“You’ve changed the ending!” Simon sounded outraged.
Well, she didn’t care. “Yes, it’s much better now that Angelica marries the Serpent Prince instead. I never did like that Rutherford.”
“But, angel,” he protested. “She’d chopped off his head. I don’t see how he could recover from that.”
“Silly.” She pulled his face down to hers. “Don’t you know true love heals all?”
He paused just before their lips met, his eyes a silvery gray misted with tears. “It does, you know, your love for me.”
“Our love.”
“I feel whole when I’m with you. I didn’t think that was possible after Ethan and Christian and . . . everything. But you swept into my life and redeemed me, ransomed my very soul from the devil.”
“You’re being blasphemous again,” she whispered as she stood on tiptoe to reach his mouth.
“No, but really—”
“Hush. Kiss me.”
And he did.
About the Author
Elizabeth Hoyt was born in New Orleans, where her mother’s family has lived for generations, but she was raised in the frigid winters of St. Paul, Minnesota. Growing up, her family traveled extensively in Britain, spending a summer in St. Andrews, Scotland, and a year in Oxford. She earned a bachelor of arts degree in anthropology at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. Wisconsin was also where she met her archaeologist husband—on a dig in a cornfield. Continuing the cornfield theme, Elizabeth and her husband live in central Illinois with their two children and three dogs. She is an avid gardener with over twenty-six varieties of daylilies in her multiple gardens and more hostas than any one person can count. The Hoyt family enjoys taking family vacations that invariably end up at an archaeological site.
Elizabeth loves to hear from her readers. You may e-mail her at:
[email protected] or mail her at: PO Box 17134, Urbana, Illinois 61803. Please visit her Web site at elizabethhoyt.com for contests, book excerpts, and author updates.
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Sue Ellen Welfonder
Dear Reader,
Anyone familiar with my books knows I enjoy weaving Highland magic into my stories. Scotland is rich in myth, legend, and lore, and it can be difficult to decide on the ideal tradition to use. Sometimes the choice comes easy, the answer appearing out of nowhere, almost as if by magic.
This is the fairy dust that gives writers those amazing ah-ha moments and makes the process so wondrous. Also called serendipity, this phenomena is something I definitely believe in and have seen happen time and again.It happened to me most recently in Scotland, during the writing of BRIDE FOR A KNIGHT (available now). This book’s hero, Jamie Macpherson, is a special character, larger-than-life, full of charm, and deserving more than his lot in life. I wanted to help him find happiness.
To do that, I needed something unique—a talisman—that would mean everything to Jamie. Something significant and life changing. But nothing felt right until I visited Crathes Castle and saw the Horn of Leys proudly displayed in the great hall. A medieval drinking horn of ivory and embedded with jewels, this treasure was presented to the Burnett family in 1323 by none other than Robert the Bruce.
When I saw the horn and learned its history, I knew Jamie would be well served if I included a Horn of Days in his story. As for serendipity, I hadn’t planned on visiting Crathes. I didn’t have a car that day and getting there meant walking six miles each way. So I walked. Something just compelled me to go there. I believe that something was Highland magic.
I hope you will enjoy watching Jamie discover the powerful magic of love and forgiveness. Readers wishing a peek at his world, might enjoy visiting my Web site at www.welfonder.com to see photos of Crathes Castle and even its famed Horn of Leys.
With all good wishes,
From the desk of Elizabeth Hoyt
Gentle Reader,
Whilst perusing my notes for THE SERPENT PRINCE (available now), I noticed this preliminary interview I made with the hero, Simon Iddesleigh, Viscount Iddesleigh. I present it here in the hope that it may amuse you.
Interview with the Rakehell
Lord Iddesleigh sits at his ease in my study. He wears a pristine white wig, a sapphire velvet coat, and yards of lace at wrist and throat. His right leg is flung over the arm of the chair in which he lounges, and his foot—shod in a large red-heeled shoe—swings idly. His ice-gray eyes are narrowed in faint amusement as he watches me arrange my notes.
Q: My lord, you have been described as a rakehell without any redeeming qualities. How do you answer such an accusation?
Simon: It’s always so hard to reply to compliments of this kind. One finds oneself stammering and overcome with pretty blushes.
Q: You do not deny your rakehell tendencies?
Simon: Deny? No, madam, rather I embrace them. The company of beautiful, yet wholly unchaste ladies, the exchange of fortunes at the gambling tables, the late night hours, and even later break-fasts. Tell me, what gentleman would not enjoy such a life?
Q: And the rumors that you’ve killed two men in separate duels?
Simon: (stops swinging his foot for a second, then continues, looking me frankly in the eye) I would not put too much stock in rumors.
Q: But—
Simon: (admiring the lace at his wrist) Is that all?
Q: I did want to ask you about love.
Simon: (sounding uncommonly bored) Rakehells do not fall in love.
Q: Never?
Simon: Never.
Q: But—
Simon: (now sounding horribly kind) Madam, I tell you there is no percentage in it. In order for a rakehell to be foolish enough as to fall in love, he’d have to find a woman so extraordinarily intelligent, witty, charming, and beautiful that he would for-sake all other women—and more importantly their favors—for her. What are the odds, I ask you?
Q: But say a rakehell did fall in love—
Simon: (heaving an exasperated sigh) I have told you it is impossible. But if a rakehell did fall in love . . .
Q: Yes?
Simon: It would make a very interesting story.
Yours Most Sincerely,
www.elizabethhoyt.com
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