An historical bride for June
"When a Chattan male falls in love, strike his heart with
fire from above . . . "
They call him Lord Lyon, proud, determinedβand
cursed. He is in need of a bride, but if he falls in love,
he dies. His fervent hope is that by marryingβand
having a sonβwithout love, perhaps he can break the
curse's chains forever.
Enter beautiful Thea Martinβa duke's headstrong,
errant daughter and society's most brilliant matchmaker.
Years ago, she and Lyon were inseparable, until he
disappeared from her life without a word. Now she is
charged with finding Lyon's brideβa woman he cannot
love for a man Thea could love too well.
Excerpt The Chattan Curse: LYON'S BRIDE
"Then I shall need to know what you are looking for if I am
to sift through the large number of women who would be very
pleased to marry a wealthy, well-respected nobleman." Thea
heard herself sounding like a society matron planning a
party. She liked the tone. It was distant and didn't convey
the turbulence of her own emotions.
Lord Lyon's jaw hardened.
When he didn't speak, Sir James prompted him once
again. "Lyon, what are you looking for in a wife?"
His lordship stirred himself then. He answered, still
addressing himself to Sir James, his voice low, almost
inaudible. "Good family."
How original, Thea wanted to say. Instead, she
said, "Absolutely. And other qualities?"
There was a beat of silence. Thea felt her disdain for this
man growing. After the confidences they had shared, how
could he sit beside her as if they were strangers? How
could he be so bloody cold?
"I don't want a cold woman," he said as if he'd divined her
thoughts. "My mother was cold. Some say I am as well."
But he didn't used to be. A wave of sadness swept away her
disdain.
"Good with children," he continued. "Our children must be
her priority."
Something that hadn't been true about his mother.
Thea resisted the urge to place a comforting hand upon his
arm. If Neal hadn't valued their friendship, he certainly
wouldn't want her pity now.
"And she must be someone I cannot like," he said. "Admired
by others . . . but I must not like her."
Warm thoughts of him vanished from Thea's mind. "You don't
want to βlike' the woman who will be your wife?"
At last faced her, his features set. "No."
"My lord, that is a ludicrous, irresponsible position." The
words burst out of her, carried by her previous
disappointments in him.
Apparently, few talked to Lord Lyon in such a direct
manner. Sir James's mouth dropped open.
His lordship sat up even taller. "I find it very
responsible."
"Then you are deceiving yourself," Thea said. She'd gone
this far, she might as well go further. "Not all marriages
can be built on love, but those are the best. At the very
least there should be the compatibility of admiration and
respect. Of liking the person you take a vow before God to
cherish and honor."
"That is your opinion. It is not mine."
Thea looked into his eyes and saw a stranger. "Whatever
happen to that boy I once knew who believed in friendship?"
she said. "That lad whose confidences I valued and whose
opinion I trusted?"
"Let us take a moment to consider our words," Sir James
advised as if wishing to avert a disaster.
"I can't help you arrange such a marriage as this," Thea
went on, ignoring the lawyer. "Knowing what I do of you, it
would not be right."
"You know nothing of me," Lord Lyon countered.
"I beg to differ, my lord. I may know more of you than you
know of yourself."
"And what would that be?" he challenged.
Thea sat back, realizing she was now on very sensitive
ground. How well did she know him? How much had he changed?
Certainly she wasn't the same person she'd been during
those long ago summer days.
But one thing was still clear in her mindβshe
believed in love.
The acknowledgement startled her. After all Boyd, her
father, her family had put her through, she still believed.
It isn't often one is struck with self-knowledge, and every
time it is surprising. Suddenly, she realized why she'd set
herself up as a matchmaker. She wanted to right wrongs, to
guide others away from the disastrous decisions she'd made
in her own life.
She softened her voice. "My lord, marriage is a difficult
endeavor. I'm not saying you must love your wife, but you
must like her. Otherwise you will be saddling yourself to a
cold, uncompromising life." The sort of life his parents
had all those years ago.
The sort of life she remembered him vowing never to live.
Her change in tone worked. The fury in his eyes died,
replaced by hopelessness. "You don't understand."
"Then explain to me," she said.
"I'm cursed."
Thea blinked, uncertain if he was being dramatic or
factual. "Cursed?"
"Yes," he said with complete seriousness. "And my only hope
of survival is to marry someone I don't like, that I will
never be able to abide. It will call for a very special
woman. I don't want someone I would detest. There is
difference between not liking and detesting."
Thea glanced at Sir James to see if he thought his lordship
was spouting nonsense. He nodded his head as if agreeing
with Lord Lyon.
"You believe him cursed as well?" Thea challenged the
solicitor.
Sir James shrugged. "There is evidence to suggest it."
For a second, Thea wondered if she had wandered into a
world of nonsenseβand then her mind seized upon
another possibility. A sinister one.
"Is my brother behind this?" she demanded.
Both Lord Lyon and Sir James acted perplexed at her
accusation, but she was on to the game now. This was the
only explanation that made sense. She stood. "Oh, this was
very clever of him. I know Horace is not happy that I
remain independent and even dare to go so far as to work
for my living. But this?" She shook her head. "You should
be ashamed of yourself, Sir James. And you, Lord Lyon. What
a faithless friend you are. Apparently your title has
destroyed whatever was good inside of you."
"I beg your pardon?" Lord Lyon said. He'd risen when she
did and now pretended to be clueless in the face of her
accusation.
She moved toward the door. Her excitement over a healthy
commission turned to disappointment.
Sir James came around the desk toward her. "Mrs. Martin,
please, I don't know what we said to upset youβ"
She cut him off by whirling around, her outstretched hand a
warning that she did not want him to come closer. "Enough.
I can't believe I wasted a half shilling on the two of you.
Here you are giving into my brother's schemes and for what?
A payment, Sir James? Some sort of cloakroom political deal
in the House of Lords, Lord Lyon? Oh, yes, I know how the
duke works. He's always hatching new alliances for his own
benefit. But I once thought you the closest of friends and
to my great dismay, you have grown into a man much like
your parentsβcold, distant, everything you said you
wouldn't be. Curses," she said, biting out the word as if
it were an epithet. "Did you really believe I would be so
gullible? Well, return to my brother and tell him no one
believes in curses in this day and age. Not even his
sister, the one he refuses to acknowledge." With that
pronouncement, she opened the door and sailed out of the
room.
"Thea, come back here," Neal ordered.
Her response was to keep walking.
Start Reading LYON'S BRIDE Now
 Chattan Curse LYON'S BRIDE
#1.0
β’ May 2012
 THE SCOTTISH WITCH
#2.0
β’ November 2012
Our Past Week of Fresh Picks
|
© 2003-2026