By Suzanne Quill
Genre: Historical Romance
If Love Were
Enough
Priscilla
Brunell, Marchioness of Rutherford, is in desperate need of a son and heir. Her
seventy-year-old husband of ten years has died leaving her a virgin and the
protectress of his estates. If she can’t produce a son in the next nine months,
the current heir, Damon, will succeed in ruining the family fortunes in a
matter of a few years due to his gaming and womanizing. Dare she ignore her
morals and pass another man’s child off as her husband’s? Can she do so without
losing her heart?
Soon to be the Viscount Brookfield, Brandon Bradley arrives at a house party at the insistence of his dying father. In all rights, he should be home marrying Estella and begetting his heir. Estella is certainly pleasant and attractive, but in all their years of friendship he has never felt anything but a cold distance from her. Then he meets Lady Rutherford. Not only can she help him through his grief, he is immediately attracted to her. Can he let down his father and Estella merely for his own benefit? Can he break the pattern of society and marry for love?
Soon to be the Viscount Brookfield, Brandon Bradley arrives at a house party at the insistence of his dying father. In all rights, he should be home marrying Estella and begetting his heir. Estella is certainly pleasant and attractive, but in all their years of friendship he has never felt anything but a cold distance from her. Then he meets Lady Rutherford. Not only can she help him through his grief, he is immediately attracted to her. Can he let down his father and Estella merely for his own benefit? Can he break the pattern of society and marry for love?
Priscilla
thought of her last moments with Robert, how he held her hand so weakly, his
hand frail and dry clasping hers. He had looked into her eyes, but the twinkle
had dulled in his. Still, his earnestness, his caring, had been apparent.
He counseled her
to find another and to marry once again. But he begged her not to be dictated
to by Society. She would have money from his estate. She should look for a man
to love her not her fortune. Look for someone who could gratify her in all the
ways his old, arthritic and impotent body failed to do. She should find someone
who would teach her the full meaning of marriage and the conjugal relations
that could be shared within its bounds. She should seek gratification that
could be given by another.
Tears ran down
her cheeks again, and she dabbed at them as she tried to regain her composure.
She turned her face away again using the brim of her bonnet to hide the image
of her grief.
She was afraid
and intimidated by such thoughts. Of course, she knew what should happen in bed
between a man and a woman. But that never happened with Robert because of his
maladies. After waiting so long, she feared she would not be able to release
herself to someone else’s care and tenderness, no less return the same intimacy
with him.
Robert asked too
much of her, considering he could never demonstrate what she should expect to
give or have returned.
But she had
smiled and reassured him amidst her tears. She agreed she would try. If it
never occurred, it would not be her fault, nor would it be a promise broken
since it was predicated on deep feelings that would never exist.
But she would
have a man bed her in hopes of an heir. And, if she could manage it and get
over this incessant crying, she would like to make it this handsome stranger
who had some of Robert’s younger features and seemed so much kinder than she
could have ever hoped.
Her companion
shifted next to her. A shiver ascended her spine once again. She was sitting
too close if she could sense him so easily.
And she could
breathe the scent of him.
This man did not
smell of ointments and age. He smelled of sandalwood, leather, and something
indefinably male. She knew too little of the world in general and men in particular
to be comfortable in his company.
But he did quirk
her interest. And he could solve her problem. He could unknowingly gift her
with a son.
Knowing what an
old man felt like beneath her hands, what would this Corinthian, with his
muscles and strength, feel like when her fingertips slid over his skin?
She felt heat
pool in her belly as her thoughts meandered to the intimacies she could share
with him.
And he, being a
rake of the first water, would know what to do with a lady, to her, to deliver
on the promises whispered between them before the mating.
Only You
Denied the right
to marry his beloved Jessica due to his depleted estate, Jonathan Stratton, the
Earl of Sheffield, travels the world in search of his fortune. Not only does he
gain wealth, he learns the ancient Tantric sexual teachings of the Order of the
Crimson Lotus. Returning after a five-year voyage, which was only supposed to
take three, he finds Jessica more beautiful and desirous than when he left and
married another.
Heiress Jessica
Esterly, Lady Wickham, is beside herself. Not only was she forced to marry a
man she did not love, she discovers him to be a debauched, avaricious rake of
the first water. To make matters worse, she's having nefarious nightmares and
hauntings that are threatening to drive her mad.
Then Jonathan
returns, handsome, wealthy, and ready to love her and share the ancient Tantric
mysteries of the Order of the Crimson Lotus.
How is she to tell Jonathan of her impending madness? How is she to tell him her husband will kill her rather than give up any of the funds her inheritance provides?
How is she to tell Jonathan of her impending madness? How is she to tell him her husband will kill her rather than give up any of the funds her inheritance provides?
“No, no, that’s
not all of it!” She jerked away from him. “There’s more, you see. You’ll not
want me after you know but I must tell you. I am . . . I’m losing my mind. I’m
going quite mad. I know I am. The sounds, the visions . . .” Jessica collapsed
against his shoulder and sobbed once again.
“Mad, Jessica?
What are you talking about? There’s no one in your family who has ever gone
mad, no such tendency. Whatever would make you think you’re going mad?”
Jonathan nudged her gently away so he could scan her tear-stained face. Tears
were still coursing down her cheeks.
“Truly,
Jonathan, I’m not making this up. I wake in the middle of the night for no
reason at all. Then I hear sounds, awful sounds.” Jessica’s voice cracked with
anguish.
“Tell me about
the sounds, my heart, I’m listening.” He cleared his mind of all other thoughts
as he held her gently to his chest, his only concern now her current state of
safety and well-being.
“Moans and
groans and chains. They start softly at first. I can barely hear them when they
start. They sound so far away.” Jessica’s eyes glazed as she seemed to go into
a trance. Then she came back to herself abruptly. “They get louder and closer.
Soon they’re right inside my room. And then it comes. I know not what it is.”
“You see
something, my heart? Something appears to you?” he inquired with care.
“Yes, yes. It’s
white, I think, and not quite there. It seems to float. It groans and moans.
Sometimes I think it calls my name. Sometimes it reaches out to me.” Her voice
was still strained, her face downcast.
“Who have you
told about this? Who else has seen or heard the vision?”
“No one else
that I know of. I told Martin. He told me I was dreaming, having a nightmare.
He says they can recur when a conscience is not clear. That there has never
been a ghost in the house before. He suggested I might grasp a little tighter
on to reality,” she said forlornly.
“I see,”
Jonathan said, his mind reviewing all she had said. “It’s all right, my heart,
maybe it was a bad dream. Maybe it’s not. Promise me you’ll let me know the
next time it happens.”
“I never know
when it will happen, Jonathan. It just does.”
“I know,
Jessica, but I’m here now, you don’t have to go through this, or anything else,
alone. Promise me. Promise that you’ll come to me or send a message the next
time it occurs. Maybe I’ll see it, too, or maybe I’ll be able to figure out
what it is.”
“Yes, Jonathan,
I’ll let you know. It would be a relief to share my nightmare with someone. It
would be even better if I could make it go away. I promise, I’ll let you know.”
She dropped her head against his shoulder. She was so tired, tired of being
scared, tired of crying, tired of being alone and lonely.
An Improper Seduction
Geoffrey
Chisholm doesn’t want to be the head of a family, no less a marquess. But, his
life radically alters when a cousin dies. At five and thirty, he must manage
estates, marry, and provide an heir. A difficult chore considering how jaded he
has become with affairs in the ton. He refuses to leg-shackle himself to just
any woman; she must be one for whom he has some feelings.
Most women live
to marry or must do so for family or finances. Angeline Hartley, her father’s
estates unentailed, has no requirement to wed. Two years past her thirtieth
year, she is on the shelf, her life contentedly complete. After the Marriage
Mart and encounters with local gentlemen, she has vowed to remain unattached.
After all, men do it when they have no need of a wife.
But Geoffrey meets Angeline and entices her to sample the intimacies of lovemaking. The coupling is explosive and now two strong-willed individuals must decide if they will give up personal stubbornness to make a bond for a lifetime.
But Geoffrey meets Angeline and entices her to sample the intimacies of lovemaking. The coupling is explosive and now two strong-willed individuals must decide if they will give up personal stubbornness to make a bond for a lifetime.
“Lady Angeline,”
Geoffrey began, “I will be off shortly.” He would for sure if he didn’t get his
rampant sex away from her immediately. “I thought it best to come to say
goodbye. And, before I take my leave, I thought I should tell you your father
has given me leave to court you.”
Angeline turned
upon her heel, her eyes blazing, the seafoam depths now a raging sea, wrath
plain upon her angelic face. “I think not, my lord. I have no desire for your
attentions,” she said with scorn. “You shall only be wasting my time and yours
in such a fruitless endeavor. Leave me be. I do not wish to be the center of
your marital goals. Surely there is some other woman who would be easier met to
satisfy your needs.”
“There is no one
else I wish to assuage my needs, my lady,” Geoffrey assured her as his rod
twitched within his trousers. “And to attain your interests ours will not be a
proper English courting.”
Throwing caution
to the wind and taking the bold path, Geoffrey lowered his voiced and asked,
“Tell me, my lady, have you ever felt the pleasures of a man? Have you ever
swelled under the feelings of desire?”
The heat and
color rose to Angeline’s face so quickly Geoffrey could not help but see it.
“That is none of
your affair, sir. What I have or have not felt is no one’s business but my own.
Your questions are most improper.”
Geoffrey moved a
few steps closer, putting him less than a foot from her. He could easily reach
out now to stroke her hair, her breasts, to raise her skirts from over her
sensual derrière. “I thought not, based upon our little encounter this morning.
My dear Angeline. . .”
“I gave you no
leave to call me by my Christian name,” she spat out at him. “Please desist
from these efforts and leave me be.”
Eyes still
glaring, she refused to give him the satisfaction of backing off. She remained
rooted in place before him, her cheeks an explosion of red color.
“Lady Angeline,”
he went on, ignoring her reprimand, “let me be blunt. Do you truly wish to die
a virgin? Do you have no thought to leave this plane having some knowledge of
the secrets held between a man and a woman?” he quietly demanded. Only inches
from her face, her lips, pink and full, enticed him to take them with his own.
***
Angeline was
startled and appalled by his inquiry. “That is no business or concern to you,
my lord.” But the heat was pooling in her abdomen.
What was it like
to feel such things with a man?
“Ah, but it is,
my lady, because I choose to be the one to teach you the pleasures between the
sexes. You may never marry, me nor anyone else, but you shall not go to your
grave pristine and untutored. You shall know the very meaning of passion and
desire.”
His eyes were
heavy-lidded and held a glint of knowledge she knew she wished to share. But
she would not. Especially not with this. . .this. . .rake.
The Ravished Rose
Attractive,
capable, intelligent, Elizabeth Mannings returns to London after two years on
the Continent, looking forward to experiencing her first Season and finding a
man to love and marry. Instead, she is brutally attacked, forcing her to flee
London and abandon her hopes for the future.
Allan Ridgefield, Earl of Ridgecrest, no longer has a need for love, having had his heart crushed two days before his wedding when his childhood sweetheart fell from her horse and died. Ten years later, he desperately seeks a marriage of convenience in order to meet the terms of his father’s will and retain his estates and title.
Allan Ridgefield, Earl of Ridgecrest, no longer has a need for love, having had his heart crushed two days before his wedding when his childhood sweetheart fell from her horse and died. Ten years later, he desperately seeks a marriage of convenience in order to meet the terms of his father’s will and retain his estates and title.
“I know this is
very awkward for you. It is for me, too. I, at least, had a momentary glimpse
of you back in London. I knew you were attractive and from what I have heard,
you have at least a degree of intelligence.”
A degree of
intelligence, she thought to herself with disdain, his condescension raising
her ire. Indeed! I’ve had the best education. I’ve read the classics, speak
French and Italian fluently, and acceptable Spanish and Russian. I’ve even had
some Latin. My logic is impeccable when I choose to use it. A degree of
intelligence, indeed! She rallied to control her feelings before she
erupted in his face.
Allan continued,
“To you, however, I am an unknown quantity. You must be very intimidated by me,
your new surroundings, and everything that has happened.”
Everything that
had happened? Had her father told him the details? Did he know what she had
actually been through?
“I hope this
marriage of convenience will turn into a friendship, at least, over time. I
will not force you to do anything you do not wish to do. Elizabeth, I will
never force my attentions upon you. If at some point we both choose to, we may
have greater intimacy, but for now I don’t think that is appropriate.”
Elizabeth stood
as still as the post she clung to. Had she heard right? He would not bed her
tonight? She did not have to tolerate his hands on her body, the intimacies she
did not want?
“Elizabeth, did
you hear me?”
She let out a
quiet gasp of relief. “Yes, my lord.”
He started to
go, then stopped and turned back to her. With great care, he laid his hands on
the sides of her face, tilting it up.
Elizabeth
stiffened once again.
“Look at me,” he
said firmly but gently.
Her body
trembled, her eyelashes fluttered as she reached for all of the strength she
could to gaze up, to face the man she had married, her husband. When their eyes
met, she was sure he could see the fear, distrust, the sense of danger that
must reflect in her eyes.
She could see .
. . What? His eyes were clear and blue. They held strength and coldness, but
something more. She could see gentleness, like his voice. He could take her if
he wished. He certainly had the size and strength to do it. But that did not
show in his eyes, nor his touch. Both were gentle now. Tender to her.
His voice broke
into her thoughts. “Elizabeth . . . may I kiss you good night?”
What should she
say? What should she do? He was her husband. He had promised not to force his
attentions. His hands strong and warm against her face, his eyes delved deeply
into hers. “Yes, my lord,” she heard herself say, not knowing from where the
answer came.
He bent over her
to gently brush his lips on hers. Then he pressed his mouth to hers, firmly,
tenderly.
Shivers coursed through her body, not missing a spot. His energy poured through her. The heat in her heart rose.
Shivers coursed through her body, not missing a spot. His energy poured through her. The heat in her heart rose.
Suzanne Quill,
the nom-de-plume for Susan Dudics Dean, has been pursuing a fiction career for
over fifteen years. With prior experience writing articles for interior design
trade magazines and local newspapers she decided to find a more creative outlet
for her vivid imagination. Inspired by romances from such icons as Amanda
Quick, Diana Gabaldon and Mary Balogh, she chose historicals as her first
genre. She is currently writing a sensuous series called The Order of the
Crimson Lotus. The series includes: If Love Were Enough, Only You, An
Improper Seduction, and The Ravished Rose. All are offered through Soul
Mate Publishing and Amazon.com.
Currently a
member of Romance Writers of America and the Washington Romance
Writers Chapter, Suzanne lives in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia. She
is happily married, has a beautiful daughter, two inside cats and two outside
cats. After years of running a successful interior design business that started
in Southern California, relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area and finally in
the Greater Washington D.C. Area, she has finally retired to pursue her writing
dreams full time.
Look for more in
the Crimson Lotus series soon and contemporary romances under the name of Susan
Dean in the near future.
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