A proper young lady
should never attend a Masque...Aphrodite is no lady.
Betrothal
to the callous Lord Blackhall painted a future devoid of love. Upon his death,
Lady Caroline Wilmont is promised to the younger brother. Caroline refuses to
allow her first taste of desire to be at the hands of a man who would rather
have any woman but her. This, her last night of freedom, is to be a memory of
lust that she can take with her throughout her loveless marriage. As Aphrodite,
Caroline attends a masque determined to find a man to initiate her into the
intimacies of erotic love.
Taran
Robertson, Viscount of Blackhall, makes no secret that he despises his
obligation to marry the Sassenach heiress chosen for him by his father. As a
last foray before his wedding, he attends a masque. However, the spirited vixen
he meets and seduces has secrets...secrets that just may reveal he’s to have an
improper wife.
TARAH
SCOTT
Award winning
author Tarah Scott cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey,
and Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the
Wind as a close second. She writes modern classical romance, and paranormal and
romantic suspense. Tarah grew up in Texas and currently resides in Westchester
County, New York with her daughter.
“By God,” Caroline cursed ten minutes later.
Lord Forbes had not been boasting when he’d said his
garden maze was unmatched in all of northern England. She blew out a frustrated
breath. Of all the nights to become lost in one of the damned labyrinths. She
turned down another bend and a white stone statue became visible ahead on the
left. Caroline groaned. Already, she’d seen half a dozen replicas of Greek and
Roman goddesses. This statue, she realized upon approach, was a large cherubim.
The half-moon peeked through a hole in the veil of clouds, illuminating an
alcove just ahead.
“Thank God.”
Caroline hurried forward. As expected, a stone bench
lay nestled between the bushes. She hiked up her skirt and stepped onto the
bench. Wind rustled across the hedge tops, setting her nerves more on edge. She
scanned the acres of perfectly manicured shrubs that cut and curved in all
directions.
“Bloody hell,” she cursed.
In the distance, the rear of the maze gave way to trees
that stretched heavenward, but she stood no chance of navigating through the
twists and turns that led to them. She faced the mansion and studied the path
leading back in that direction.
“Left, right, second right, third—no—second left,” she
said, while reciting a silent vow never to have a stupid maze on any of her
properties.
Caroline turned to jump from the bench and shrieked. A
masked, kilted god stood nearly eye-to-eye with her. She stumbled back. He
seized her waist and yanked her forward. She instinctively threw her arms
around his neck to keep from falling and her cheek met the warm, damp flesh of
his shoulder. Her heart raced at a gallop.
“Careful, my lady.” The deep, cultured English accent
didn’t quite disguise the hint of Scottish burr.
Gooseflesh chilled her arms. Yet, her body warmed. Her
nipples hardened to erect peaks against the thin fabric of her costume.
“My lady,” he prodded.
Fear that he would feel the heat of her arousal
immobilized her.
“I can stand here all night, if it pleases you,” he
murmured.
The erotic vision of him doing just that while she
rubbed her nipples against his hard body snapped her head up. Dark eyes
indistinguishable from the shadow stared at her through a black eye mask.
A flurry of butterflies swirled in her tummy. “I am
lost.” She cursed the breathless note in her voice.
“Nay, I found you.” He shifted. A dusting of hair at
the nape of his neck tickled her fingertips. He slowly slid her body against
his as he lowered her to the ground.
The scent of leather and cloves clung to him. She
inhaled, heart fluttering, then tilted her head up. “You have my gratitude,
sir. I would be even more grateful if you could direct me out of
this…this…labyrinth.”
“Even more
grateful?” he repeated.
Caroline became aware of the rough wool of his kilt
against the sensitive skin of her thigh. She willed her racing heart to slow.
Here was the warm flush that had been missing with the domino in the ballroom.
Cruel fate. Far too late has come my
redemption.
“Would you like to return to the masque?” His hands
dropped from her waist.
A strange sense of loss washed over her. She steeled
her resolve to go home and stepped away from him. “I am leaving.”
“Through the gardens?” The harshness in his tone
startled her. “It is more likely you fled the festivities to meet someone. The
blue domino, perhaps?”
Caroline stiffened. “Anyone attending the masque is
well aware of the frolicking taking place in these gardens.”
“Frolicking?” he repeated.
“You are here, sir. Need I feel recrimination because I
am a woman? Bah,” she added in a mutter. “I have no time for this foolishness.”
She meant to head towards the mansion, but he blocked
the way, so she turned deeper into the maze.
“My lady.” He grasped her arm.
She dropped her gaze to his long, dark fingers. His
hold, though light, held her firm. An unexpected vision of those strong fingers
gripping her hips while he pumped into her from behind caused her to snap her
head up.
“No time for this
foolishness?” He lifted his free hand and drew a thumb along her bottom
lip.
Heat coursed through her veins. There was no misreading
the invitation. Had he read her mind? He offered what she so desperately
desired, a night of passion in the arms of a man who hungered for her. This man
would demand more than she could afford—but suddenly wanted with every fiber of
her being to give.
He pulled her an inch closer. She took the step haltingly.
Amusement showed in the upturn of his mouth and he tugged her so near that her
nipples came into contact with his warm chest. A tremor radiated through her.
In all her planning, she hadn’t considered a man might steal her breath as well
as rational thought. Heat crept into her face. She disengaged her arm from his
grasp.
“Forgive me. I—” She faltered, unable to trust her
ability to resist should he twitch even a muscle. “I fear I may have grossly
misrepresented my position.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Most who attend these events
misrepresent their position. That is the brilliance of the masque, Aphrodite,
the night is ours.”
Happy reading!
Tarah
First off, what an absolutely gorgeous cover that is a perfect representation of the story!
I have a deep love and appreciation for great Highlander stories. The Highlander's Improper Wife is a quick read full of everything a great Highlander story needs and more! It's fun and sexy with a unique plot- I've never read anything like it and it worked really well in this story!There's a bit of action and romance, with the perfect balance between steam and the life of the characters as it changes.
Great writing mixes with great characters for a truly enjoyable read. I would definitely pick up anything these two authors write!
If you like Highlander stories with a bit of heat, give this one a try!
5/5
One lucky commenter will win a digital copy of The Highlander's Improper Wife from Tarah! :) Please leave a valid email address in your comment!
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