The dark winds of change, however, are flowing around Malcolm and Mary.
Scotland is drawn inexorably into the battle between the Jacobites and the armies sent by the English government to crush the rebellion. Follow Keep in contact through the following social networks or via RSS feed:.
Upon returning to England, Chance is disillusioned, disfigured, and emotionally scarred, but his love for Ivy remains is strong.
The Duke's Stolen Bride: The Rogue Files by Sophie Jordan, Paperback | Barnes & Noble®
As he battles his own inner demons, he must convince Ivy to risk loving him again. This friends to lovers Regency historical by a USA Today bestselling author will make you smile, cry, and sigh as you cheer Chance and Ivy on to their happily-ever-after.
Though this book can easily be read as a stand-alone, most readers prefer to read the series in order. Click HERE for the audio version! It had humor and sacrifice. Ivonne Wimpleton whipped her gaze to Captain Melvin Kirkpatrick. Groaning in frustration, she snapped her fan closed, prepared to use the frilly accessory to give him a good poke or two, if necessary. Somehow, the bore had finagled an invitation to accompany another guest. She shot to her feet, searching for a means to avoid him.
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The only possibility lay in the narrow stairway descending to the manicured garden where an occasional colored lantern glowed. Ivonne strode toward her salvation at a near run. Captain Kirkpatrick caught her arm and pinned her against the balustrade with his great weight. Her fan fell, clattering to the flagstone. He shook his head. Excitement glimmered in his glassy eyes. As she struggled, her hair pins came loose and scattered onto the stones.
He pawed her breast with one beefy hand as his other gripped her head in an attempt to steal a kiss. His foul breath assailed Ivonne, sending her stomach pitching at the stench of strong spirits and onions.
Intent on screaming like a banshee, she opened her mouth and sucked in a huge breath. A chortling foursome of gentlemen burst through the French windows onto the other side of the terrace. Panting heavily, his bushy red eyebrows scrunched together, he released her and scowled at her brother, Allen, Lords Sethwick and Luxmoore, and the Duke of Harcourt. They would come to her aid and not breathe a word of the untoward situation. Her brother had warned the widower away from her once already.
If he suspected the captain dared lay a hand on her, Allen would call him out. A dab hand at pistols—all firearms, for that matter—Captain Kirkpatrick might wound, or, heaven forbid, kill dear Allen. She shuddered.
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It must not come to that. She peeked at the captain from beneath her lashes. More than a trifle disguised, his drunken focus remained on the other men. Ivonne seized the moment. Without hesitation, she kneed him in the ballocks with her good leg and gave him a mighty shove. Ignoring his gasps of pain and vile curses, she edged away. With one eye on the laughing quartet, she crept down the stairs.
Once out of their view, she flew across the lawn as rapidly as her injured leg would allow. The leg pained her on occasion, and she endured a permanent, though slight, limp made worse by overexertion. She darted behind a tall rose-covered trellis. Breathing labored and leg throbbing, she halted just inside the alcove and gave the skirt a gentle tug.
A jolt of fright raised the hairs on her arms and stole her breath.