“Do you know how very special you’ve become to me?” Quenton asked. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Copyright
“Do you know how very special you’ve become to me?” Quenton asked.
Olivia was afraid to speak, for fear of spoiling the moment.
“I must kiss you, Olivia.” He bent to her and brushed his lips over hers. It was the merest whisper of mouth to mouth. And yet it sent heat pouring through her veins. Her heart swelled with so much love she feared it would burst.
On a gasp she started to pull away. He changed the angle of the kiss and moved his hands along her back, soothing, arousing.
Quenton.“
“Shh. A minute more.” He pressed soft, moist kisses to her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose. His mouth followed the line of her jaw, teasing the corner of her lips until, unable to wait any longer, she turned her face and felt his lips cover hers once more.
The kiss was no longer gentle. With a guttural sound they came together in a fierce heat that threatened to consume them both....
Dear Reader,
This month we’ve covered all the bases. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll find romance. Our big news this month is the return of Ruth Langan with Blackthorne, her first medieval novel in nearly four years! Packed with intrigue and emotion, this is the tale of a haunted widower, the lord of Blackthorne, whose child’s governess teaches him how to love again. It’s great!
Be sure to look for Apache Fire by longtime author Elizabeth Lane. In this stirring Western, a Native American army scout on the run from vigilantes finds shelter in the arms of a beautiful young widow. In Lost Acres Bride by rising talent Lynna Banning, a rugged, by-the-book rancher must contend with the female spitfire who inherits a piece of his land—and gets a piece of his heart! Don’t miss this fun and frolicking Western.
Rounding out the month is Three Dog Knight by the versatile Tori Phillips. This clever “prequel” to Midsummer’s Knight is about a painfully shy earl whose marriage of convenience to an illegitimate noblewoman must survive the schemes of an evil sister-in-law.
Whatever your tastes in reading, you’ll be sure to find a romantic journey back to the past between the covers of a Harlequin Historicals® novel.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell, Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Out. L2A 5X3
Blackthorne
Ruth Langan
RUTH LANGAN traces her ancestry to Scotland and Ireland. It is no surprise, then, that she feels a kinship with the characters in her historical novels.
Married to her childhood sweetheart, she has raised five children and lives in Michigan, the state where she was born and raised.
To Riley Erin Langan
And her proud parents, Mike and Patty And her big sister, Kelly
And, as always, to Tom
Who owns my heart.
Chapter One
Cornwall, 1662
Evening shadows cloaked the rolling hills and verdant meadows dotted with sheep. Tenant farmers, weary after a day in the fields, paused behind their flocks to watch as an elegant carriage rolled toward the manor house in the distance.
“So. The blackheart has returned.” An old man leaned on his staff and turned to his son. “It isn’t enough that he murdered his bride and tossed his brother from the cliffs, leaving him mute and crippled. Or that he fled England for a life of crime on the high seas, leaving the old lord to clean up his mess. Now he thinks his friendship with the king gives him the right to just come back and claim his inheritance as though nothing has happened.”
“Who’s to stop him?” the younger man muttered.
“Aye. Who indeed? The rich live by their own rules.” The old man’s eyes narrowed, watching the carriage roll to a stop in the distant courtyard. “It’s bad enough that our sweat and blood contribute to his wealth. Pity those who must actually live under his roof at Blackthorne.”
“God save us! His lordship has arrived.” Mistress Thornton, housekeeper at Blackthorne, the estate of Quenton, Lord Stamford, clapped her hands for attention, then began summoning the servants in her squeaky, high-pitched voice. The more agitated she became, the higher her voice. “Edlyn, you vain, idleheaded minnow. Stop preening and move along with the others.”
As the servants spilled out the front entrance and formed a long column in the courtyard, she and Pem-broke, the head of the household staff, stepped forward. They made a comical picture. Where Mistress Thornton was