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An amazing new series by May McGoldrick
that brings us right back to Baronsford and the new generation of Penningtons:
In
this stunning series starter by USA
Today
bestselling author May McGoldrick, meet the new generation of
Penningtons...five brothers and sisters of passion and privilege.
Enter their aristocratic world…where each will fight injustice and
find love.
Hugh
Pennington—Viscount Greysteil, Lord Justice of the Scottish Courts,
hero of the Napoleonic wars—is a grieving widower with a death
wish. When he receives an expected crate from the continent, he is
shocked to find a nearly dead woman inside. Her identity is unknown,
and the handful of American coins and the precious diamond sown into
her dress only deepen the mystery.
Grace
Ware is an enemy to the English crown. Her father, an Irish military
commander of Napoleon’s defeated army. Her mother, an exiled
Scottish Jacobite. When Grace took shelter in a warehouse, running
from her father’s murderers through the harbor alleyways of
Antwerp, she never anticipated bad luck to deposit her at the home of
an aristocrat in the Scottish Borders. Baronsford is the last place
she could expect to find safety, and Grace feigns a loss of memory to
buy herself time while she recovers.
Hugh
is taken by her beauty, passion, and courage to challenge his beliefs
and open his mind. Grace finds in him a wounded man of honor, proud
but compassionate. When their duel of wits quickly turns to passion
and romance, Grace’s fears begin to dissolve…until danger follows
her to the very doors of Baronsford. For, unknown to either of them,
Grace has in her possession a secret that will wreak havoc within the
British government. Friend and foe are indistinguishable as lethal
forces converge to tear the two lovers apart or destroy them both.
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Sounds good? Read on!
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Excerpt:
Looking the shipping crate
over for damage and seeing none, he retrieved an iron crow from a
workbench. Jo was standing inside the doors, eyeing the box
doubtfully from a safe distance.
“Come closer. It won’t
bite.”
“Not a chance. From the
smell of that thing, a person would think you’re importing
cadavers. Have you also taken up being a Resurrectionist as a hobby?”
He patted the crate
affectionately. “This sweet thing has been sitting in the bowels of
a ship from Antwerp. You know what the hold of a ship smells like?”
“Actually, I don’t.” She
held a handkerchief to her nose and drew closer. “But I think
you’re correct with the reference to ‘bowels.’”
Hugh took the first nail out.
“Well, stand back, since you’ve become so prissy. Though I recall
a younger version of you leading the rest of us through bogs and
marshes that smelled no better.”
“Of course! But as I recall,
we had frogs and turtles and the occasional dragon that needed
hunting,” she replied with a smile. “Very well. Open it and let’s
see this treasure of yours.”
Prying off the top took him
only a moment. Throwing it to the side, he pulled back the tarp that
covered the basket and then stared curiously at the dark green rags
bundled at the bottom.
Leaning in, Hugh’s
enthusiasm evaporated as a horrid realization settled in. This was no
pile of old clothing. A shock of blond hair. A shoe. A hand. The body
of a dead woman lay curled up in the gondola.
“Bloody hell.”
“What is it?” Immediately,
Jo was at his side. “Good God!”
Hugh climbed in and crouched
beside the body. He took her hand. She was cold to the touch. His
heart sank. The crate had been shipped from Antwerp. To be trapped
for so many days with no water, no food, in the cold and damp of the
ship’s hold. He had no idea who this woman was or how she came to
be in here.
The thought struck him.
Perhaps it wasn’t an inadvertent act. Perhaps she was murdered and
her body had been dumped into the crate.
Dismay and alarm clawed at him
as he pushed away the matted ringlets of golden hair. She was young.
He lifted her chin. The body had none of the stiffness of postmortem.
He stared at her lips. He may have imagined it but they seemed to
have moved.
“Bright . . .” The whisper
was a mere rustle of leaves in a breeze.
The fingers jerked and came to
life, clutching at his hand.
“She’s not dead,” he
called to Jo, relieved. “Send for the doctor. I’ll take her to
the house.”
His sister ran out, calling
for help, and he lifted the woman. She emitted a low groan. Her limbs
had been locked in the same cramped position for so many days. Hugh
propped her over the side of the gondola.
“Stay with me,” he
encouraged. “Talk to me.”
Holding the woman in place, he
clambered from the basket and then gently lifted her out, cradling
her in his arms. She weighed next to nothing.
As they went out into the
rain, he feared she was about to die. The exertion of trying to
breathe showed on her face. He’d seen this on the battlefield. The
final effort before death.
Starting up the path, he
stumbled, not realizing the woman’s skirts were dragging on the
ground. He staggered but caught himself before they went down. Her
head lolled against his chest, her face gray and mask-like. She
appeared to be slipping away. It would be a shame that she’d
survived the crossing only to perish now.
A dagger point of anger
pierced Hugh’s brain as he recalled another dismal day when he’d
lifted two other bodies, wrapped in burial shrouds, from a wooden
box.
“Talk to me,” he ordered.
“Say something.”
As he made his way up the hill
toward the house, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky above
Baronsford. Thunder shook the ground and the sky opened, unleashing
fierce torrents of rain on them.
His wife. His son. Hugh hadn’t
been there for them. They’d died as he and the British army were
being chased by the French across Spain. He’d been trying to save
his men’s lives, not knowing that those most precious to him were
suffering.
“You’ve survived a
horrifying ordeal. Give me the chance to save you.”
The woman struggled weakly in
Hugh’s arms, and her head tipped back. He watched as her lips
parted, welcoming the wetness of the falling rain.
“We’re almost there.”
“Bright . . .” she
murmured.
He looked into her face and
saw she was trying hard to open her eyes.
“Yes, brighter than that
crate,” he said, encouraged by her effort. Any movement, however
small, gave him hope. “And you’ve been in there for Lord knows
how long.”
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The author(s)
Authors
Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May
McGoldrick)
weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Publishing
under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have
written more than thirty novels and works of nonfiction for Penguin
Random House, Mira, HarperCollins, Entangled, and Heinemann. Nikoo,
an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and
publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in
Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English in
northwestern Connecticut. They are the authors of Much
Ado About Highlanders, Taming the Highlander,
and
Tempest in the Highlands
with SMP Swerve.
Author
Links
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