Free Tempting Mr. Weatherstone: A Wallflower Wedding Novella (Originally Appeared in the E-Book Anthology FIVE GOLDEN RINGS) by Vivienne Lorret Page B
Authors: Vivienne Lorret
thoughts. “I’m here to kidnap my would-be bride and take her to Gretna Green.”
She drew in a startled breath, her mouth curving in a wide grin. “But what about our parents? Surely, they will be heartbroken.” However, at the moment, it was difficult to quash her excitement and summon the proper degree of concern.
“Don’t worry, I left a note on your father’s desk,” he said, anticipation glowing brightly in his eyes. “And I left a note for my mother as well.”
“You know, for not having much practice in spontaneity, you are very good at it,” she said, as they walked together out into the hall. There, she saw her traveling cloak and her satchel waiting on the table.
She eyed him speculatively and shook her head, feigning disappointment. “You planned this?”
He shrugged, looking mildly chagrined. “I asked your maid to pack for you last night.”
Once again, Penelope threw her arms around Ethan and kissed him, simply because she could. “Mr. Weatherstone, I love you dearly. You are, by far, the best adventure of all.”
Want more tales of passion from USA Today bestselling author Vivienne Lorret?
Keep reading for a sneak peek at her new series, The Rakes of Fallow Hall, launching in Spring 2015 with
The Elusive Lord Everhart
And don’t miss the rest of her fan-favorite Wallflower Wedding Series, now available from e-retailers:
Daring Miss Danvers
Winning Miss Wakefield
Finding Miss McFarland
Gabriel Ludlow, Viscount Everhart, has no interest in the trappings of marriage. So when he makes a bachelor’s wager for an exorbitant sum, he has little cause for worry. But when the beautiful Calliope Croft suddenly appears on his doorstep, Gabriel must choose between two paths: break her heart all over again, or finally succumb to the love he can no longer deny.
CALLIOPE JOLTED, SITTING upright. Her spine snapped into place with the suddenness of an arrow hitting a target. “Did you just . . . just kiss me?”
“Kiss you?” Everhart asked from behind her, his tone a combination of amusement and disbelief. “Preposterous. You know very well that I’m merely aiding in your recuperation. Nothing untoward. My fingers are here”—he thrummed them over the upper portions of her shoulders to demonstrate. “And my thumbs are here”—he burrowed the tips in a circular motion, directly into the aching knot at the base of her neck.
She tried not to moan, but a soft whimper might have escaped nonetheless.
While he claimed this medicinal massage had been around for centuries, she knew nothing of it. Even so, she never wanted him to stop.
“I distinctly felt something that was neither thumb nor finger on the nape of my neck,” she argued, but with no force behind the words. She found it difficult to summon any censure. Her body hummed pleasantly, as if his hands were massaging every inch of her, instead of merely her shoulders.
“This accusation comes from a wealth of knowledge on your part, does it?” He altered his grip, kneading her flesh with the heels of his hands.
She swallowed down another moan. “Well, no. But I think I would know the diff—”
“There you have it,” he said succinctly. “You would not even know a kiss if it had happened, which it did not . Now tilt your head forward like before, or you will strain yourself again.”
Oh, yes. Every rumor she’d heard about Everhart’s skill with his hands was indeed warranted. Of course, she shouldn’t have paid any attention to what widows whispered behind their fans at balls, but one could not simply forget what one wasn’t supposed to overhear. Those were usually the most interesting bits of conversation.
Still, she could not let her somewhat overactive imagination cause her to lose this argument. Everhart had always been cold to her, so unlike the way he was with everyone else. She longed to discover the mystery behind his changeling behavior. “The flesh that brushed mine was decidedly warmer than your
She drew in a startled breath, her mouth curving in a wide grin. “But what about our parents? Surely, they will be heartbroken.” However, at the moment, it was difficult to quash her excitement and summon the proper degree of concern.
“Don’t worry, I left a note on your father’s desk,” he said, anticipation glowing brightly in his eyes. “And I left a note for my mother as well.”
“You know, for not having much practice in spontaneity, you are very good at it,” she said, as they walked together out into the hall. There, she saw her traveling cloak and her satchel waiting on the table.
She eyed him speculatively and shook her head, feigning disappointment. “You planned this?”
He shrugged, looking mildly chagrined. “I asked your maid to pack for you last night.”
Once again, Penelope threw her arms around Ethan and kissed him, simply because she could. “Mr. Weatherstone, I love you dearly. You are, by far, the best adventure of all.”
Want more tales of passion from USA Today bestselling author Vivienne Lorret?
Keep reading for a sneak peek at her new series, The Rakes of Fallow Hall, launching in Spring 2015 with
The Elusive Lord Everhart
And don’t miss the rest of her fan-favorite Wallflower Wedding Series, now available from e-retailers:
Daring Miss Danvers
Winning Miss Wakefield
Finding Miss McFarland
Gabriel Ludlow, Viscount Everhart, has no interest in the trappings of marriage. So when he makes a bachelor’s wager for an exorbitant sum, he has little cause for worry. But when the beautiful Calliope Croft suddenly appears on his doorstep, Gabriel must choose between two paths: break her heart all over again, or finally succumb to the love he can no longer deny.
CALLIOPE JOLTED, SITTING upright. Her spine snapped into place with the suddenness of an arrow hitting a target. “Did you just . . . just kiss me?”
“Kiss you?” Everhart asked from behind her, his tone a combination of amusement and disbelief. “Preposterous. You know very well that I’m merely aiding in your recuperation. Nothing untoward. My fingers are here”—he thrummed them over the upper portions of her shoulders to demonstrate. “And my thumbs are here”—he burrowed the tips in a circular motion, directly into the aching knot at the base of her neck.
She tried not to moan, but a soft whimper might have escaped nonetheless.
While he claimed this medicinal massage had been around for centuries, she knew nothing of it. Even so, she never wanted him to stop.
“I distinctly felt something that was neither thumb nor finger on the nape of my neck,” she argued, but with no force behind the words. She found it difficult to summon any censure. Her body hummed pleasantly, as if his hands were massaging every inch of her, instead of merely her shoulders.
“This accusation comes from a wealth of knowledge on your part, does it?” He altered his grip, kneading her flesh with the heels of his hands.
She swallowed down another moan. “Well, no. But I think I would know the diff—”
“There you have it,” he said succinctly. “You would not even know a kiss if it had happened, which it did not . Now tilt your head forward like before, or you will strain yourself again.”
Oh, yes. Every rumor she’d heard about Everhart’s skill with his hands was indeed warranted. Of course, she shouldn’t have paid any attention to what widows whispered behind their fans at balls, but one could not simply forget what one wasn’t supposed to overhear. Those were usually the most interesting bits of conversation.
Still, she could not let her somewhat overactive imagination cause her to lose this argument. Everhart had always been cold to her, so unlike the way he was with everyone else. She longed to discover the mystery behind his changeling behavior. “The flesh that brushed mine was decidedly warmer than your
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