Two scandalous episodes in one for those who enjoy the
celebrity side of Regency romance. What could be more
juicy
than gossip about SCANDAL AT THE MIDSUMMER'S BALL when
bare
shoulders, fans and strolls in the scented garden await!
THE OFFICER'S TEMPTATION by Marguerite Kaye invites us to
the ball hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Brockmore in
their country residence in June 1817. London was so smelly
in summer that the wealthy preferred country houses,
entertaining themselves by inviting guests to stay.
Colonel
Fergus Kennedy is present, somewhat reluctantly.
Wellington
has offered him a valued diplomatic post in Cairo, but to
be respectable overseas he must wed suitably first. A
young
lady in need of a match will be waiting for him at the
ball. Courtesy introduction over, he meets someone far
more
interesting. She's an acrobat, juggler and entertainer.
Katerina of the Flying Vengarovs, in fact.
I always admire Marguerite Kaye for her production of
unusual heroines and this time she has outdone herself.
Indecently dressed by comparison, astonishingly flexible
and daring, Katerina brought a smile to my lips right
away.
Like Fergus she is well travelled and used to hardships.
But she's completely unsuitable for a diplomat's wife.
THE DEBUTANTE'S AWAKENING by Bronwyn Scott sets Miss Zara
Titus at the same party, embarrassingly without the
viscount fiancé who has just broken their match. How
shabby
to be back on the marriage mart. If she is to restore her
reputation she must secure an offer from someone of even
higher stature. Kael Gage doesn't fit that bill, a mere
country squire, but on the other hand he doesn't care a
fig
for rumours. With picnics, boating, horse racing and other
delightful pursuits, all the guests enjoy the week of the
house party. The evenings are filled with music recitals,
acrobatic entertainments and candlelit dinners. Zara is
tired of formality though, and wants excitement -
something
like swimming unclothed with a man, however scandalous
that
would be.
Two adult romances from two great authors await and I
highly recommend SCANDAL AT THE MIDSUMMER'S BALL. With a
varied and lively cast and plenty of entertainment it's
ideal for those who can't choose between the maze and the
pinery for a rendezvous!
Two forbidden relationships…one house party to
remember!THE OFFICER'S TEMPTATION by Marguerite Kaye
Colonel Fergus Kennedy must make a suitable match at the
Midsummer Ball. But when this officer encounters sultry
acrobat Katerina Vengarov, he finds himself torn between
duty…and heart-stopping, irresistible passion!
THE DEBUTANTE'S AWAKENING by Bronwyn Scott
Kael Gage is the last person at the Midsummer Ball Miss
Zara
Titus should speak to—and anything more is definitely
off-limits! But the notorious rake seems determined to
awaken this innocent debutante's every desire…
Excerpt
The Debutante's Awakening. Chapter 2
Kael Gage recognised a cat-and-mouse game when he saw it.
He and the striking woman in the butter-yellow muslin were
initiating a subtly aggressive flirtation, each of them
seeking to command the other, their roles switching from
pursuer to pursuant with a motion of the eyes and the
flick of a fan from across the room.
It was his turn to answer and he would do so with a
calculated move. He would wait and make her wonder if he
would indeed respond. There was no need to rush over
immediately. To do so would concede early victory and put
him in her power as a man she could manipulate. It would
not enhance his appeal. A woman liked nothing as much as
the man she couldn’t have. Likewise, a woman lost interest
in a man who was too easily won. Near unattainability was
key.
Kael turned his attentions back to the conversation
between Falkner and Farthingale, which had its own
engaging value, Falkner in his dark, puritanically plain
clothing questioning the business practices of the
flamboyantly garbed Sir Timothy Farthingale, but there
were practical reasons too for not approaching his lovely
butter-gowned flirt just yet. To do so while she was in
the duke’s company and her mother’s would be to court
rejection outright.
He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what the duke
was whispering to the pretty brunette right now, or to
know the meaning behind her mother’s brief, shrewd glance
in his direction. Kael smiled in their direction,
indicating he was aware of their polite censure and that
he didn’t care a whit. During his ten years on the town,
he’d fought three duels of honour—two with pistols which
meant he’d faced mortality at twenty paces at dawn, one of
the more frightening things a man could do. He would not
be intimidated by a matchmaking mama’s stare and a duke’s
whisper.
Still, whatever they whispered to his flirt was
undoubtedly true. That he was no good; he fraternised with
the wrong sort of women—opera singers, actresses, jewels
of the demi-monde and a certain kind of experienced
tonnish woman. He couldn’t deny it. He did more than
fraternise with them. He seduced them, bedded them, found
physical pleasure with them. But a lot of men did that,
even married ones. What was probably less forgivable in
their eyes was that he had no prospects. His family tree
was a stump with broken branches everywhere. His
grandfather had been an earl with a prolific ability to
produce reckless sons—seven of them, in fact, only the
heir still living—but a less prolific ability to generate
income which had left six of those careless sons to fend
for themselves, his own father included.
As a result, Kael had his good looks to recommend him, but
not much else except a small horse farm in Sussex. It
meant he was fit for a squire’s daughter or a gentleman
farmer’s girl—a lesson that had been drilled into him
since he was eighteen; the fine debutantes of the ton
might flirt with a man like him, but they’d never marry
him. It had been a hard lesson for an eager grandson of an
earl to learn, no matter how pretty the face delivering
it.
Now, at the age of thirty, he knew very well for a fine
diamond of the first water like Miss Butter-Gown, he was
persona non grata, which served to make him contrary. It
made him want to play the game all the more, just to be
contrary, simply because he could. From the flick of her
fan, she did too. She was restless. It was there in her
gaze, hidden behind that confident smile of hers as she
moved from group to group, and in the defiant tilt of her
head that she couldn’t quite hide. She didn’t want to be
here. How very interesting. Most women would kill to be
here. To find someone who would not, was intriguing. It
made her different, it made her stand out. It made him
want to know her. What sort of woman would willingly
eschew this opportunity?
This was shaping up to be quite the entertaining house
party. He’d not expected it. This was not his usual venue.
He’d merely come as a means of getting out of London, all
too happy to be Jeremy Giltner’s guest. The city had
become rather ‘hot’ for him at present in a way that had
nothing to do with the weather.
Kael waited until after the acrobatic display by the
Flying Vengarovs that evening to make his response. It had
been a scintillating performance, leaving spirits high and
imaginations aroused. Perhaps exactly what their host
intended, Kael thought with cynicism. The Silver Fox did
nothing by accident. Katerina Vengarov had been nearly
naked as she’d navigated the tightrope strung across the
ballroom high above the floor, igniting all sorts of
fantasies in the male mind, while her chiselled brother
had likely made the same impact on the female population.
Kael’s particular quarry slipped from the ballroom on to
the terrace, cheeks flushed from the heat and maybe more.
She’d been restless all night. He’d watched her at dinner;
her eyes too bright, her laughter too forced. No one else
would notice, it would be beyond their imagination to
conceive of someone not wanting to be here. But it was not
beyond his, especially now that he knew who she was. Miss
Zara Titus. He’d asked around, discreetly of course.
Haymore’s intended, or should he say ‘unintended’? Rumour
had it, the split was mutual. But Kael had his doubts.
What was politically correct was often not exactly the
truth, but a polite rendering of it. The chit was
beautiful, captivatingly so with intelligent hazel eyes,
piles of satin-shiny coffee-coloured hair and a body that
did a dressmaker proud. He’d seen her in two gowns now,
each one showing her to be more stunning than the last.
Haymore must have been out of his mind to let her go. Then
again, he’d heard rumours about Haymore too. It wasn’t
beyond the realm of possibility.
Kael counted to five and began to make his way towards the
doors, sidling out into the cool night. He found her
easily in a far corner of the veranda, the silver of her
gown giving her away in the moonlight although her posture
clearly indicated she wanted to be alone. Ah, defiant and
restless. A potent combination and one he understood. He’d
been defiant and restless since he was twenty and Miss
Ella Davison had informed him she was far above his reach
no matter how much she liked his kisses. It had only
become worse in the intervening decade.
He leaned against the stone balustrade overlooking the
gardens and gave her an assessing smile, letting his eyes
hold hers with a brazenness that would have sent a shy
miss like Ariana Falk running for the shelter of the
ballroom. ‘So, you’re Miss Zara Titus, the jilt.’
Her green eyes narrowed but held. Her response was even
and neutral, but he noticed her gloved hands tightened
almost imperceptibly on the balustrade. She didn’t like
the term. ‘What a terrible thing to say.’
‘What an honest thing to say,’ Kael drawled. ‘It’s true,
after all, isn’t it? You jilted Haymore. Why shouldn’t we
speak plainly? The name’s Gage, by the way. Kael Gage.’
She straightened, her eyes firing delightful little sparks
of emerald flame. ‘You assume I want to know.’
He chuckled. ‘Oh, you do.’ He flicked his gaze to the fan
dangling from her wrist. ‘You all but invited me out
here.’ He reached for her hand, drawing circles on her
palm through the fabric of her glove as he gave her a
smouldering glance through lowered eyelids. ‘I know what
you want, Zara.’ He lowered his voice. ‘We were made to
fly. Why do you think our “esteemed” host invited the
acrobats? To set the mood rather blatantly, to stir our
senses, to challenge our grasp of the possibilities that
await us.’ He brought her palm against his cheek and
placed a kiss at its centre, feeling her pulse catch in
her wrist. ‘You want to fly. You were made to fly.’
‘With you?’ Her tone was aloof. Her body was not. There
was interest in her eyes as she took him in and that
interest betrayed the direction of her thoughts.
‘Absolutely with me, with a man who knows what you need.’
Kael raised his eyes to hers, his meaning naked in his
gaze. She was already wondering what he might show her.
Zara Titus had spirit.
‘What is it that you think I need?’ She angled her head
coyly, the streamers of light from the ballroom catching
the tiny diamonds at her ears, a subtle reminder that she
was indeed a woman far above him in station.
‘To be kissed and perhaps more.’
‘By a man I hardly know?’ She made no move to pull her
hand away, making it clear she was not challenging him,
but daring him. Her body had inched slightly closer to
his, her lips had parted and, by Jove, he was tempted to
take that invitation, to prove himself. The night was
quiet about them except for the crickets in the bushes. It
was easy to forget there was a ballroom of people a few
yards away. Their privacy was an illusion. He’d do well to
remember that. If they were seen…well, it was far too
early in the game to risk such a thing.
‘Don’t you think it’s better that way?’ Kael prompted,
fuelling the flames of her defiance. ‘No expectations
beyond the here and now, no plans beyond the week.’ He
gave her a half-smile and released her hand, stepping
away. It was always best to leave them wanting more and he
was confident the seed was planted. He’d issued his
invitation. It was up to her to accept it, to decide what
she wanted to do with it. He gave her a last bit of
encouragement. ‘To fly is your destiny, Zara. A woman such
as you can hardly seek to escape it. You’ll see.
Resistance is futile.’
What was he doing, seducing an innocent under the duke’s
matchmaking nose? Kael tossed back a healthy dose of
Brockmore’s excellent and expensive brandy conveniently
left in decanters in the gentlemen’s chambers. This was
the height of madness and he ought to know. He’d been
party to plenty of madness in his day. It was insanity
enough to seduce Zara Titus; a virgin, a daughter of a
peer, and a wealthy heiress. To do it at party
specifically designed to create marriages was a whole
other level of crazy. This party would usually be off
limits to him. This was rarefied air he was breathing to
move in such elevated circles. He was a lowly horse
breeder. These guests were the richest, the most powerful
people in England. The girl was off limits too. She was
the sort of woman who would claim everything a man had,
body and soul, the sort of woman a man couldn’t afford to
fail. He’d already failed one important woman in his life.
The precedent was set. He couldn’t possibly make a woman
like Zara Titus happy in the long run. It wasn’t in his
scope of capabilities.
He poured another glass and swallowed it down. And yet,
even knowing better than to pursue her, he couldn’t resist
the allure of her confidence, of her beauty. He couldn’t
resist the temptation of waking her to passion’s joys. The
curiosity behind her innocence drew him, appealed to him,
even as the consequences for what he was about to do
terrified him. But only, his wicked conscience reminded
him, if he was caught.
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