"The Queen's mission brings together two unlikely companions leading to a wonderful romance!"
Reviewed by Kathyrn Little
Posted November 18, 2011
Romance Historical
Holly is a rambunctious heroine. She doesn't take "no" for
an answer and is always willing to do anything for fun.
She does not necessarily behave as a "lady" is expect to for
her class and status, but the reader will love her open
nature. Holly's surprisingly brash nature brings her to the
attention of Queen Victoria, who asks for her aid in
discovering who has taken a prized colt. The task requires
her cooperation with Colin, the Earl of Drayton. The two
experience instant sparks. Though Colin and Holly do not always get along, their
dialogue is continuously entertaining. Their clashes will
have the reader either laughing out loud or avidly turning
the pages. Neither one truly trusts the other, suspecting
each other of having a hand in the colts' disappearance.
Can Holly and Colin reconcile their differences enough to
complete their royal mission? RECKLESSLY YOURS has it all. The main characters will
capture and hold the readers' interest. The mystery of the
colt keeps the story moving at a brisk pace. The building
tension and romance between the main characters will keep
the suspense high even in the slower parts of the novel.
The events were fast-paced overall. The romance was
believable and the heroine was not typical, making the story
that much better.
SUMMARY
Holly has always been the reckless Sutherland sister, the
one most likely to hitch up her skirts and gallop astride a
powerful stallion. Holly's affinity for horses leads Queen
Victoria to enlist her help when a prized Thoroughbred colt
disappears. To catch the horse thief, Holly must put on her
best manners and mingle with the dashing Colin Ashworth,
Earl of Drayton. Uncertain she can trust him, she is also
powerfully attracted to him. As Holly's growing suspicions threaten to expose the truth
about the stolen horse, Colin's head tells him to distance
himself. But with his heart, body, and soul all recklessly
clamoring for Holly, he finds her impossible to resist...
ExcerptWrong. A mistake. Go back.
You have sworn . . .
His conscience railing at him, Colin cleared the top
step with Holly secure in his arms. He had no permanent
bedchamber in this house, but he strode to the guestroom
he'd used in the past. The bed, curtained in heavy brocade
and covered in supple satin, beckoned like a night-darkened
glen dripping in foliage and draped in vines.
He moved past it and went instead to the window.
Letting Holly's feet slide to the floor, he kept one arm
solidly around her waist while he flung the curtains wide.
Cloud-dappled moonlight spilled into the room, gilding her
milky skin and transforming her eyes to emerald-tinged
stars. Those eyes . . .
Shimmered with emotion, and communicated the very gift
he longed to see.
Downstairs, he had almost confessed all, almost told her
he loved her and had from the very first. Now, seeing her
glowing like a moon goddess with her lips parted and her
heart in her eyes, he almost spoke those words.
Instead he expelled a long sigh that stirred the fallen
tendrils beside her face. He swept his fingers through her
hair again, filling his hands with an immeasurable treasure
of rare crimson gold. "By God, you're beautiful."
A shadow dimmed her eyes, and he remembered that in
their society, redheads were not accustomed to being
considered beautiful. That she could think of herself as
anything less than a goddess cast a pall over his own
pleasure in having her in his arms. He couldn't bear it; he
wouldn't have it.
Their time together would be too short for such
misgivings.
"You are beautiful and I'll prove it to you," he said,
as if she had demurred out loud.
He kissed her and swept his tongue into her mouth when
her lips opened to him. Spurred by the unleashing of a
passion too long held in check, he moved his hands over
her, everywhere, seeking out her most feminine places,
learning every curve and line of her through her clothing,
while she panted into him and yielded her body against his.
He filled his hands with the weight of her breasts, then
claimed her hips and belly and buttocks. Trembling, all
awareness of time and place lost to the rushing, aching
heat that drove him, he bunched her trailing skirts in his
fist and raised them.
She gave a desperate whimper, and he stilled his hands
while his heart shook his rib cage. The sound spilled
through her lips again, but with it came a yes. She
tightened her arms around him.
He swept her up again. This time he went to the bed and
tossed her lengthwise into the pool of moonlight slanting
across the coverlet. Crawling up over her, he braced his
hands on either side of her face and dipped his lips to her
smooth neck. Between kisses, he spoke her name.
"Holly?" It was a question, an appeal for permission,
and it contained more vulnerability than he had dared
express in many years.
"Yes," she repeated that single syllable, assuring him
she knew as well as he why they were there, and what would
follow.
Yes. Oh God, yes. His body responded with a surge of
lust that strained his cock against his breeches. Whisking
open the buttons of her riding jacket, he shoved its edges
aside and dropped his face to her bodice, burying his nose
and lips in sultry flesh. Tantalizing, spicy, her essence
spiraled through him and made him tipsy with pleasure. He
sat up and tore his coat from his arms. He ripped his
neckcloth free. Without untying the laces, tugged his shirt
over his head and tossed it away.
Raising her up to a sitting position, he went to work on
the buttons down the back of her dress. Soon her bodice had
joined the growing pile on the floor. She herself reached
for the ties that held her skirts in place.
His conscience nudged, and he closed his hand over
hers. "You should tell me to go to the devil."
The sudden swat to the side of his head not only
startled him, but smarted, too. She grabbed his shoulders
and pulled him to her, nose to nose. "If you wish to go to
the devil," she said fiercely, angrily, "then go. Don't put
it on me."
"I only meant . . ."
She shook her head. "No. You must do as you wish. Be
here with me, now, because you wish to be. It is the only
reason I am here." A fiery tendril slid into her face. She
blew it back, and suddenly her vehemence faded and the
vulnerability of a girl, a virtuous, untouched girl, peeped
through. "I am here," she whispered, "doing as I have never
done before because . . ."
"Why, dear heart? Why now?"
"Because of you," she said simply, the quiver in her
voice resonating like the pluck of a harp. "And I will not
take it back."
"Nor will I." No, were he granted one wish, it would be
to change his life, his family, his father . . . his
legacy. But to wish himself elsewhere but in that room and
on that bed, gazing into the eyes of this one woman—that he
would not have changed for all the priceless colts in the
world.
For tonight, he would cease to be the Earl of Drayton,
heir to the Duke of Masterfield. He'd merely be a man, with
the world's most desirable goddess sprawled lushly beneath
him, her body warm and welcoming, her eyes misty with
desire and consent. The tenderness on her face made him
feel good enough, blameless enough, for the first time in
his life. Whatever else they would share, she had already
bestowed a rare gift, the greatest possible gift.
"Nothing else exists tonight." His lips to her ear, his
teeth nipped at the tender lobe. "We won't think of this as
my father's house. We aren't in a house at all, but on a
cloud just beneath heaven."
"And no one can hurt us or judge us or hinder us."
"That's right, dearest heart." He slid her loosened
skirts down her long, slim legs. Crawling back up to her
side, he kissed a trail from her chin down her throat to
the swell of her breasts at the neckline of her
chemise. "We're free."
Her hands ran through his hair. She locked her fingers
behind his head and pressed him more fully to her
bosom. "Free to rule ourselves."
"And our desires."
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