Man of My Dreams

  “I don’t!”

  “Then let’s discuss your ‘interested.’ I would have been very interested if you had ever got around to telling me you loved me, so if you intended to, why didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “You didn’t! I bloody well would have remembered hearing that if I’d heard it.”

  “You heard it, you wretch, last night in your bed. Don’t try and tell me—”

  “Megan,” he cut in, striving for some patience, if even a minuscule amount. “I went to bed with a bottle last night, not you.”

  That gave her pause. “You really don’t remember my coming into your room?”

  “No. Did you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then would you mind repeating what it was you told me that I didn’t hear?”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his soft tone. “No, I don’t think I will.”

  He swore a blue streak, striding about, kicking up more hay as he did. When he happened to notice his wife, it was to catch her wide-eyed look of feigned amazement. He stopped suddenly and burst out laughing.

  “God, I love it when you provoke me, brat. It sets my blood on fire.”

  Her eyes got a little wider, especially since he’d started removing his jacket as he said it. “Does it?”

  “Don’t play the innocent. You do it deliberately, don’t you?”

  “Certainly not—Devlin, what are you doing?”

  The white lawn shirt came off and was dropped to the floor. “What does it look like?”

  She took a step back, though her eyes were caressing every inch of skin he was baring for her. “It’s the middle of the day!” she protested.

  “So?”

  “So you can’t mean to—”

  “Can’t I? I thought you wanted the duke on the shelf.”

  “I did, but—but—” She ended with a shriek as she went over backwards into the straw, her damn train tripping her up when she’d taken another step back.

  “Falling at my feet again?” Devlin grinned. “I like that.”

  Megan shrieked and tried to get up, but he was there, on top of her, before she could. Then she was rolling about, making every effort to stop his fingers from stripping her own clothes off, along with the rest of his. Finally she was laughing, having failed utterly, and no longer able to contain her delight in getting the old Devlin back.

  “We made love in my stable,” she said, tantalizingly streaking her nails down his back and buttocks to feel his body arch into hers. “I guess it’s only fair we try it in yours.”

  “Fair has nothing to do with it,” he replied, his voice rough in his passion.

  She sighed. “I love it when you put the duke on the shelf.”

  “What else do you love?”

  “You,” she gasped as his mouth fastened on her nipple and tugged gently. “Do you think you might ever love me back?”

  His head rose to give her a dazzling smile. “What makes you think I don’t?”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “I hate you!”

  “No, you don’t. You love me.”

  “And?”

  “I’m still thinking about it.”

  She grinned, then chuckled. “You’re a wretched tease, Devlin St. James. Are you going to make me say it for you?”

  “No.” He dipped down to graze her lips once, twice, then gave her a soul-stirring kiss before adding, “Knowing you, you’d say it all wrong.”

  “I’d simply say, I love you.”

  “But I’d say, I love you—brat.”

  Three weeks later they accompanied Megan’s father home, because Devlin claimed to have business in the area, and claimed he wasn’t about to be parted from Megan for more than a few days, so she had to come along. But he timed it so they arrived on Sunday morning, and when she realized his ducal coach was stopping in front of her parish church, Megan started to cry.

  “This wasn’t necessary,” she said, throwing her arms around her husband’s neck and squeezing tight.

  “I know.”

  “You’ve already given me too much.”

  “Nothing can compare with what you’ve given me—your love. And I’m going to spoil you every bit as much as your father ever did. More, I don’t doubt.”

  She leaned back to give him a watery smile that released both dimples and had the same effect on him that her smiles always did. “Can I spoil you as well?”

  Devlin groaned. “You already do. Now let’s go set your Lady O on her ear.”

  Someone had told him the tale, obviously. Megan looked out the window to see the stout figure of Ophelia Thackeray and all three of her daughters—and Frederick Richardson—and Tiffany and Tyler. Devlin had planned this well—for her.

  “I can’t do it. It’s mean and spiteful, petty—brattish.” She glanced back at Devlin. “I can see you went to a lot of trouble, but it just doesn’t matter anymore. You’re all that matters, Dev.”

  He put his hand to her cheek. “It was Tiffany’s idea, my dear, a belated wedding gift.”

  “Oh.” She grinned brilliantly at that point. “In that case, it’d be churlish of me not to do it, wouldn’t it?”

  The Duke of Wrothston burst out laughing. “Absolutely, brat.”

  Enter the World of Johanna Lindsey

  Welcome to the world of Johanna Lindsey, and enter into a fantasy of your choosing. Immerse yourself deep into times when men were warriors, tamed only by very special women, and romance reigned supreme. Whether it is against the backdrop of glamorous Regency England society, the pageantry of a medieval court, the wild wilderness of the American West, or any other you can imagine, Johanna Lindsey knows how to make a love story come alive. Enjoy!

  Captive Bride

  Johanna Lindsey touched deep into the soul of her readers with her first romance. The world realized a new star was born with this tale of an arrogant Arab prince cut down to size by a strong-minded English miss.

  Philip Caxton saw Christina as soon as she entered the room. She turned away with contempt when she saw him. Well, he didn’t expect an easy conquest. She had seemed to hate him last night.

  He sighed, cursing the lack of time. But perhaps Christina Wakefield was just playing hard to get. After all, young women came to London to look for husbands. And he wasn’t such a bad catch. But still, with only one day’s acquaintance, the odds were against him. Damn, why hadn’t he met her sooner?

  Anne Shadwell drew Christina toward Philip. “Miss Wakefield, I would like to introduce—”

  She was cut off abruptly.

  “We’ve met,” Christina said contemptuously.

  Anne Shadwell looked startled, but Philip made an arrogantly graceful bow, took Christina’s arm firmly, and walked her out onto the balcony. She resisted, but he was sure she wouldn’t cause a scene.

  When they reached the railing, she whirled to face him defiantly.

  “Really, Mr. Caxton! I thought I made myself quite clear last night, but since you don’t seem to understand, let me enlighten you. I don’t like you. You are a rude, conceited man, and I find you quite intolerable. Now if you will excuse me, I am going back to join my brother.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.

  “Christina, wait,” he demanded huskily, forcing her to look into his dark eyes.

  “I really don’t think we have anything to say to each other, Mr. Caxton. And please refrain from using my first name.” She turned to leave again, but Philip still grasped her hand in his. She faced him once more, stamping her foot in fury.

  “Let go of my hand!” she demanded.

  “Not until you’ve heard what I have to say, Tina,” he answered, pulling her closer to him.

  “Tina!” She glared at him. “How dare—”

  “I dare anything I damn well please. Now shut up and listen to me.” He was amused at the disbelief written on her lovely face. “Tina, I want you. I would be honored if you would consent to b
e my wife. I would give you anything you want—jewels, beautiful gowns, my estates.”

  She was looking at him in a most unusual way. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. And then he felt the sting of her hand across his cheek.

  “I have never been so insulted in my—”

  But Philip didn’t let her finish. He gathered her in his arms and silenced her words with a deep, penetrating kiss. He held her tightly against him, feeling her breasts pressed against his chest, crushing the breath from her body. She was struggling to free herself, but her efforts only increased his desire.

  Then, unexpectedly, Christina went limp in his arms and threw him off guard. Philip thought she had fainted but winced when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. He released her instantly to grab his leg, and when he looked up, Christina was running into the drawing room.

  He should have known better, Philip told himself.

  He should have gone to her home in Halstead and courted her slowly. But that wasn’t his way. Besides, he had never courted a woman before. He was used to getting what he wanted immediately, and he wanted Christina.

  A Gentle Feuding

  Sheena Fergusson is the most prized beauty in Scotland. Every man wants to possess her—except for Jamie MacKinnion, the avowed enemy of her clan. But when the proud laird finally lays eyes on Sheena, his warrior’s heart is conquered by the ethereal magnificence of this woman.

  James MacKinnion moved slowly. An enveloping mist still clung to the dewy ground, and he was sopping wet from crossing the second of the two Esk rivers. He was tired from lack of sleep and the rough ride south. There was something wrong in all this, but he didn’t know what it could be.

  The mist swirled and parted before him in a gentle breeze, revealing for a moment a wooded glen not far ahead. Then the mist settled again, and the vision was gone. Jamie rode for it; the trees were a pleasant change from the barren moors and heather-clad hills.

  He had never been this far east on Fergusson land before. He had never raided Lowlanders in the spring before, either.

  Jamie’s anger warred with his common sense. Dead men demanded he ride to avenge them. A scrap of plaid demanded he ride south. Yet…why? He would have given anything for more evidence. The act bordered on insanity. Was he sure of what he was doing?

  The mist was rising steadily as Jamie entered the wooden glen.

  Then he heard a sound, and in a flash he slid off his horse and ran for cover. But when he listened again, he recognized the sound as a giggle, a feminine giggle.

  Leaving his horse behind, he moved stealthily through the bracken and trees toward the sound.

  When Jamie saw her, he wasn’t quite sure he believed the vision. A young girl was standing waist-deep in a small pool, the mist swirling about her head. She looked like a water sprite, a kelpie, unreal, yet real enough.

  The girl laughed again as she splashed water across her naked breasts. The sound enchanted Jamie. He was mesmerized by the girl, rooted where he was, watching her play. She was frolicking and having a joyous time of it.

  She was like nothing he had ever seen before, a beauty, and no mistake about it. In a moment she faced him, and he saw nearly all of her loveliness. Pearly white skin contrasted starkly with brilliant, deep red hair. Almost magenta, it was so dark and gleaming and long. Two strands waved around her breasts and floated in the water. And those breasts were tantalizing, round, high and proud in youthful glory, the peaks sharply pointed because of the caress of icy water. Her features were unmistakably delicate. The only thing not clear to Jamie was the color of her eyes. He was not quite close enough to see, and the reflection of the water made them appear a blue so clear and bright as to be glowing quite impossibly. Was his imagination running wild? He wanted to move closer and see.

  What he really wanted was to join her in the water. It was an insane idea, born of the strange effect she was having on him. What if she let him come to her, let him touch her as he ached to do? He had to leave before common sense completely fled. As if to point out his folly in tarrying, the first rays of sun broke through the glen, showing him the time he had wasted. His brother and the others would have all returned to the men by the river. They would all be waiting for him.

  Jamie was suddenly sickened. Watching the girl, being transported to what seemed a sphere outside reality, he was appalled by the contrast between the lovely scene before him and the bloody one he would see in just a short while. Yet he could no more stop the one that was soon to happen than he could forget the one he was watching. Both seemed inevitable.

  Jamie’s last look at the girl was a wistful one. Beams of sunlight dotted the pool, and one touched the girl and lit her hair like a burst of flame. With a sigh, he turned away. That last vision of the mystical girl would be etched in his memory for a long time to come.

  Love Only Once

  With Love Only Once, Johanna Lindsey introduced her beloved Malory family. The romances of these outrageous and outspoken sensualists, set in the ever-popular Regency era, are pure magic. Nicholas Eden, the rakish fourth Viscount of Montieth, is as enchanted as readers during this first encounter with Regina Ashton. Having just discovered that he has accidentally kidnapped the Malory ingenue, he is now setting her free. But if he is expecting anger from his unintended hostage, he’s in for a surprise.

  She stood framed by the window, gazing at him in a startling direct way. There was no shyness in her look and no fear either on that exquisite, delicate, heart-shaped face. The eyes were disturbing, with an exotic slant. Such dark blue eyes in that fair face, so blue and clear, like colored crystal. The lips were soft and full and the nose was straight and slender. A thick fringe of sooty lashes framed those extraordinary eyes, while black brows arched gently above them. Her hair was raven black, too, in tight little ringlets surrounding her face, giving her fair skin a glow like polished ivory.

  She was breathtaking. The beauty didn’t stop with her face, either. She was petite, yes, but there was nothing childlike about her form. Firm young breasts pressed against the thin muslin of her rose gown. He wanted to pull the rose muslin down a few inches and watch those lovely breasts spring free. He received another jolt then, feeling his manhood rise against his will. Lord, he hadn’t lost control like that since his youth!

  Desperate to bring everything under control, he cast about for something—anything—to say. “Hello.”

  His tone implied “What have we here?” And Reggie grinned despite herself. He was gorgeous, simply gorgeous. It wasn’t just his face, though that was striking. There was a sexual magnetism about him that was quite unnerving.

  “Hello, yourself,” Reggie said impishly. “I was beginning to wonder when you would realize your mistake. You certainly took enough time about it.”

  “I am just now wondering if I have in fact made a mistake at all. You don’t look like a mistake. You look very much like something I did right for a change.”

  He quietly closed the door and leaned back against it, those beautiful amber eyes boldly moving over her from head to foot. It was not at all safe for a young lady to be alone with a man of his stamp, and Reggie recognized that. Yet for some reason he couldn’t fathom, she wasn’t afraid of this man. Scandalously, she wondered if it would be such a terrible thing to lose her virtue to him. Oh, it was a reckless mood she was suddenly in!

  She eyed the closed door and his large frame blocking that only exit. “Fie on you, sir. I hope you don’t mean to compromise me more than you already have.”

  “I will if you will let me. Will you? Think carefully before you answer,” he said with a devastating smile. “My heart is in jeopardy.”

  She giggled, delighted. “Stuff! Rakes like you don’t have hearts. Everyone knows that.”

  Nicholas was enchanted.

  Hearts Aflame

  Kristen Haardrad has been imprisoned by the Saxon warlord Royce when her shipmates dared to attack Royce’s lands. The Viking maiden has been searching for a man who coul
d stir her senses and make her blood sing, and now she’s finally found him in Royce. So with the full force of her Viking determination she sets out to win the heart and love of her captor.

  Kristen had been stretching when she heard the steps crossing the floor, coming from the entrance. She jumped up curiously, her heartbeat quickening when she saw Royce coming out of the shadows, his direction not the stairs, but toward her, straight to her.

  She did not move, waiting for him to reach her. His expression was intense, harsh, and her heart beat even faster, not in fear but in expectation. When he stopped, she felt only a moment’s surprise when his hand went to the back of her neck, his fingers gripping her hair to yank her head back. She held her breath as his eyes moved angrily over her face.

  “Why do you tempt me so?” He asked this not of her but to himself.

  “Do I, milord?”

  “You do it apurpose,” he hissed before his mouth slashed down over hers.

  Kristen had waited for this, to know the feel of lips, to be able to touch him. She had wanted this to happen, but she had not guessed how devastating the actuality would be. Nothing could have prepared her for such a violent jolt of desire, when she had never felt desire before.

  His mouth moved over hers brutally in his anger. He gripped her hair, holding her still for this ravishment, yet he did not touch her otherwise. Kristen was the one to lean into him, until she could feel the full length of his body and knew the extent of his desire. This inflamed her more. She didn’t care that this was not what he wanted, that he was kissing her against his own will and probably hating her more because of it. She wrapped her arms around his back, moving her hands up over the hard muscle there until she gripped his shoulders, holding him tight to her.

  She heard him groan at her complete acceptance of him, and his other arm slipped about her waist, crushing her tighter to him. His tongue plunged into her mouth and she drew on it, capturing it like a prize, refusing to let go. God in heaven, this was wonderful, more thrilling than anything she had ever felt before. She would have let him take her there, in the hall, on the table, the floor—she didn’t care. She wanted to make love with him now, before he came to his senses and stopped.