Authors: Amanda Forester
The uncles glanced at each other and sheathed their swords. “Now, we wish to read this accord, boy.”
To some, gaining Alnsworth Castle had cost him dear. Jack agreed to pay Laird Campbell in gold coin to relinquish the castle and promised the resources he marched with, plus one of his estates (one he had never visited and hardly remembered he owned) to his uncles. Yet what he had gained was far greater. Jack rode back into the gates of Alnsworth Castle side by side with the greatest gift of all. His wife.
He stole a glance at the beautiful Gwyn Campbell, with her golden hair flying behind her. She was worth any price. He knew whatever the cost, he had emerged the victor. She glanced at him and their eyes met. She smiled and he returned it.
“Sir John!” Laird Campbell roared.
Jack turned to his right and was surprised to see David riding next to him.
“Have ye been attending to anything I’ve said?” asked David in a growl.
“So sorry, I was…”
“Ye was making moon eyes at my sister.”
“Aye. True. Ye both did well, I grant ye. Ye deserve each other and that’s the truth. Now let us announce our accord and yer marriage in the great hall. They have gone in for the feast already, and they must be concerned to know the outcome of our negotiations.”
They rode through the main gate into the castle grounds—his castle now, Jack noted with a grin. His attention was once again drawn to his lovely wife. Jack dismounted and handed his mount to the waiting stable lads.
“I have a better idea,” said Jack, speaking quietly to David. “Let me have a bit of time with my wife alone before we announce it. I wish to…I wish to…” Now how was he going to phrase it?
“I know what ye wish,” said David in a gruff voice. “She’s my sister and I dinna want to hear anything more about it. Go on. We’ll announce it after the feast.”
Jack spun and helped Gwyn out of her saddle and into his arms. Though his foot pained him, he did not put her down.
“What are ye doing, ye daft man? Put me down. We need to go to the hall and let the clans know we are at peace.”
“David will do it admirably. We would only be in the way,” said Jack, not letting her feet touch the ground. He strolled into the main keep and up a circular staircase.
“Where are we going?” Her tone had grown softer, seductive.
“To finish what we started before we were interrupted.” He hoped she would not be displeased with the plan and was rewarded with a wide grin.
“Ye are full o’ good ideas today,” purred Gwyn.
Jack pushed open the wooden door of the private Campbell solar with the toe of his boot and did not release her until he laid her onto the bed. “No, it is you who have had the good ideas. Thank you, Gwyn. I would be lost without you.”
She smiled a slow, warm smile that flowed through him and heated him to his core. She was his wife. He could not believe his good fortune!
He shut the door quickly and barred it against any other unwanted interruptions. He turned to his beautiful bride. She was truly perfection, with glowing skin, deep green eyes, and luscious flaxen hair.
She smiled at him and patted beside herself on the bed. He was more than ready and strode to her with a quick pace. She opened her mouth and he stopped instantly. She had begun to sing.
To say she was a poor singer would be an understatement. Her voice wobbled, pitched, shrieked, and whined. It was so off-key, it brought tears to his eyes. The picture before him of a beautiful lady with such a horrendous voice was so discordant, it arrested him on the spot. He wished to beg for mercy, but he couldn’t move.
She finished what he could only surmise was supposed to be a song and beamed at him. “Did ye like my singing? Everyone else always runs away. Ye were the first person to listen to the whole song.”
He sat next to her on the bed, hoping his ears weren’t bleeding to give away his true assessment of her skill. “I tell you the truth, I have never heard anything like it.”
Gwyn sighed. “Ye’re being kind. I think I might sing a wee bit off-key at times.”
At times? He wondered what to say and thought of how she had shown his uncles grace and love. “Do you enjoy singing?”
“I love it,” she said shyly.
“Then you must sing more often.” It was the bravest thing he had ever said.
The smile she graced him with was reward enough. At least, he thought so until she made good on the promise with a kiss, a kiss that rocked them both back on the bed and shook him to his core.
“I do love ye,” she whispered.
“I love you too.”
“Ye must love me to listen to me to sing!” exclaimed Gwyn with a giggle.
Jack wrapped an arm around her and drew her closer. “I love you, so I must love all of you.”
Gwyn snuggled closer. “Love must truly be the greatest thing.”
He answered her with a kiss.
Amanda Forester holds a PhD in psychology and worked for many years in academia before discovering that writing historical romance was decidedly more fun. Whether in the rugged Highlands of medieval Scotland or the decadent ballrooms of Regency England, her novels offer fast-paced adventures filled with wit, intrigue, and romance. Amanda lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest. Visit her at
If you love Amanda Forester’s witty, romantic, fast-paced adventures in lush historical settings, you’re in luck.
is third in an exciting trilogy of novellas set in medieval Scotland featuring the Campbell sisters (of the clan featured in Forester’s acclaimed Scottish romance trilogy).
Read them all:
The Highland Bride’s Choice
The Wrong Highland Bridegroom
Better yet, the three sisters find true love with the ancestors of the three heroes featured in the author’s hot new Regency romance series. Read on for samples of
, the tale of ruined debutante
and notorious rogue
Mr. William Grant
, Earl of Thornton, refuses to marry American heiress
for all the right reasons—much to her dismay. And get a special sneak preview of
A Winter Wedding
, Amanda’s third Matchmaker Regency, the story of how
, the notorious Madame X, exclusive matchmaker to London’s elite, finds her toughest client yet in the handsome guise of the
Available now from
London, Spring 1810
Ten minutes into her societal debut, Eugenia Talbot was ruined.
A favorable presentation in court cannot ensure a young lady’s successful launch into society, but a poor presentation can certainly ruin it. Miss Eugenia Talbot pressed her lips together in an attempt to make the laughter gurgling up inside her die in her throat. The Queen of England glared down her royal nose at Genie. Her Royal Highness, Queen Charlotte, was not amused.
Genie took a deep breath—hard to do laced so tight in her stays she feared one wrong move would crack a rib. The restrictive corset held her posture rigid, which helped keep her headdress in place, a heavy jeweled item with a monstrous, white ostrich plume. Genie knelt in a deep curtsy before the queen, a move she had practiced with a special tutor hired by Aunt to ensure her correct performance. A deep curtsy wearing the required elaborate hoop skirt of court that weighed almost two stone needed to be practiced.
Rising majestically from her curtsy, Genie was pleased she had successfully navigated that potential hazard and brought herself under control. Perhaps the Queen had not noticed the stifled giggle. It was hardly Genie’s fault, for when the Lord Chamberlain announced her name, he also let loose an audible bodily noise. Having the unfortunate influence of brothers in her formative years, Genie could not help but find amusement in the Lord Chamberlain’s offense.
“How is your family, Miss Talbot?” asked the queen with staunch politeness.
“They are all well, Your Highness,” responded Genie as coached.
“Are your parents with you in London?”
“No, Your Highness. I am staying with Lady Bremerton, my aunt.” Genie glanced at Aunt Cora, whose frozen countenance betrayed her anxiety over Genie’s presentation.
“And your brothers and sisters?”
“I have four brothers. Two at university, one in the regulars, and one in the Royal Navy.”
“Ah, our sons, they have been ripped from our bosom. Ripped I say.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Genie, pressing her lips together again. She was going to kill her brothers when they returned for teaching her deplorable cant. She could not laugh.
“It is a foul wind that blows from France,” said the queen.
And the Lord Chamberlain chose that moment to blow a little foul wind himself. It was loud, long, and just when Genie thought he had finished, he gave another little toot. She clenched her jaw so tight tears formed in her eyes.
She took a calming breath, sure she had gotten herself under regulation until she spied a man silently laughing, his shoulders shaking, his smile hidden behind his hand. He caught her eye, gave her a broad smile, and winked.
The entire drawing room was silently staring at her with censure. The queen gave her a look that could blister paint. The more Genie tried to get herself under control, the more amusing the entire scene became. It could not be helped; her body started to shake.
Genie tried to take a deep breath and a giggle escaped. She tried to squelch it, but a laugh emerged, followed by an unladylike chortle and an unfortunate snort. The more she tried to stop, the worse it became, and with a burst, Genie was laughing out loud.
The queen waved a hand to dismiss her. Instead of dissipating Genie’s humor, it only made her laugh harder. Genie managed another deep bow and walked backward out of the queen’s presence, giggling as she went. By some miracle, she did not trip on her gown and fall to the floor. It hardly would have mattered if she had.
The Lord Chamberlain and the laughing gentleman had conspired against her. Her debut into society was a disaster. She would surely never be admitted into the
. She was a failure. A social pariah.
Eugenia Talbot was ruined.
People stared as they passed her. Genie never felt more self-conscious, and feared her face was as bright as her skirt. She wanted nothing more than to hide away from the malicious looks and vicious whispers. Unfortunately, wearing courtly attire with feathers that soared at least two feet above her head, she was hardly inconspicuous among the steady throng of people in the outer chambers of the drawing rooms. So she plastered on a fake smile and waited for her aunt to summon her to the coach while the minutes dragged into lifetimes.
“Uncle! I am so glad you are here,” said a youthful voice. A young woman was being escorted into the royal drawing rooms. She struggled forward in a similar, unwieldy hoop skirt, dyed an unfortunate shade of bright pink.
“I could not forget your presentation to court,” said a male voice behind Genie.
“I shall be so much less nervous with you here,” gushed the young girl.
“Trust me,” said the man, “after what I just witnessed, you shall be brilliant by comparison.”
“What happened?” asked the girl, forgetting herself for a moment and cocking her head to one side, forcing her to use both hands to steady the plume of white feathers rising from her head.
“A debutante with a shocking lapse of propriety, who is no doubt being banished to the outer regions of the empire as we speak.”
Genie turned to face her accuser. It was none other than the laughing man.
With a flash of recognition, the man had the decency to look sheepish. He waved the young girl forward into the drawing room and stepped up to Genie. He gave Genie a bow and came up smiling, his blue eyes sparkling. He was a handsome man; there could be no denying his appeal, with sandy blond hair and laughing eyes. His features were pleasing, high cheekbones giving him an impish appearance. His attire was splendid in the required royal-purple silk coat and knee breeches. Unlike others who appeared foppish in the requisite colors of the English royal court, the man before her commanded his style. It was not every gentleman who could wear purple silk britches with confidence.
“Please forgive me if I have offended you,” said the man, with a disarming smile.
“Forgive you? Why, there is nothing to forgive. You only spoke the truth, did you not?” Genie presented the man with a smile, the kind she kept on a shelf to feign good humor when she had none to give.
“Not at all. Merely trying to encourage my niece—timid thing, needs encouragement. Do what I can to make her feel at ease.”
“You are charity itself.”
“No, no I…” The man paused and gave her a guilty grin. “I’m not going to redeem myself from my careless words, am I?”
“I can forgive your words. You are no doubt correct that my aunt is at this moment trying to find a penal colony for me at the greatest distance from London. What I cannot forgive is your shocking wink that caused this trouble.”
“Surely this affair is not my fault! It is my Lord Chamberlain who embarrassed himself beyond redemption.”
“If you had not laughed, I would have been able to calm myself.”
“How could I not be amused? Honestly, I do hope the poor man survives the night.”
“But no one caught you laughing,” said Genie, getting at the heart of the injustice. “They were only looking at me.”
“Naturally they were looking at you. Between the two of us there can be no comparison.” The man’s easy smile turned flirtatious, but Genie was accustomed to flattery regarding her appearance and considered herself immune to its charms. The magnitude of her failure weighed down her shoulders. She wished she could tear off the heavy headpiece, but she had brought upon herself enough scandal for one day—all thanks to the man before her.
“I do wish I had never seen you,” said Genie in uncharacteristically clipped tones. “And since you are no doubt correct that my aunt is even now booking my passage to the Americas or Botany Bay, I will take comfort in the fact that I will never see you again. Good day, sir!”
With fortuitous timing, Genie was called to join her aunt, and she practically flew into the coach on the plumes of her own headdress. Unfortunately, her sweeping exit was hindered by the logistics of maneuvering three hoop skirts belonging to herself, her aunt, and her cousin, which was done with such haste Genie feared her gown would be sadly crushed. Her aunt demanded the curtains be drawn, as if the mere sight of Eugenia Talbot was so offensive the whole of London must be protected.
“Disaster! Oh, how could you do this to me?” Lady Bremerton lay back on the plush squabs of the town coach as it jolted forward, her hand on her forehead for dramatic flair. “I should have known you needed more training, more tutelage. After all, your father’s family can have no concept of what is expected in higher society let alone what is proper in court.”
Genie swallowed down a retort. She had intended to prove she was every bit as polished as the other debutantes. Acting the hoyden before the queen proved otherwise.
“I am sorry Aunt Cora,” said Genie, her contrition a tight knot in her chest. “Sorry Cousin Louisa.” Louisa’s eyes were sympathetic, but her aunt would give no quarter.
“Sorry will not do you any good, nor will speaking to a known rake,” chastised her aunt.
“A known rake?”
“Mr. Grant. I saw you speaking with him. He will do you no good.”
“I know that is true,” said Genie with a flush.
“Oh, what is to be done? You are ruined, ruined for sure. My reputation is in tatters. There is nothing else for it; you must be married. And quick!”