9780440224556: The Blood of Roses
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0440224551 ISBN 13: 9780440224556
Verlag: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, 1998

Inhaltsangabe

The sequel to The Pride of Lions journeys back to war-torn medieval Scotland, where English beauty Catherine Ashbrooke is wrenched from the arms of her husband, Scottish warrior and spy Alexander Cameron. Reprint.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Marsha Canham is the award-winning author of twelve historical romances and makes her home in Toronto, Canada. While not a member of the half-century club yet, she is looking forward to holding her first grandchild in her arms this August.

She was inspired to write The Blood of Roses and its prequel, The Pride of Lions, by an inexplicable and intense fascination with eighteenth-century Scottish history. Among the many intriguing coincidences that occurred during the three years it took to write the two novels was the fact that the Battle of Culloden was fought on April 16, 1746, negotiations for The Pride of Lions were begun by her publisher on April 16, 1985, and the final words of The Blood of Roses were written on April 16, 1988. Neither of the latter two events was planned. They were brought to the author's attention by a third party.

Her next historical romance, Pale Moon Rider, will be available from Dell in December.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Catherine struck out with her fists, pushing and writhing against the great wall of muscle that threatened to crush her. She managed to land a solid blow to his temple and was gathering steam for another when she heard a softly muttered Gaelic oath.

Her fist froze in midair and her eyes widened. Certain her mind was playing some dreadful hoax, her body tensed and her heart skipped several beats.

"A hell of a greeting for a wife to give her husband," Alex murmured, his hand still in place over her mouth, but easing slightly so that it was almost a caress. Indeed, as she continued to stare up at him in shock, the hand slid around to cradle the side of her neck and the pressure of his lean fingers was replaced by the possessive warmth of his lips.

"Alex?" She gasped. "Oh, God . . . Alex?"

"You were expecting someone else, perhaps?" He leaned back and let the firelight play havoc with the glimmering wash of silk. "Come to think of it, you certainly look as if you were expecting someone."

"N-no. No!  No, I . . . I . . ." Her hands trembled up to his cheeks as if to confirm he was real flesh and blood. "Please . . . tell me I'm not dreaming."

"You are not dreaming," he assured her, kissing each disbelieving eyelid with a gentleness that caused a sob to catch in her throat. "I'm here. I'm real."

"But . . . how did you get here?  I thought . . . I mean, Damien said it would be too dangerous for you to come here . . . that I was to wait for a message . . ."

Alexander's hands moved down her body compulsively, as if he could not stop their actions now that she was finally in his arms.

"When Damien impressed upon me the fragile nature of your patience"--his palm encircled the heavy softness of her breast--"I found my own condition to be rather indelicate as well. Far too indelicate to bother with cloak-and-dagger nonsense."

"But the soldiers . . . the militia . . ."

Alex's gaze followed his hand. His thumb stroked the velvety crown of her nipple, and he watched it grow taut and rigid beneath its veil of silk. Catherine's eyes were fixed unwaveringly on his face, on the square, rugged jawline, the dark slash of eyebrows, the twin crescents of long black lashes. She felt the motion of his thumb and she felt the pressure from each individual finger against her breast. Icy shivers of anticipation raced across the surface of her flesh, growing more and more insistent at each slow circuit of his thumb.

Suddenly the obsidian eyes were gazing deeply into hers. The muscles in his arms were tense and unyielding, his body seemed strained to the limit of his composure. Was it her imagination, or had the months of rigorous army life added even more strength, developed even more formidable breadth to his shoulders and chest, whittled a lean new hardness to his waist and hips?  His hair was as long and unruly as she remembered it, and, responding to an impulse, her fingers released the thin black ribbon binding it and let the glossy waves spill free and curl forward over his shoulders.

His hands had not been idle. They had roved lower on the smooth, silk-clad outline of her hips and thighs, and returned with the captured hem of the nightdress. He drew it above her waist and left it in a shimmering crumple under her arms while he sent his fingers skimming back down into the soft golden thatch below her belly. Catherine endured the first light, delicious strokes in silence, awed by the sweet, sharp ache of shameless pleasure. But as the incursions became deeper and more determined, she rose against him, arched against the shivering torment with a need she could neither conceal nor deny.

"Easy, love," he whispered. "Easy."

"I . . . can't." She gasped. "It's been so long. I--I've missed you so badly."

"Shhh. I'm here now."

"I didn't know if you were alive or dead. I didn't know if I would ever see you again, if you would ever come back to me. I began to wonder if I had imagined it all . . . everything . . .  Achnacarry . . . everything."

A sob of sheer ecstasy was torn from her throat as he lowered his dark head to her breast. His lips claimed the tightly crinkled nipple, drawing the succulent flesh into the heated well of his mouth where it was taunted and tormented with the same skillful thoroughness his fingers were demonstrating elsewhere. When she was a breath away from orgasm, he withdrew his hand and his mouth covered hers, smothering her harsh groan of frustration. His tongue plunged repeatedly over and around hers, the sensations coiling downward and inward until she felt like a molten sheet of flame.

His mouth blazed a trail of fire from the underside of her chin down past the laboring rise and fall of her breasts. From there his tongue swirled onto her belly and into the seductive little indent of her navel. Restlessly he traveled lower, prompting shocked reverberations that weakened each of her limbs and made her quiver with expectation as he eased them apart. His hands curved beneath her hips and held her firm while his lips and tongue explored the tender pink junction, lashing over and over again at the remaining shreds of her composure.

Reaching down with frantic, disbelieving hands, she clawed her fingers into the thick, raven mane of his hair. Her lips drew back in a soundless cry as hot, shivering spirals of pleasure whorled through her body and, tasting them, delving for them, his tongue set wave upon wave of fiery convolutions rippling inward and outward until she stiffened and shuddered again and again and again.

With a groan that mocked his own self-restraint, Alex rose above her, his muscles bunched and trembling, his hands shaking where they still cradled her hips. He drew her forward and upward into his first thrust, burying himself so deep there was not a breath or gasp between them, no nerve left unscathed by the joining. She locked her arms around him, locked her legs around him, helpless to forestall the white-hot surge of ecstasy that gripped them both in endless volleys of sharp, blinding pleasure.

Dazed, they clung together, straining and writhing with the need to savor each prolonged tremor until it shimmered into memory. Only then did pent-up breaths make a startled, rushed release; only then did the shivering, quaking tension drain away to leave the two damp, entwined bodies collapsed and panting softly against one another. From somewhere Alex found the strength to raise his flushed face from her shoulder and kiss her--a kiss as honest and naked in its emotion as the shine betrayed in his eyes.

"I did not think a man could miss his wife as much as I have missed you," he admitted shakily. "A mistress, aye. As a former rogue, content in my bachelorhood, I could more easily understand the intrigue and fascination there . . . but a wife?"

Catherine's eyes opened slowly, two dark pools of violet swimming with unshed tears of happiness. His lips caressed each lid, the tip of her nose, the luscious pout of her lips, and her arms tightened reflexively, as did her limbs, when she felt him start to ease himself away.

"Please don't," she pleaded softly. "Don't leave me just yet."

"I have no intentions of leaving you. I just thought--"

"Don't think. Don't do anything. Just hold me . . . as close as you can."

Aware of his superior weight, Alex compromised by gently rolling with her onto his side. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and Catherine pressed her face into his shoulder, the inner turbulence of her emotions finally...

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Verlag
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
1998
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0440224551
ISBN 13 
9780440224556
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
564
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Dell GmbH
6997927350
DE.CustomerSupport@dell.com

Unterschweinstiege 10
Frankfurt am Main
60549
Deutschland

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