For charm - and kindness, Arnaut has no equal
Lean and handsome, with glossy black hair and dark eyes that crinkle at the corners into a devastating smile, Arnaut never has the least trouble in attracting girls...or in bringing ladies of any age under his spell. His exquisite manners and warm heart only add to his charms.
Of course, there is a dark side to all this... he must use these talents for political ends. Will he survive?
"Messages
passed between nobles in France and England, spies bent on killing and maiming
the messengers - a widow and a rake, gutsy chances that pay off despite serious
injuries, and love that surmounts difference in status, this is a very
enjoyable adventure and love story combined."
The mysterious lake of Bethmale
Read a short excerpt
Well aware of his powers, Louise is wary of Arnaut, but can she resist him?
In the window embrasure near the door
of the boudoir, Arnaut was waiting. He turned to watch her approach, his smile growing
wider as she came near. It was like being a fish on a hook. In spite of all her
warnings to herself, she could not resist those gleaming almond eyes, that charming
smile. You must not, her mind screamed, but her heart screamed back, Just this
once.... Fool, fool! her mind warned even as she quickened her step.
‘Alone at last,’ he breathed, seizing
her hand and turning it over to press a kiss on her wrist.
The last shreds of her
common sense vanished at the sensations this caused. To hide her hurried breathing,
she made a show of turning him towards the window. Taking his right hand, she examined
it thoroughly. The puckered scars were paling but still very obvious. She shook
her head sadly. ‘I fear you will carry these marks always.’
His mouth curved in a grin. ‘No matter,
it still works properly.’ He reached the scarred hand up to stroke her hair. ‘See?’
His face softened as his dark eyes dropped from hers to focus on her mouth. He glanced
quickly up again then slipped his free hand to the back of her neck, drawing her
closer. The fragrance of his cologne added to the sensory pleasure of his touch
and the caressing murmur of his voice. She was lost. Her breathing quickened and
a quiver ran through her. She clutched at the lapel of his jacket.
He angled
his head. His lips were about to touch hers when there came the pounding of feet
on the stairs.
