Grace
Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical
romance by night. Grace believes intelligent people need to read romance as an
antidote to the modern world. As an avid reader of historicals she turned to
writing as a release from the emotionally draining side of veterinary work.
Grace
lives near London
Author Links
Website
/ Blog / Newsletter / Facebook
/ Twitter / Amazon Author Page
Hope’s Betrayal
By
Grace Elliot
Historical Romance
November 2012
One
wild, winter's night two worlds collide.
Known
for his ruthless efficiency, Captain George Huntley is sent to stamp out
smuggling on the south coast of England. On a night raid, the Captain captures
a smuggler, but finds his troubles are just beginning when the lad turns out to
be a lass, Hope Tyler.
With
Hope as bait, the Captain sets a trap to catch the rest of the gang. But in a
battle of wills, with his reputation at stake, George Huntley starts to respect
feisty, independent Hope. Challenged by her sea-green eyes and stubborn loyalty
Huntley now faces a new threat - his growing attraction to a sworn enemy. But a
love where either Hope betrays her own kind, or Captain Huntley is
court-marshaled, is not an easy destiny to follow.
Excerpt
Lass Not a Lad.-
Captain Huntley Makes a Discovery About his Prisoner.
Alone with his
prisoner the Captain set to work, his face all harsh angles in the lamplight.
First to stem the bleeding. Working with deft hands, he pulled the bloodstained
scarf from the felon's head. Surprise registered, as he noted the delicate ears
and elegant neck. The boy’s hair gleamed like polished-coal in the lamplight;
tied back in a pony tail, black-as-the-devil’s
heart.
Huntley
reached for a rag to wipe blood from the boy's eyes and cheek. Soft skin
emerged from beneath the clotted mess. The boy was young…a round face with
pointed chin, a tipped nose …and lips, softly parted and provocatively
plump….just ripe for kissing. A flush of heat warmed Huntley's cheeks. What was
he thinking?
Wiping his
sleeve across his eyes he forced himself to continue. He bathed the laceration,
cleaning away sand and blood. Something about this lad had stirred deep
emotions and the captain didn’t like it one little bit. He glanced toward the
door, not wanting to be alone with the smuggler and these strange feelings he
stirred.
“What the
devil's taking that wench so long?”
The fire was
crackling nicely now, steam rising from the lad's clothes. But it wasn’t warm
enough; cold could kill every bit as much as blood loss.
”Hell's teeth,
do I have to do everything myself?”
With rising
irritation, Huntley set to stripping the lad of his wet clothes.
He peeled back
the patched jacket, twice its weight with water, and dropped it to the floor. A
patched and frayed shirt, sticky with blood, clung to the lad’s lean frame.
Huntley tugged the shirt-tail free of the lad’s sodden breeches and off over
his head, with the result that the Captain's pulse raced alarmingly.
“Get a grip,
man.” Huntley muttered.
The lad had
unexpectedly slim shoulders, a silver stiletto strapped to his thin upper arm.
“Naughty.”
Unsheathing
the knife he held the elegant blade toward the firelight; a finely crafted
weapon of silver filigree over an ivory handle— a lady’s weapon, and obviously
expensive.
“Who did you
steal this from, then?”
Placing the
stiletto safely out of reach, he turned back to the table. Stripped of his
shirt, it seemed the lad had broken ribs, for his chest was strapped. The
bindings were soaked and must come off. Shifting the unconscious lad into a
sitting position, balancing him against his shoulder, Huntley unwound the
bandages.
As he lay the
lad back down on the table, Huntley was suddenly struck by the peculiar shadows
playing across the boy’s chest. A flush of blood heated his cheeks. That
explained a lot! Huntley’s mouth dropped
open; he threw back his head and laughed aloud with relief.
“Tis not a
lad….but a lass!"
Alone in the
scullery with a half-naked girl…no, not a girl, for she had the soft curves of
a woman. Huntley took a step back. The sense of relief was overwhelming, that
it was a woman who had excited his body so. He looked around for someone to
share his astonishment, but the maid had not yet returned.
In his
experience women were tiresome, wearisome creatures that sapped the spirit and
drained the mind, but he studied this one with interest. Dark lashes lay
brushed against her cheek, an almost catlike tilt to her closed eyes. Her skin
was clear, fresh, and unblemished. Her face was wide, round even, but with a
pointed chin and a nose turned up at the end. In all he decided, she was
beautiful with the stubbornness of a mule and fragility of a china doll. She
had been a worthy advisory on the dunes; agile, brave and resourceful and it
thrilled him to the core. Lost in thought ,Huntley shrugged off his outer coat
and covered her over, then removed himself to a respectable distance.
Nothing had
changed, he told himself. She was a felon and would pay the penalty demanded by
law. And if Huntley felt uneasy at the prospect he suppressed the emotion, it
was just that he had to get used to the notion of interrogating a woman.
Buy Links
Amazon
US / Amazon
UK / Smashwords
/ Kobo
www.sizzlingpr.com
Thank you so much, for featuring Hope's Betrayal.
ReplyDeleteKind regards,
Grace x