Great & Unfortunate Desires
by Gina Danna
Blurb:
Victorian England c. 1870
Operating as a
British spy, Tristan St.James, the new Marquis of Wrenworth, barely escapes
Afghanistan with his life in the spring of 1869. He plans to seek vengeance
against the traitor who exposed him and for the agent he’s forced to kill.
Returning to England, as a lord, he must marry. Haunted by guilt from the
horrors of war, he avoids love at all costs, but finds himself drawn to the
only woman who is disinterested in him.
Lady Evelyn Hurstine
has waited over two years for the return of her love, a man who left for war in
the East. But during that time, she suffered a brutal assault, resulting in a
child and fear of any man touching her except for the man she once knew. The
pursuit by the marquis scares her but her excuses against his proposal dwindle.
Their marriage
strengthens into love until she discovers her husband isn’t the safety she
believed but the one who killed the man she once loved. Caught in a world of
intrigue and mayhem, Tristan must prove his love to her before the traitor
destroys them both.
Excerpt:
Evelyn placed her mallet near the ball, ready to
strike, when two sturdy male arms belonging to Andrew Huntington surrounded
her. The viscount of Duke Huntington’s estate grasped her hands, adjusting the
position of one of them.
“Take the handle like this,” he said loud enough
for all to hear.
She froze in his arms. For a second, she shut her
eyes, willing herself to relax. She’d known Andrew for most of their lives
because their fathers were close friends. But the feel of his chest against her
back, his arms and hands making direct contact, nearly sent her into a
hysterical frenzy. Visions of another embrace flashed through her mind, and it
took all her effort to ignore the past and remain in the present. Andrew wasn’t
her enemy. But when his hands guided her own in swinging the mallet, it was
difficult to remember that.
“And swing like this,” he continued, propelling
her mallet. The strike against the wooden ball, sending it through the next set
of arches successfully, resulted in a polite round of applause from those
nearby. “Marvelous,” he congratulated her, and released his hold.
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, a meager smile
on her lips.
Andrew returned it with a smile of his own. He
wasn’t a bad looking gent, she decided. Tall and lean, the viscount equaled her
age of twenty and was not ready to truly court any lady, but it wouldn’t be
long in coming. No doubt his father had hosted this event to introduce the
young man to society and its conventions. But ice flowed through her veins at
the prospect of being on the viscount’s list of possible brides. Not when even
his friendly attempt to assist her game frightened her so. Granted, she hadn’t
asked for his aid, but gentlemen sometimes assumed chaperoned events like this
called for such chivalry.
But how would she find a suitable husband if she
abhorred any man’s touch? She hoped she’d recovered from that night more than
two years ago, but the longer she was in London, the more her nerves frayed.
Her head throbbed. Marry or be married. Which was worse? Wed a man she chose or
one her father did–both prospects made her ill.
Where was Richard? Why had he abandoned her? The
thoughts whirled in her head, just as they always did when she allowed herself
to think of him. Richard Reynard, son of the Earl of Brenwood, had been her
friend and her intended for what seemed like years, but, in reality, it was
only six months. They’d gotten along famously, or so it appeared. He was the
second son and went into Her Majesty’s army, his first station being overseas.
It was two years ago when he left. Before then, he’d asked her to wait for him.
They’d marry when he returned. She remembered the words and his smile.
Her sister’s beau invited her for ices, to get
Evelyn’s mind off Richard’s departure. That never happened.
Hell did.
The sound of fabric ripping carried across the
breeze, reminding Evelyn of that night when her clothing was rent from her. Her
heart skipped a beat before she saw a man near the refreshment table whose heel
appeared to have caught on the linen tablecloth, tearing it. Despite having
seen the source of the sound, she shuddered. However, Andrew was unaware of her
reaction because he was laughing about something with Sarah and several others.
Evelyn struggled to calm her nerves. This was not the time to dissolve into one
of her tearful fits.
Stilling herself took so much effort she wasn’t
sure how she’d survive the afternoon. That memory, of her dress being torn off,
of being held against her will, flooded her mind. Suddenly that moment hit
home, and Evelyn realized she needed a protector, one who would never leave
her. Who’d keep her and Mary from harm. Their survival depended on it. Sarah
was right. For herself and Mary’s sake, Evelyn needed a husband.
She had no idea why everyone was so merry, but
Andrew’s eyes were locked on Sarah’s, and that made Evelyn happy. Her friend
was exactly the right type for Andrew—and for most of the gentlemen present.
Young, innocent, mannerly and pretty, Sarah would do well in any home of the ton.
Laughing hard, Sarah bent forward, her free hand
grasping her corseted waist as she leaned on her mallet. “Oh, Evie, did you see
that? What a truly crooked strike!”
Evelyn noticed the ball several feet off the
playing field. She smiled. The nicely trimmed lawn hid the small divots that
cradled the ball, a hidden aid that kept it from rolling too far away.
Andrew walked over behind Evelyn, his arms
reaching around her again. “Let us see if fair Lady Evelyn can do better. Now
take the mallet…”
Evelyn ceased to hear him the moment his body
brushed hers. This is only Andrew! But the roaring in her ears
threatened to deafen the voice of reason. She tried to concentrate on where his
hands were directing her to hit the ball. She relaxed some but struggled to
loosen her limbs.
“Pardon me, sir, I believe the lady is with me.”
The rich male voice interrupted their game. It
startled Evelyn but quickly warmed her. She recognized the voice. Tristan. Her
Adonis. Her stomach fluttered, as if she’d swallowed a hundred butterflies. It
appeared he had surprised Andrew too. His body tensed as he stepped away from
her.
“I’m sorry, Lord Wrenworth, I did not think she
needed a chaperone today,” Huntington stated flatly, his tone guarded and
unfriendly.
“Hardly. I am her fiancée.” The man’s voice hard,
a challenge underlining his statement.
Evelyn’s
breath caught in her throat.
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About the Author:
A USAToday Bestselling author, Gina Danna was
born in St. Louis, Missouri, and has spent the better part of her life reading.
History has always been her love and she spent numerous hours devouring
historical romance stories, always dreaming of writing one of her own. After
years of writing historical academic papers to achieve her undergraduate and
graduate degrees in History, and then for museum programs and exhibits, she has
found the time to write her own historical romantic fiction novels.
Now, under the supervision of her three dogs and three cats, she writes amid a library of research books, with her only true break away is to spend time with her other life long dream —her Arabian horse—With him, her muse can play.
Social media:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/
Twitter: @GinaDanna1
Web: www.ginadanna.com
Now, under the supervision of her three dogs and three cats, she writes amid a library of research books, with her only true break away is to spend time with her other life long dream —her Arabian horse—With him, her muse can play.
Social media:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/
Twitter: @GinaDanna1
Web: www.ginadanna.com
