An exclusive excerpt from WHAT A LADY MOST DESIRES 

This post originally appeared on the Historical Romance On The Beach Facebook Tea Party on August 26, 2014

Welcome to tea! Let me pour you a cup of Earl Grey, and offer you a scone—with extra cream, of course—and some fresh raspberries from my garden. Does a summer evening get any better than this?

Isn’t it a little bit sad when summer comes to an end? I prefer to see it as a new beginning—I love these last, perfect days, and watching the summer turn golden and slip into fall.

I am delighted to announce that today is the official release day for WHAT A LADY MOST DESIRES! It’s now available everywhere, and I hope you’ll enjoy reading Stephen and Delphine’s story. He was one of the most challenging heroes I’ve ever written—stiff and formal, blind and wounded, and stuck with the company of a woman he dislikes. But love changes everything, and everyone, and Stephen is no exception.

Here’s another short, exclusive excerpt just for you, dear reader, to enjoy with your tea…

“Stephen would have fallen if she hadn’t caught him. He felt the fragile frame of her body propped under his until he found his balance. God, she was so delicate—he’d crush her if he landed on her. She was feminine and warm too, and she slipped her arm around his waist, and held him safe, and he knew that she would not let him fall. There was determination in every inch of her. “This way,” she said, her voice breathy with effort. “Take the next step.”

He could smell the fragrance of her hair, remembered the dark gloss of it adorned with daisies. If he buried his face in it now, would it still smell of flowers? He walked forward, taking a shuffling step each time she did. His ribs hurt with every indrawn breath, his arm ached, and he felt weak and afraid. Her hip was pressed to his, and she waited for him to set the pace. “A few more steps,” she whispered.

“Where am I going?” he asked.

“Your bedchamber is in the salon off the library. Turn a little to your right.”

“My bedchamber, my lady?” he strove for a light tone, charm, but there was sweat trickling into his eyes from the effort of walking even such a short distance.

At last she clasped his hand, stretched it out, and he gripped instinctively, felt the soft wool of a blanket, the edge of the mattress. He turned, and carefully sat down. She let him go and stepped back. He felt cold where her body had touched his.

“There,” she said, breathless. “Rest now. Shall I read to you again tomorrow?”

He swallowed, and nodded. He didn’t want her to leave him. He wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her, feel the breath in her body, know he was still alive. Instead he stayed where he was, unmoving, and stared into the darkness.

“Then I shall see you in the library at ten o’clock, after breakfast.” She did not press him back against the pillow, or tuck him under the blankets.

“I’ll be ready,” he said. He listened to her retreat across the wooden floor, her steps light and swift, and imagined a deer or a colt. The door shut, and he felt as if another level of darkness had been added to the first with her departure.”

For more excerpts, buy links, and information about the other books in the Temberlay series, please visit my website, at www.leciacornwall.com.