Miss Emily Grey's lies have successfully installed her into the prominent Leland family. They believe her to be their son's widow whom he wed while he served in India. Emily's quiet and reserved behavior endears her, as well as her reluctance to accept an allowance and a new wardrobe. When her "husband" returns from the dead, Emily waits for him to expose her. Her luck holds as he has limited amnesia from his war wounds.
Captain Matthew Leland played the dutiful and good son until he thought he would explode. Matthew joined the army and reveled in the freedom it allowed him. His bravery is noted, but his recklessness leads to arrogance. A terrible and tragic mistake occurs, making him review his choices. After a brutal battle, he receives a severe wound. When Matthew realizes the army listed him as dead, he races home to his grieving family, only to come face to face with his -- wife?
Matthew decides not to expose Emily until he can determine her motives. She proves to be an excellent actress having deceived everyone for a year. Matthew loves matching wits with her and finds himself falling under her spell.
Ms. Callen engages readers in Emily and Matthew's seductive dance as Emily's true identity is shrouded in mystery. The clues unfold with slow precision leaving readers wavering. Is Emily a schemer or a desperate survivor?
The prodigal returns . . .
It's an absolute scandal when Captain Matthew Leland
arrives at Madingley Court. Presumed dead in battle, his
sudden appearance gives the ton quite the shock. But no one
is more surprised than Matthew, because waiting for him at
home is a bewitching, blue-eyed beauty - and she claims to
be his wife!
Miss Emily Grey was alone in the world when a knight in
shining armor came to her rescue, claimed her heart, and
then disappeared. But now her little white lie, a desperate
act of self-preservation, has come back to haunt her. Her
husband, once a far-off fantasy, is now a flesh-and-blood
man who insists she share his bed . . .
Matthew has no memory of any marriage to this scheming
seductress, and he's determined to expose her in every way.
But a life with the exquisite Emily will prove
irresistible . . . and a marriage of deception will become
a marriage of sweet, sweet surrender.
EXCERPT
Emily Grey opened her eyes, thinking groggily that she was
supposed to be in the drawing room. Instead she was lying on
her back, beneath the canopy of a bedβin her husbandβs bedroom.
It all came to her suddenly, and her wary gaze found the man
whoβd brought her here, who now watched her after his
pleasant greeting.
The dead man sheβd claimed as her husband.
Sheβd thought sheβd become a strong woman, but his entrance
into the drawing room had stunned her so that sheβd been
speechless, unable to think about what to do. Sheβd fully
expected to find herself tossed from the house.
But he hadnβt denounced her. When heβd said heβd lost part
of his memory, her relief had been so absolute she must have
fainted. How appallingly weak of her. Weakness was a
liability; only her strength and her wits would see her
through this now.
She found herself studying Captain Matthew Leland, trying to
remember the man sheβd known for only a few hours not quite
two years ago, the man whose death sheβd used for her own
convenience.
But he wasnβt dead. He was very much alive, and alone with
her in the bedroom they were supposed to share as husband
and wife.
But he wasnβt her husband.
She wouldnβt panic. This rare illness of his had given her
the chance to continue as his wife. She was strong now, and
had learned she was capable of doing terrible things in
order to survive. And she would survive this.
βMatthew?β His name came out in a feigned whisper of disbelief.
Casually he leaned against the bedpost, arms folded across
his chest, and a small smile turned up his lips. He was a
handsome man, as sheβd thought from the first moment sheβd
seen him on a boat in the stormy English Channel. He had
dark, auburn hair that glistened by lamplight. His amused
eyes were hazel, not just one color, but changeable the more
she looked at him. When sheβd first met him, sheβd thought
his eyes intense, as if he would focus only on her whenever
they spoke together. With a classically square jaw and thin
lips, he was the picture of what a handsome man should look
like. He was still broad with muscle, perhaps even more so
since heβd been serving as a soldier in India. His coat
almost seemed too tight across his shoulders, as if he
hadnβt had time to purchase a new one since heβd been back.
Well, of course, he hadnβt. Heβd rushed straight from the
ship to tell his parents that he was aliveβonly to find a
wife he didnβt remember.
What would his wife do?
Without a second thought, she flung herself from the bed and
into his arms. He didnβt even stagger, so strong was he. She
thought he hesitated, but at last his arms came around her,
and she was enveloped by warmthβbut not security. She would
never delude herself. Sheβd grown up thinking that marriage
meant security, but sheβd found it herself, without needing
an actual husband. Sheβd learned never to rely on anyone else.
At last she leaned back to look up at him, smiling with
happiness, forcing tears to glisten in her eyes. βMatthew!β
She repeated his name with gladness and joy.
He was smiling down at her, which gave her some ease, but he
studied her face closely. Should she kiss him, distract him
from thinking too deeply? She was fully prepared to do what
was necessary, butβ¦something stopped her.
βThey called you Emily,β he said slowly, as if testing out
her name on his tongue, his voice a deep rumble of masculinity.
She grinned as her hands stroked down his shoulders. βI
was Emily Grey, but you made me a Leland.β She let
her smile fade. βBut now I donβt know what to do. I want to
show my happiness for your safe return, and cry at the same
time. Do you truly remember nothing?β
He shook his head. βA fine homecoming for a wife who hadnβt
allowed herself to hope I would return.β
His hands slid down her back slowly, coming to rest on her
waist. Sheβd wanted to distract him, but strangely, just his
touch was distracting her. She could not risk such a mental
failing.
βHow could I hope?β she asked, fingering his lapels. βThey
said you were dead. I was ill when your mother told me. Even
now I remember how lost I felt. But to you, I am just a
newly introduced stranger.β As a tear fell from her lashes,
she was grateful for such a mask behind which to hide.
Though she was playing with fire, she reached to touch his
cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and roughness of stubble.
Suddenly, his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her even
more intimately against him. His gaze was centered on her
mouth.
He thought she was his wife. He could claim his marital rights.
She found she couldnβt breathe, her breasts rising and
falling against the hard wall of his chest. Though he was
not an exceptionally tall man like his cousin the duke, he
still leaned over her, powerful and intimidating. If he ever
remembered everythingβ
He bent even closer, his mouth just above hers. She felt his
breath, knew an intense ache that she couldnβt identify. To
her surprise, at the last second he turned his head and
pressed his warm lips to her cheek. He let her go so quickly
that she stumbled back against the bed.
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