“You are nothing but a gypsy!”
So the haughty Lord Lonsdale accused Dante at the reading
of his grandfather’s will. To the astonishment of the ton,
the late marquis had disinherited the petulant lord,
leaving his vast estate to the darkly handsome Romany horse
trader. Acres of land, fabulous wealth, rich manor houses –
all these were his for the taking, provided Dante would
also take the bride his grandfather had specified.
“You stole a kiss from me the first time we met.”
So claimed the lovely Lady Esme Harcourt. The arrogant
gypsy had swept her into his arms at a county fair,
awakening both her desire and her disdain. Though her hand
might be promised to the new Marquis of Alston, she swore
she would never agree to wed a man whose birth put him so
far beneath her. But no matter how she protested against
Dante as her husband, her heart had already accepted the
free-spirited Rom as her wild Gypsy Lover.
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