When not escaping to another world via reading or writing a book, she spends her time chasing two young boys around the house, being hunted by wild animals, or sitting on the swing in the backyard where she has to use her arms as shields to deflect projectiles AKA: balls, water balloons, sticks, pinecones, and anything else one of them picks up to hurl at his brother who just happens to be hiding behind her.
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Her Reluctant Groom Series, Book 2
Marcus Sinclair, sixteenth Earl of Sinclair, has lived the last thirteen years as a recluse following an accident that left him heavily scarred. Though a recluse, Marcus has still managed to fall in love. The problem? The woman he’s taken with is none other than the sister of the lady he was once betrothed to!Emma Green has fancied herself in love with Marcus since she was barely out of leading strings and he taught her how to fish. Neither her sister's engagement to him, nor the accident that left him disfigured has altered those feelings. But that matters naught. Why would he ever be interested in the younger sister of the lady who ruined his life?
Emma hadn’t
paid much attention to where Marcus had gotten the book he’d shown her, but
she’d been paying attention when he put it back. She was seven-and-twenty, well
past the blushing debutante age, and she was curious. So why not satisfy her
curiosity? She knew if anyone, especially Marcus, were to ever know what she
was doing; they’d be shocked to the core. But nobody would find out. She’d just
flip through the book to see the pictures, then put it back.
She took
her first tentative step and winced. Her leg hurt. Badly. She widened her
stance and took another step, taking care not to let her legs rub together as
she padded over to the box he’d put that naughty book in, then frowned. He’d
locked it! Her eyes quickly scanned the shelves and the vanity for the key. She
didn’t see it anywhere. She sighed and reached up to her hair. She’d used a
hairpin to pick a lock before; she just have to do it again. Pulling out a pin
from the top so as not to compromise her entire coiffure, she bent the pin to
make it straight and jabbed the end into the keyhole. She jiggled the pin for a
second and smiled when the click of the lock broke the silence.
For good measure, she threw a glance over her shoulder before opening
the lid. “Lady
Bird’s Ladybird Memoir,” she read aloud. She hadn’t caught the
title earlier. The shock over Marcus even owning a book with naked pictures was
too much for her to care about such a trivial matter as that. Then Emma knit
her brows. There wasn’t a single mention of a LadyBirdin all of Debrett’s. And she’d know—she’d memorized the entire dratted thing, after all.
Not to mention the fact that she’d spent countless Seasons in London without
ever encountering a single mention of such a person. Who was this Lady Bird?
No matter.
She carried her treasure back to the bed. Careful to climb in so she wouldn’t
bump that extremely painful cut on her leg; she adjusted the covers and ran her
fingers over the lettering on the front. Nervous excitement raced through her.
Taking a breath, she opened the cover and used the tip of her index finger to
flip past the first few pages. She got to the table of contents page and
blinked. “’Chapter One, The Differences Between a Lord and Lady’. I’d sure hope
she’d know the difference,” Emma muttered, dropping her eyes down to the title
for Chapter Four. “Hmm, ‘A Man Versus a “Gentle”man’. Interesting.”
Impatiently,
she flipped the page to chapter one and thought her eyes might pop out as she
started reading. The author of this book had written real stories about her
lovers, using enough hints for just about anyone to recognize who she was
talking about.
Emma
devoured the first page, and then the second, followed by the third and fourth.
Before she knew it, she was sprawled out face-down on the bed, face flushed,
heart racing, nearing the end of the fifth chapter. When she’d first started,
she’d occasionally glanced at the clock that hung just above Marcus’ vanity to
make sure it wasn’t nearing dinner and she wasn’t about to be interrupted. Now
she was too enthralled to care.
Taking a
quick break, she put her finger in the book to mark her page and flipped
through the rest to see how much further she had. She sighed. There was too
much there to read in an hour’s time. She’d have to get as far as she could
today and sneak it back out again later.
Keeping her
place marked, she went to that page Marcus had shown her earlier. The night
Gregory had decided to show up naked in her bed was not the first time she’d
seen him naked. Thankfully, it was the last. As a double reason to rejoice, she
hadn’t actually seen that specific part of him that night. It was either
covered by the sheets or his hands after she kneed him. However, she hadn’t
been so lucky a few months back when his robe “accidentally” came untied just
as he entered her room to ask if she’d like him to stoke the fire. She cringed.
For years she’d had to endure his subtle hints and uncomfortable innuendo. It
wasn’t until about five months ago he’d become more bold with his advances.
Pushing the image of Gregory and his unattractive body out of her
mind, she looked down at the drawing of the man in the back of the book.
Perhaps Marcus had been right. From the five chapters she’d read, “Lady Bird”,
who Emma was convinced now more than before was a fictional name, had described
in detail many male members. Some long, some short, some thin, some wide, all
different. She blushed. These were not thoughts for
proper young ladies. Then again, neither was reading such a scandalous book.
She sighed. She was an old spinster governess now. She’d never have a chance to
be with a man anyway, so what was the harm in reading the book? Nobody would
know, and after she finished, she’d just put it back and pretend to be the
naive girl everyone thought her to be.
Curiosity
urged her to flip back a few pages and look at all the pictures. She’d read
enough stories to have an idea of what she’d find. Just as her finger grabbed
hold of the paper and had it nearly flipped back, two sharp knocks sounded at
the door.
“Don’t come
in!” She didn’t know how long she could keep her guest outside and dared not
take a chance walking across the room to return the book. Instead, she crawled
up to the head of the bed, shoved the book behind the mountain of pillows, then
turned around and sat with her back leaning against the pillows. “All right,
you may come in now.”
The door
opened and a frowning Marcus walked in. “What were you doing in here that I had
to wait in the hall?”
“Getting
dressed,” she said airily.
He blinked.
“You seem to be wearing the same thing you had on when I left.”
Emma
grabbed the edges of the robe and held them closed, trying in vain to scowl at
him. “Not that it’s your concern, but I had my robe off,” she lied.
Nodding,
Marcus took a seat in an empty chair. His face looked slightly pink and every
time he looked in her direction, he’d shift and jerk his eyes away.
“Did you
come in here for a reason?” she asked after he fidgeted in his chair for a few
minutes.
“I wanted
to talk to you about earlier. Emma, I was only trying to take care of you. I didn’t
mean to—”
“I know,”
she cut in. “It’s of no account. I was embarrassed then, but I’m not now.”
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