"Can true love conquer all?"
Reviewed by Jessica Dunn
Posted July 27, 2012
Romance Historical
In the shadows of the room she silently sneaks in to pick a
lock of one of the many trunks. Sophia Darnly can't believe
her life has come to this, breaking into a very dangerous
criminal's home with the intent of stealing from him. She
tries to convince herself that the property is rightfully
hers so it's not really stealing. And of course if she
doesn't steal it they had promised to do worse things to
her than burn her warehouse down. Sophia's only means of
living as a silk trader is already in jeopardy, she has to
succeed and bring the ledger to them. Sophia wrestles with
her predicament and wonders if this was her destiny as the
daughter of a judge who was hanged for selling his
verdicts.
In the stillness of the room Kier conceals himself within
a dark corner. He is curious who this female attempting
to rob him of his prize is. Kier resolves to wait for her to
unearth the ledger and then he will rob her of it. It is
essential to his vengeance that he acquires the ledger.
Five years ago they set him on fire and left him for dead
and now he would make them pay. Kier holds his breath for a
moment as she lifts something from the trunk. Is it the
ledger? As she turns she catches sight of him. It's now or
never for Kier, he comes forward to snatch the ledger and
they both receive a surprise when the former lovers' eyes
meet.
Kris Kennedy's DECEPTION is a complex story that will have
you riveted from the prologue to the epilogue. I was
fascinated by Kennedy's Commenda which I can only explain
as a mafia like group set in England's late 1200's. The
character of Sophia Darnly is multifaceted, beginning with
a father whom she loved yet despised for his crimes so much
that she kept a ledger of all his wrong doings that she
later had to steal in order to continue living with her
secret identity. What I enjoyed most was witnessing Kier
and Sophia try to stick to their original goals, where each
wants/needs the ledger for their own purpose while
desperately trying not to fall in love again.
DECEPTION is
a stimulating novel that will provoke your mind as well as
your senses while you try to unravel the long held mystery,
can true love conquer all?
SUMMARY
Award-winning author Kris Kennedy brings the treacherous
world of thirteenth-century England to life in this
scorching romantic adventure! A dashing con
man Breaking and entering to reclaim her corrupt
late father’s ledger comes surprisingly easily to Sophia
Darnly. But is it mere coincidence that her misdeed
unexpectedly reunites her with Kier, the outlaw lover who
abandoned her years ago? A lady skilled in
trickery Time has not erased Sophia from Kier’s
heart, nor tamed her fiery spirit. She boldly insinuates
herself into his plans. But Kier is on a mission of revenge,
and can’t allow even the woman he once loved to stop him.
A game that could get them both killed
The danger mounts as they lure the leader of a
powerful consortium who needs the fabled Darnly ledger—and
all its damning details about the wealthiest merchants of
England— to execute his nefarious plan. Their rekindled
passion burns hot, but when they discover they too are the
targets of a deadly deception, the fate of their love, and
of England itself, lies in the balance.
ExcerptEngland, 1294
.....Sophia awoke with two firm convictions: she needed
to know more about Mistral Company, and she needed gowns. It
was simply a matter of which should come first.
She stood in the great hall of the apartment, peering at
the huge oaken coffers scattered about the room, then down
at her body. Account books, or gowns?
She went to find Kier.
\"Kier,\" she called out softly as she pushed open the door
that led to the small outdoor portico, where he had slept
last night.
She stopped short. Her heart almost stopped beating.
He was half–dressed, wearing only breeches. His
shirt was off and he was engaged in some sort of physical
exertion that made her knees feel watery.
His body was stretched out low over the ground, like a
plank. He held himself up on the balls of his feet and one
hand. The other was tucked in the small of his back as he
lowered himself on his hand, very slowly, until the tip of
his nose touched the earth.
Then, just as slowly, he unbent his elbow and pushed his
body back up again.
She made a gasping, breathy sort of sound.
Birds were plentiful amid the greenery of the old Roman
vineyard entangled on the hillside, and they sang riotously
in the morning air. Sounds from the town and quay below
floated up too, shouts announcing new wine, someone calling
for additional rope, squawking chickens. Amid all this, the
sound Sophia had made was such a small sound. Likely, Kier
had not even noticed.
Without turning his head, he said, \"What is it, Sophia?\"
He lowered his body down again.
She yanked her jaw shut. \"I was . . . I thought to
inquire . . .\"
His hair, untethered, fell across his cheek as he turned
to look up at her, one palm still overturned at the small of
his back. He was covered in a magnificent sheen of sweat.
The perspiration covering her was not magnificent. It was
hot and uncomfortable, but he, he looked like a Greek statue
in the rain. His arms and back were contours of sculpted
muscle. And his back . . . Good God.
She took a step back in horror. The valley of his spine
and plains of his lower back were satiny–smooth, but
across his shoulder blade and like a brand over the ridge of
his shoulder, an entire swath of flesh was burned, scarred,
puckered, searing white, folding back on itself like jagged
teeth marks.
\"Sophia?\" he said curtly.
She tore her gaze up. \"I was . . . perhaps . . .
wondering . . . I mean to say . . .\" She was babbling. Had
she ever babbled before? \"Your back—\"
He pushed up off his hands and leaped lightly to his
feet, and yanked a tunic off the bench behind him. \"You are
here to discuss my back?\"
She snapped her gaze away. \"Of course not.\"
\"Then what?\"
His rough–spun breeches hung loosely around his
hips, draping down on one side, so she saw the flat bone of
his hip. The drawstring dangled loosely before his . . .
\"The books,\" she managed to say. She might have
squeaked it.
He jammed the tunic down over his head, covering his
chest and ridged stomach. She tore her gaze up. His
sweat–damped head came out the top and the gaze he
pinned on her was grim.
\"What books?\"
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