you do get a chance to read it! I'd love to know what you think if you do. ;) Can't miss it in the bookstore -- it's bright golden yellow, and the cover hero is even more delicious on the real thing than on the .jpg! :)
(Julie Long 9:19pm August 10, 2009)
Hey Diane! Will you believe the author if she tells you it IS good? LOL. What kinds of things do you like to read? I think STS has a little something for everybody: humor, danger, romance, SERIOUS steaminess, mysterious paintings of busty angels, sinister puppets -- you name it. LOL. Just name something, I'll tell you if it's in there.;)
(Julie Long 9:53pm August 10, 2009)
It does sound like a good book. I read historicals but not as much as contempory.
(Linda Henderson 1:13am August 11, 2009)
Hey Linda! Thanks for reading the excerpt! What kind of historicals do you check out when you read them?
(Julie Long 1:53am August 11, 2009)
Hi patricia! So glad you enjoyed the excerpt! If you check out the book, you'll have to let me know what you think of it! :)
(Julie Long 1:08pm August 12, 2009)
Julie and Patricia in regards to the excerpt I can wrap it up in a single word HOT1
(Susan Lathen 3:32am October 6, 2009)