Here is a glimpse of the Hero I am currently writing in my latest #darkromance Victorian.
Corinne gasped as the man turned his attention to her.The impact of his gaze felt like a physical hand squeezing the breath from her body. His eyes! His eyes bore into her. Shining black as polished onyx. Their expression filled with the dark promise of destiny.
A tall, imposing man, he was at least two heads taller than the cardinal. Impossibly broad shoulders were cloaked in an expertly tailored black frock coat. An intricately tied cravat at his throat tapered to a deep purple brocade waistcoat, emphasizing his narrow hips and long legs. As she followed Mother Superior up the aisle, his features came into focus. Thick, ink black hair swept back from a widow’s peak framed a handsome yet rigid face. Lowered brow, aristocratic nose, angular jaw. The only softness, his lips, which showed just the hint of a knowing smile.
Stunned, Corinne tripped over the white marble step leading up the alter.
Large, warm hands spanned her ribcage. Saving her from a fall. Lifting her high till the toes of her slippers skimmed the smooth floor. The man placed her before him. Craning her neck back, Corinne dared a glance at his eyes. Frightened of being pulled into their black depths, she quickly averted her own. Desperately she tried to pull air into her body but the feel of his hands, the warmth radiating through the thin silk, prevented anything but a feeble gasp. His touch. The sensation of it. Her limited experience did not give her words to describe, could not prepare her, for such a soul bearing emotion.
“Lord Talon, may I present Corinne,” intoned Mother Superior with reverence.
Lord Lucian Talon, Duke of Ebonhurst. A wealthy peer with extensive landholdings throughout the British Isles in Northumberland, Devon, Somerset and Cumbria. His ancestral home was in the harsh, unforgiving lands of Cornwall. The ruthless rocky terrain and brackish winds forging a commanding lineage of powerful, influential men who never quite shook off the primal impulses of their conquering ancestors. Like his father before him and his father’s father, Lord Lucian took what he wanted without apology, did what he wanted without hesitation and demanded complete subservience without penitence.
The Rebel’s Secret is the third and final book in USA Today Bestseller Zoe Blake's Western Trilogy, The Ride Hard Series which include The Cowboy’s Revenge – Book One and The Gunfighter’s Pursuit – Book Two. All three books can be read as stand-alones.
She was determined to claim her revenge. He was determined to claim her. Michaela Armistead had only revenge in mind when she stepped into that frontier saloon. Disguised as a boy, she had been on her father’s murderer’s trail since the end of the War Between The States. What she hadn’t counted on was Major John Thomas Brice, commanding officer of the nearby fort, taking her prisoner!
One look at those flashing violet eyes and Major Brice knew this was one little rebel who needed to be taken in hand. He would be damned if he allowed her to continue on her dangerous quest for revenge. She needed to learn, in this part of Texas, his word was law. If that lesson came at the end of a leather strap, then so be it.
Problem was, his feisty Rebel was not going to give in without a fight!
Ride Hard Series – Three Soldiers, One Single Purpose
Three soldiers who don’t give a damn about the War Between The States or that they were all on the losing side. All they care about is it’s over… they can finally seek their revenge.
Here is a quick excerpt from my latest WIP.
Corinne will never forget her first glimpse of Ebonhurst Castle.
If she had been fortunate enough to grow up at her mother’s knee, she may have compared it to a fairytale. Imagining chivalric deeds, knights on white horses and ancient magic. Alas, Corinne’s childhood was spent in a cold Abbey surrounded by relics of dead saints and stern warnings of damnation. With such a limited experience, she could only view the imposing fortification with its crowned turrets, somber gray walls and unwelcoming facade through the same eyes she viewed its master. With fear and trepidation.
As the coach rumbled along the uneven path, swerving dangerously close to the cliff edge with each turn, she could hear the rushing of the sea as it crashed against the jagged rocks. The icy dark waters swallowing all reflected light. With each winding twist of the road, the castle crept closer into view. Perched almost defiantly at the tip of a rocky peninsula which stretched out over the black sea, it seemed to mark the end of the world. As if the castle guarded the gate between society and the pagan past.
Corinne hazard a glance from under her thick lashes at the man who sat silently across from her. She wondered which world he represented. His title, wealth, even the fine cut of his clothes bespoke him a gentleman in every respect. Yet, his demeanor, his actions, his stated intentions towards her screamed of a primal nature that would disregard the laws of man and perhaps even God at whim. He had made it clear she was more possession than wife and would be treated as such. What kind of life awaited her in this forbidding castle with the even more formidable Dark Duke?