Desire in Tartan by
Suz deMello
Dugald Kilburn was sure that he’d never find love. And why
should he?
‘Tis rare for vampires and their mates to reproduce
successfully and Dugald kens that. He’s certain his lust caused his first
wife’s death in childbed.
Innocent Alice Derwent presents Dugald with a dilemma. She’s
different than any woman he’s known, different and altogether alluring. And
while the lady is innocent, her feelings are anything but.
Will he bed and wed the lady, risking her life? Or remain celibate,
sparing her?
But when threatened with death, Alice decides she doesn’t
want to die without knowing Dugald’s love. Can he resist her charms?
Like what you read?
Buy it here:
*****
Excerpt:
Book
Two of the Highland Vampires series from Ellora’s Cave
***
Glasgow,
Autumn 1759
Dugald
left most of his company of men back at the inn with strict instructions to
stay out of trouble, but he had no illusions. The men would drink as much as
they could hold before finding the loosest bits of muslin available. If they
were still able to perform, perform they would, as long and as hard as
possible. He hoped that he’d be able to rescue the less experienced of the lot
out of whatever scrapes they fell into. The youngest, Malcolm, came with Dugald
as his companion. He wouldna leave Malcolm in the care of the rest.
The
mop fair was a mad scene. ’Twas combined with a street fair and a farmer’s
market, so the entire population of Glasgow had seemingly crowded itself into
the square with a market cross in the center. Food stalls, redolent with the
spicy aromas of roasting fowls and sausages were fronted by cooks and
’prentices bawling out the prices of their wares. Nearby, penned livestock
emitted a less appealing miasma of straw and shite, with the autumn wind
swirling the scents along with dry leaves.
Turning
to Malcolm, Dugald raised his brows. Without speaking, the two Kilburns started
to walk along the disordered rows of booths. Once they’d passed the food
stalls, the fair became even more riotous, with knots of maids and men looking
for hire, screeching their qualifications. Each brandished a tool of his or her
trade, cooks with rolling pins or wooden spoons, coachmen with their whips.
Country girls in their Sunday dresses crowded in a knot, peering anxiously at
well-dressed passers-by whom Dugald guessed were the stewards of the grand
houses. Every once in a while one would stop and question a rosy-cheeked lass,
occasionally leaving the fair with a new maid or tweeny in tow.
He
stopped, arrested by a sweet fragrance that rose from the reek of unwashed
bodies like clean mist drifting on the surface of a loch. He hadn’t detected it
before. Mayhap it had been cloaked by the pungent roasting sausages and the
other scents at the food stalls—herbs and the like.
He
lifted his face into the air and sniffed. Yes, ‘twas there, elusive but
definite.
Malcolm
did the same. “I smell it too.”
“That’s
our lassie,” Dugald said.
The
stripling looked mystified. “A sweet smell means a governess?”
“Milady
gave me questions to ask.” Dugald patted his sporran. “If she passes, she’s the
one. But this is how we’ll be finding her.”
At
the end of the row of coachmen, stable hands, maids and cooks fluttered a
gaggle of…what? Somberly robed figures resembling a flock of giant crows or,
mayhap, vultures. Exuding the stinks of mothballs and body odor, they all
appeared to be flapping about one small, drab figure, a female who couldna
contrast more with her oafish companions.
Dugald’s
first impression of the woman was of narrowness, so at odds with her tempting
scent that all he could do was stand and gape at her like a looby. Dressed in
unrelieved black, she had slender shoulders and a tiny waist. Slight hips. When
she turned, he could see she possessed but a small bosom. He raised his gaze
and didn’t bother to stifle a gasp at the sight of her pure and perfect
profile. Intelligence sparkled in her hazel eyes, completely belying the rest
of her dull demeanor.
Her
face… He could stare at that face forever without a single moment of
boredom. Pale, though not as white as a
Kilburn’s, for a smattering of freckles spattered the bridge of her straight
little nose and sprinkled her high cheekbones. She had well-cut lips with a
definite Cupid’s bow, the one distinct curve on her serious face. A
semi-circular half-moon dip.
He
wanted to slide his tongue into that dip before kissing her with every mite of
passion he possessed.
*****
Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello,
a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres,
including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a
number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance
editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Liquid Silver Books and Ai Press, where
she is currently Managing Editor. She also takes private clients.
Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained
the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.
A former trial attorney, her passion is world
travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working
overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.
Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com
For editing
services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com
Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift, and visit her group at http://www.facebook.com/HotWriters
She tweets her reading picks
@ReadThis4fun
Sounds great. I love Vampires!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Eva! And thanks, DSA, for hosting me!
ReplyDelete