Excerpt from The Heiress and the Highwayman, which is Book 5 of the To Woo an Heiress series
The following scene takes place during a snowy, late-October night in an old mill house in the Cotswolds of Regency England. The beautiful Lydia is on a mission to help a friend, but her carriage is waylaid by boys playing at being highwaymen. When the true thief arrives — bold, commanding, and sinfully handsome — he takes a wounded Lydia to his hideout where he tends to her injury and stirs her curiosity. But is a future even possible with the dashing thief who claims to be heir to an earldom?
The following scene takes place during a snowy, late-October night in an old mill house in the Cotswolds of Regency England. The beautiful Lydia is on a mission to help a friend, but her carriage is waylaid by boys playing at being highwaymen. When the true thief arrives — bold, commanding, and sinfully handsome — he takes a wounded Lydia to his hideout where he tends to her injury and stirs her curiosity. But is a future even possible with the dashing thief who claims to be heir to an earldom?
The cool breeze of the night gave way to cozy warmth. Where there was once the clatter of hooves, Lydia could now detect only the distant whoosh-whoosh of water. The scent of something delicious—spices, perhaps; many of them—surrounded her, while beneath her was the feel of soft bedding.
She had a vague notion that she needed to do something, quickly, but she couldn’t recall exactly what, or why.
A man spoke, his words indecipherable at first, but his cadence captivating.
Lydia stirred at the sound.
Like the night, his voice held depth and mystery. He was encouraging her to awaken, she realized. And though it sounded as if he was a great distance from her, she sensed that he’d knelt directly beside her. She fought hard to open her eyes, to view him, but felt weighted down by a slumberous lethargy.
He spoke again, coaxing her away from the sleepiness that threatened to swallow her whole.
Lydia opened her eyes … and immediately wondered if she had conjured this man in a dream.
His handsome face transformed from worried to relieved as he looked down at her.
“For a moment I feared you might sleep forever, Miss…?”
“Lacey … Miss Lydia Lacey.” Lydia tried to blink the sluggishness from her confused brain. “And y-you are…?”
“Mr. Nash Westcott. I am pleased to be at your service, Miss Lacey.”
He did indeed appear to be “at her service.” Having settled her atop something soft, he now focused on that area near her right temple that stung as if she’d carried a skep of angry bees atop her head.
Unable to fully rouse herself from her drowsy state, Lydia settled for watching the man as he worked.
His eyes were a beguiling shade of amber and brown, his hair a mix of chestnut with burnished gold. His lips were smooth and handsomely shaped. And his strong hands proved efficient and gentle as he ministered to what must be a cut to her brow.
Why she noted such things about him, she couldn’t say. It wasn’t at all like her.
But this moment was unlike any other.
The man, too.
It all seemed a dream.
As he moved nearer to dab at her injured brow, Lydia leaned up … and nearly touched her lips to his.
Mr. Westcott held very still, allowing her to do what she would. His lips parted slightly, as if her actions made his breath catch.
In his eyes she saw a flaring of something hot and hungry. She could sense a change in him—could detect the strong pounding of his heart, like a bold drum in the distance, and the burn of something fierce, yet leashed, in his gaze.
She had a vague notion that she needed to do something, quickly, but she couldn’t recall exactly what, or why.
A man spoke, his words indecipherable at first, but his cadence captivating.
Lydia stirred at the sound.
Like the night, his voice held depth and mystery. He was encouraging her to awaken, she realized. And though it sounded as if he was a great distance from her, she sensed that he’d knelt directly beside her. She fought hard to open her eyes, to view him, but felt weighted down by a slumberous lethargy.
He spoke again, coaxing her away from the sleepiness that threatened to swallow her whole.
Lydia opened her eyes … and immediately wondered if she had conjured this man in a dream.
His handsome face transformed from worried to relieved as he looked down at her.
“For a moment I feared you might sleep forever, Miss…?”
“Lacey … Miss Lydia Lacey.” Lydia tried to blink the sluggishness from her confused brain. “And y-you are…?”
“Mr. Nash Westcott. I am pleased to be at your service, Miss Lacey.”
He did indeed appear to be “at her service.” Having settled her atop something soft, he now focused on that area near her right temple that stung as if she’d carried a skep of angry bees atop her head.
Unable to fully rouse herself from her drowsy state, Lydia settled for watching the man as he worked.
His eyes were a beguiling shade of amber and brown, his hair a mix of chestnut with burnished gold. His lips were smooth and handsomely shaped. And his strong hands proved efficient and gentle as he ministered to what must be a cut to her brow.
Why she noted such things about him, she couldn’t say. It wasn’t at all like her.
But this moment was unlike any other.
The man, too.
It all seemed a dream.
As he moved nearer to dab at her injured brow, Lydia leaned up … and nearly touched her lips to his.
Mr. Westcott held very still, allowing her to do what she would. His lips parted slightly, as if her actions made his breath catch.
In his eyes she saw a flaring of something hot and hungry. She could sense a change in him—could detect the strong pounding of his heart, like a bold drum in the distance, and the burn of something fierce, yet leashed, in his gaze.
Books 4 & 5 of the To Woo an Heiress Series
The above excerpt is from Book 5 of the To Woo an Heiress series!
Available at a number of digital stores -- take your pick!
Grab your copy at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple | Google | Kobo
Grab your copy at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple | Google | Kobo