by Tarah Scott and Laura Chandler
Sexy Regency Romance
Part of a series but may be read as a standalone HEA
She intends to win the race. He intends to win her heart...
Evan MacLaren prefers to find his thrills on the high seas. Stormy waters might be fickle, but not as fickle as a woman—particularly a high-spirited widow. Yet Lady Carr’s adventurous spirit calls to him just as the sea does. Here is a woman who will never bore him. A woman who is as free and dangerous as any ocean. And he must have her.
Twice widowed, Lady Leslie Carr has never been in love. That suits her just fine. She is better off without a man. Oh, they can be very agreeable on a cold winter night or a walk in the garden. Beyond those pleasurable moments, however, they are a bore.
So why does a young buccaneer haunt her dreams?
Other Books in The Marriage Maker and the Widows Series:
Rake Ruiner by Summer Hanford
Marrying the Belle of Edinburgh by Lisa Boero
Widow's Treasure by Mary Lancaster
All may be read as standalone HEA stories.
Purchase from Kindle for .99
Also Available to read free with your Kindle Unlimited subscription.
“Lady Carr, may I introduce Mr. Evan MacLaren.” Sir Stirling sidestepped.
Mr. MacLaren turned to Leslie. She extended her hand. He grasped her gloved fingers. His warmth penetrated the fabric and a frisson of awareness raced up her arm. Those intense eyes locked with hers as he lifted her hand and pressed his mouth against her fingers. An all-too-familiar tingling radiated through her stomach. This young man was another charmer, and probably quite dangerous. But it would take a dangerous man to be a sailor these days—particularly a British privateer in Napoleon’s war.
Desire to learn more about Evan MacLaren flared to life. Leslie started. Such a compelling need was dangerous, for this younger son of a viscount was not wealthy. A handsome youth with no title and no money—the Zeus was a war ship filled with soldiers, not treasure, which meant Mr. MacLaren received a paltry sum from His Majesty in thanks for risking his life. He had no prospects besides improving his lot through marriage.
He released her hand and she was startled to realized she missed his warmth. Nae. She didn’t need complications. She enjoyed affairs with peers. Gentlemen who enjoyed their freedom as much as they enjoyed pleasure and luxury. The memory of a Season spent fending off ardent, false avowals of love, and promises of matrimonial bliss, made her tired. Even as a virgin, she hadn’t relished hurting a man. She would say her goodnights, go straight to her bedchamber and, in the morning, she would leave this party.
Those blue eyes still stared.
She opened her mouth to make her excuses.
“A waltz.” Sir Stirling’s remark caught her off guard.
“Might I have this dance?” asked Mr. MacLaren.
Leslie started to say nae, you may not have this dance, and you know perfectly well why, but Alice cut in, and said, “The waltz is your favorite of all dances, Leslie. You need a partner worthy of you. Give this young man a whirl.” She grinned.
Leslie angled her head in Mr. MacLaren's direction. “Do you dance the waltz, Mr. MacLaren?”
He lifted a brow. “Quite well, ma'am.”
“There you have it,” Alice said. “Sir Stirling can sit and chat with me while you two dance.” She looked up at Sir Stirling expectantly.
He gave a slight bow. “I would be honored, my lady.”
Mr. MacLaren extended his hand toward her. She placed her hand in his and he held her steady as she rose. The pressure of his fingers on hers in the instant before he released her made her wonder what it would be like to have those fingers grasping the back of her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss. She repressed a shiver.
“Is anything wrong, my lady?” he asked.
Leslie shook her head. “Not a thing.”
He stared for a moment, and she thought she detected amusement in his eyes, but couldn't be sure. He was a cool character. He extended his hand and she placed hers atop the back of his hand. He led her toward the dance floor. By the time they reached the dancers, the waltz was in full swing. He surprised her by whirling her around to face him and stepping in between two couples, then twirling her so hard that her dress flared. The press of his leg against her inner thigh caused her mouth to go dry. Pure muscle. He dodged a couple while turning her in another tight circle.
She couldn't prevent a laugh. “I see you are, indeed, an excellent dancer.”
“My mother insisted upon lessons from the time I was ten.”
“Ten? You jest.”
His mouth ticked up with the hint of a rueful smile. “On my honor, I speak the truth. My mother believes that the making of a gentleman takes a lifetime of learning.”
“What say you, Mr. MacLaren? Was your mother right?”
He sidestepped a couple who came perilously close to them, then turned in time to the music, skirting the edge of the dance floor. “My mother is alive and well. I would never think to gainsay her. Mothers have a way of knowing such things even when very far away from their children.”
Leslie laughed again, as much for the straight-faced way in which he delivered this information, as the fact that she thought he actually believed it. “Your mother sounds like an interesting woman.”
His expression softened. “She is.”
He spoke the words with more fondness than was fashionable. That surprised her. This young man, so controlled, had a soft spot for his mama.
“What of you, my lady?” he asked. “What do you believe makes a man a gentleman?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Not being impertinent with a lady.”
“I have a feeling that impertinence is something you know a great deal of.”
She lifted a brow. “That is something a gentleman would never point out.”
The rueful smile returned. “I imagine my mother is right then. Becoming a gentleman takes a lifetime of work. I beg you, do not tell her that I have failed so miserably.”
The man had a flare for drama. What an interesting contradiction.
Leslie met the gaze of Lady Handley as her partner whirled her past. Married eight years, Lady Handley was a woman dissatisfied with her situation. The disapproving look she affected was undone by the jealousy reflected in her eyes.
“I don't think Lady Handley cares for you,” Mr. MacLaren said.
“A gentleman wouldn't point that out, either,” she said.
“Perhaps you ought to give me lessons on how to be a gentleman. No doubt, my poor mother would be grateful for the help.”
Leslie tilted her head so that she was forced to look at him through her lashes. “I am not such a fool as to believe that is the lesson she would have me teach you, young sir.”
He lifted a dark brow. “Are you implying that I need lessons in making love to a woman?”
She misstepped. His arm tightened around her waist and he yanked her close, keeping time with the music. Her heart thundered.
His gaze darkened. “I see the idea has its appeal.”
“You are rather abominable, you know.” She cursed the breathless note in her voice. She was no green girl. What was wrong with her?
“My—”
“Let me guess,” Leslie cut in. “Your mother has told you this often.”
Genuine amusement lit his eyes this time. “She has, in fact.”
The music crescendoed and she realized the dance would soon end. Disappointment stabbed.
She regarded him. “I imagine she has also told you that you are trouble.”
His brows shot up. “She has warned me that I will find myself in trouble.”
Leslie gave a slow nod. “Then I imagine she was sparing her feelings, for you are trouble.”
His gaze bore into her. “I understand you, too, have a penchant for trouble.”
Tarah Scott
Internationally bestselling author Tarah Scott cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the Wind as a close second. She writes modern classical romance, and paranormal and romantic suspense. Tarah grew up in Texas and currently resides in Westchester County, New York with her daughter and their pet rats.
Laura Chandler
Laura Chandler spent her childhood daydreaming of historical castles,stately manor houses, garden mazes and tales of happily-ever-afters. She loves books, music and cats and shares life with her husband of twenty-nine years.
