LOVE DENIED

If you enjoy historical romance set in Regency-era England, I hope you'll check out Love Denied. It's the first novel in the series Honorable Intentions for Dragonblade Publishing. Release is scheduled for January 28, 2022. In the meantime, please enjoy an excerpt.                                                                               

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This life, which had been the tomb of his virtue and of his honour, is but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.

~ Shakespeare (Macbeth)

 

Nicholas tugged the bridle, pulling Taurus to a stop, and then slid from the stallion. Relief coursed through his cramped legs. He let the reins drop and brushed at his jacket and trousers, the rising dust tickling his nose, its chalky residue lingering on his tongue. He straightened, rolling his shoulders, and tension rippled down his spine until the muscles in his lower back contracted and released.

The domed roof of the addition to the manse rose above the tree line, the pearl marble gleaming in the sun. It reminded him of the folly, once his pride and joy. His dream of architecture long gone, he wondered if the sight of the folly would still bring pleasure. He glanced in its direction, but it was well-hidden by the forest, cloistered from the world as he’d hoped when he first envisioned it.

Taurus, nostrils flaring, snorted, blowing a warm stream of air across his face. He’d ridden him too hard. He patted the stallion’s neck, the hair moist beneath his hand. “You’re a good man.” A few feet off the main drive, the bridge beckoned. He left the horse knowing it would wait where it stood. Stubborn but loyal. Like Catherine. He scanned the ground for a small rock. Scrub grass and a few pebbles, but nothing worthy of a wish.

His boots clicked against the wood. He stopped midway. It was impossible to tell if the fish were well stocked. There was no sign of movement beneath the surface, but it was a deep lake. He couldn’t remember the last time he held a rod. Such indulgences were probably now and forever relegated to the past. There would be no hours to waste, no idle time to fill. Not that there’d been for years, but he’d always thought leisurely activities would enrich his life once again. And Catherine’s. All dreams included Catherine.

Reaching up, Nicholas ripped the epaulet from his shoulder, clutching it in his fist. He raised it to his mouth and kissed his curled fingers, the rough metallic threads coarse against his lips. “To simple pleasures.” The gold braid plopped ungracefully into the water, tilting awkwardly as it absorbed water. He watched the epaulet sink, wishing it took his shame with it, wanting to bury the last four years under the silt and sludge at the bottom. If only it were that easy.

The special license tucked inside his jacket brought some comfort. He traced its stiff outline, his heart lightening at the promise it held. The far end of the bridge beckoned. It would be so easy to cross it and follow the path to Stratton Hall. To see Catherine. To hold her in his arms again. He drew his shoulders back and pivoted. He knew too well how to stiffen his resolve as well as his back. Pleasure must be delayed for duty. Catherine would have to wait.

The rising specter of Woodfield Park summoned. It was time to face Daniel.