Tag Archives: Jude Knight

First Kiss Friday with Jude Knight

27 Friday Mar 2020

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Any day I can welcome my friend Jude Knight to my First Kiss Friday blog is a good day. She certainly has a way of pulling at your heartstrings. Read on to find out what she has in store for you!

This first kiss appears in Paradise Lost, the little collection of vignettes that Jude Knight is currently writing, and that she’ll give away to newsletter subscribers when she publishes the story of James’s son next month, on 15 April. Paradise Lost is a companion piece to Paradise Regained, which is about James. To Wed a Proper Lady is the story of his son, and novel one of six in The Children of the Mountain King.

Excerpt:

Eleanor traced the words in the water that puddled on the stone rim of the fountain. “Lady James Winderfield.” Her lips curved in a tremulous smile. The man she loved was asking her father for her hand, and would soon come to ask her.

“I have made an appointment to meet your father tomorrow,” he had whispered in her ear last night as they promenaded down the centre of the double line of dances. Then, as they passed one another, a few moments later, “You know what I want to ask him, my darling.”

She circled the girl at the head of the ladies’ line, barely aware of the other people in the room, conscious only of James and the words that set her heart thumping. Only years of practice kept her moving gracefully back around to meet James again, her arm stretched high, her hand ready for his brief clasp and her ears for another burst of whispered words.

“This is what you want?”

Looking up, she nodded, and the anxiety cleared from his eyes as they met hers. How could he be unsure of her? She had no further opportunity to reassure him. They had to part and dance down the outside of their respective lines, and the music drew to a close before they could speak again.

Her mother was waiting, and hurried her away. The Earl of Farnmouth, her father, had decided it was time to leave.

He was with her father now, shut in the earl’s study. Soon, surely, the earl would send him out into the garden. The answer would be yes, of course. As the daughter of an earl, she knew her worth, but James was third son of a duke; a duke, furthermore who was a friend of her father.

Eleanor cast a glance at the house and frowned slightly. Lord Farnmouth would say yes. Of course, he would. Only last week, he had interrupted her dinner with her mother to announce that he expected a very eligible offer for Eleanor’s hand. “I am pleased with your daughter, countess,” he had told her mother. “Betrothed after only two months after her debut. You are to be congratulated, madam.”

He had not spoken to Eleanor, but he seldom did. Nor had he given a name, but who could it be but James? James was her most ardent suitor. Indeed, since the rapscallion son of the Duke of Winshire had made her the object of his devotion, the rest of her court had fallen away. They had been callow boys, in any case, standing up with her because of childhood friendship or because she had become fashionable.

James was a man, not a boy — twenty-four years to her seventeen. He was unbelievably handsome, charming, clever, funny, and dearer to her than anyone she had ever known, even her older sister. And he had chosen her! She clapped her hands and spun in a circle, unable to contain her delight.

Soon he would come. She composed herself on the stone bench opposite the path by which he would enter the garden.  How would he propose? On one knee? Sitting beside her? The thought had her up on her feet again, too excited to stay still, peering down the path.

“Eleanor!” It was a hiss just a hairsbreadth above a whisper.

She spun around. James had come from the other direction. Well, no matter. She hurried towards him, her hands outstretched. What was the matter? The tragic expression on his face frightened her. “James? What is the matter?”

He clasped her hands and pulled her after him into the shadows of the yew walk, where he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her hair. “Eleanor, I love you. I love you more than life itself. You believe me, do you not?”

Eleanor pulled away, but only enough to peer into his eyes. “James? What did my father say?”

James groaned.

“James, you are frightening me. Did he say we must wait?”

“Eleanor, he says that he has given your hand to the Duke of Haverford,” James blurted.

Eleanor’s breath stopped and she could hear her blood surging in her ears as her heart pounded. Her sight grew dark at the edges, and the enormous yew hedges swayed towards her as if to batter her into the ground. By force of will, she fought off her faintness. “But… but he is old,” she stammered, “and a wicked libertine, and cold as ice.” She stamped her foot. “I don’t want him, James. I love you. I love you, James.”

“Shush, my love,” James begged. “We must be quiet. Farnmouth told me I could not see you again, but I had to, Eleanor. I’ll find a way. I promise. You love me and I love you. I will ask my father to help. He is friends with yours. Surely Winshire can persuade the earl.”

“Yes!” Eleanor’s heart gave another enormous thump, this time with relief. “We will be together?” she asked.

“We will marry,” James promised. He bent his head and his lips touched hers. It was a gentle, reverent salute, but Eleanor pressed closer and the kiss changed, James’s lips still soft, but questing, moving, devouring. His tongue pressed the seam of her mouth and swept inside when she gasped. Again, the darkness hovered, but this time it was a welcoming warmth, a giving and taking of sensation, a merging of selves so that Eleanor no longer knew who sighed and who moaned, or how long they stayed intertwined.

The whistling of a gardener brought them back to themselves. “I must go,” James told her. “Stay strong, my love. We are meant to be together, and I will find a way.”

“We are meant to be together,” she agreed.

***

The Duchess of Haverford put the rose back into her memory box. It was from a small bouquet he had sent her. She had worn it for that last dance. Now it was fragile, dried and faded, adorned with yet another tear to join all the others she had wept on it in the past ten years. Once, she had loved and been loved. That, at least, would never change.

***

For more about Paradise Regained, see https://judeknightauthor.com/books/paradise-regained/

For more about The Children of the Mountain King series, see https://judeknightauthor.com/the-children-of-the-mountain-king/

For more about To Wed a Proper Lady, including preorder, see https://judeknightauthor.com/books/to-wed-a-proper-lady/

For your copy of Paradise Lost, subscribe to Jude’s newsletter: https://judeknightauthor.com/newsletter/

About Jude Knight:

Have you ever wanted something so much you were afraid to even try? That was Jude ten years ago.

For as long as she can remember, she’s wanted to be a novelist. She even started dozens of stories, over the years.

But life kept getting in the way. A seriously ill child who required years of therapy; a rising mortgage that led to a full-time job; six children, her own chronic illness… the writing took a back seat.

As the years passed, the fear grew. If she didn’t put her stories out there in the market, she wouldn’t risk making a fool of herself. She could keep the dream alive if she never put it to the test.

Then her mother died. That great lady had waited her whole life to read a novel of Jude’s, and now it would never happen.

So Jude faced her fear and changed it–told everyone she knew she was writing a novel. Now she’d make a fool of herself for certain if she didn’t finish.

Her first book came out to excellent reviews in December 2014, and the rest is history. Many books, lots of positive reviews, and a few awards later, she plans to keep publishing until she runs out of years.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Subscribe to newsletter: http://judeknightauthor.com/newsletter/

Bookshop: https://judeknight.selz.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

Pinterest: https://nz.pinterest.com/jknight1033/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jude-knight

Happy Valentine’s Day!

14 Friday Feb 2020

Posted by in 2020

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Happy Valentine’s Day to all our wonderful readers!

I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank all of you for making Fire & Frost a bestselling box set. The Bluestocking Belles and I are thrilled with all the marvelous reviews we’ve been receiving and also for the set hitting several bestseller lists including, Amazon, Goodreads, and Smashwords.

You are the ones to make this happen. Thank you for supporting the Bluestocking Belles by purchasing a copy of Fire & Frost. Your purchase also supports our mutual charity, the Malala Fund. Our readers are the best!

♥ ¸.•*(¸.•*´♥`*•.¸)`*•.♥
Fire & Frost – Only $0.99
Curl up with the gift of a great book this Valentine’s Day. Fire & Frost will warm your heart!
In a winter so cold the Thames freezes over, five couples venture onto the ice in pursuit of love to warm their hearts.
Love unexpected, rekindled, brand new or rediscovered—even one that’s a whack on the side of the head—heats up the winter. After weeks of fog and cold all five stories converge on the ice at the 1814 Frost Fair when the ladies’ campaign to help the wounded and unemployed veterans of the Napoleonic wars culminates in a charity auction that shocks the high sticklers of the ton.
In their 2020 collection, join the Bluestocking Belles and their heroes and heroines as The Ladies’ Society For The Care of the Widows and Orphans of Fallen Heroes and the Children of Wounded Veterans pursues justice, charity, and soul searing romance.
Celebrate Valentine’s Day 2020 with five interconnected Regency romances.
Buy links:
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2LGvSbK
Apple Books: https://apple.co/355nXMG
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2sdPVYd
Kobo: http://bit.ly/36nYwX
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2LF74AK
International:
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2t7vMDH BR: https://amzn.to/2rybx1o CA: https://amzn.to/2Pcnenz DE: https://amzn.to/2E2sIL6 ES: https://amzn.to/2E77hZr FR: https://amzn.to/2RKJc2J IN: https://amzn.to/35bdCPd IT: https://amzn.to/2qIOSz2 JP: https://amzn.to/35c8mLw MX: https://amzn.to/2YATO5r NL: https://amzn.to/2YGzhfR UK: https://amzn.to/2YArBf2

First Kiss Friday with Jude Knight

17 Friday Jan 2020

Posted by in 2020, First Kiss Friday

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Welcome to another First Kiss Friday. Today’s guest is my dear friend Jude Knight who will be sharing the first kiss scene from her upcoming novella Melting Matilda. Happy reading, my lovelies, and enjoy!

First Kiss Friday with Matilda and Charles

In this excerpt from Melting Matilda, a novella in the Bluestocking Belles’ box set Fire and Frost, the kiss is the first one in this book. They had another kiss a year before, and it haunts them. You’ll have to read the book to find out more.

Excerpt:

He had dressed with enormous care, driving his valet demented by changing his mind three times about his waistcoat, rejecting six cravats before settling on the seventh, and hesitating for twenty minutes on his choice of fobs. The valet would probably slit his wrists in despair if he could see how Charles had set his hair in disarray by running his fingers through it, and ruined the hard-won perfection of the cravat by tugging it further open because he felt it choking him.

Then the door opened. Matilda entered the room and he lost his breath again. She was magnificent in a violet gown that hugged her curves before sweeping out into a deceptively simple skirt that avoided fashionable ruffles in favor of more subtle stitching that added detail without fuss. The neckline was low enough to rivet his attention while still high enough to be demure by the current standards. She wore pearls at her neck, her wrists, dangling from her ears and glowing in her dark hair, and the blue eyes he met when he wrenched his attention from the snowy skin displayed by her décolletage had taken on a violet cast from the gown.

He gazed, losing track of time and space, until she said his name. “Charles?”

“I had a speech.” His voice croaked, and he swallowed. “I do not remember a word.”

With one hand, index finger outstretched, he traced an inch or so away from her face. “Why did I try so hard to resist you, you beautiful woman?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Her nostrils flared. “Because I am the base-born daughter of a harlot.”

“I cannot remember why I thought that important,” he confessed. “You are the beloved sister of the next Duke of Haverford, the ward of the current duchess, and a lady of impeccable education, training and manners. That is not why I love you, though.”

Her eyes softened. “You love me?”

“That was part of the speech. It is the only bit I remember. I look into your eyes, and I forget my own name.”

“Why?” Matilda asked.

“Why do I forget? No? Why now?” She colored, and he realized what she was asking. “Why do I love you? How can I explain something that has grown in my heart without my knowledge, even against my will?” He took both of her hands, and suddenly the words began to flow.

“I have been attracted to you since the first time we danced, but that is desire, and desire is a part of love but not the whole. I do desire you, my love, more and more each day, but I also admire you, I like being with you, I enjoy talking to you, I respect you. I want to see you every morning when I wake, to spend my days with you, to have the right to dance the first waltz with you at every ball, and to go home with you every night. I want to see your belly rounded with our child, and watch you as you gently teach them the way I’ve seen you teach your little sister. I want you and only you as my countess and the mother of my children. I want to grow old with you, Matilda Grenford.”

He dropped to one knee. “Miss Grenford, I esteem you with all my heart. Will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

He waited, his anxiety rising as she said nothing, despair taking over as tears rose and began to leak from her pansy eyes. Then she began to nod as she slipped to her own knees and reached out for him. “Yes. Oh, yes. Charles, I love you, too.”

For more than a year, Charles had kept to himself the fact that the Haverford Ice Princess kissed like a flame. As he abandoned his own granite facade for once and for all, he rejoiced in her heat. This time was even better than the last, and the best was yet to come. Though perhaps not here in a family parlor where her brother or sisters could walk in at any time.

“I hope you do not want a long betrothal,” he whispered, between kisses.

She broke off her attempt to completely unravel his cravat. “Not long,” she agreed.

Her fervent answer demanded that he kiss her again, losing himself so deep he didn’t know they were no longer alone until a voice behind him said, “I trust you are betrothed to my sister, Hamner, for it would be most inconvenient to start the evening’s celebrations by killing you.”

Melting Matilda

Her scandalous birth prevents Matilda Grenford from being fully acceptable to Society, even though she has been a ward of the Duchess of Haverford since she was a few weeks old. Matilda does not expect to be wooed by a worthy gentleman. The only man who has ever interested her gave her an outrageous kiss a year ago and has avoided her ever since.

Charles, the Earl of Hamner is honour bound to ignore his attraction to Matilda Grenford. She is an innocent and a lady, and in every way worthy of his respect—but she is base-born. His ancestors would rise screaming from their graves if he made her his countess. But he cannot forget the kiss they once shared.

For more about Fire & Frost, including preorder links, see: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/fire-frost/

About Jude Knight

Have you ever wanted something so much you were afraid to even try? That was Jude ten years ago.

For as long as she can remember, she’s wanted to be a novelist. She even started dozens of stories, over the years.

But life kept getting in the way. A seriously ill child who required years of therapy; a rising mortgage that led to a full-time job; six children, her own chronic illness… the writing took a back seat.

As the years passed, the fear grew. If she didn’t put her stories out there in the market, she wouldn’t risk making a fool of herself. She could keep the dream alive if she never put it to the test.

Then her mother died. That great lady had waited her whole life to read a novel of Jude’s, and now it would never happen.

So Jude faced her fear and changed it–told everyone she knew she was writing a novel. Now she’d make a fool of herself for certain if she didn’t finish.

Her first book came out to excellent reviews in December 2014, and the rest is history. Many books, lots of positive reviews, and a few awards later, she plans to keep publishing until she runs out of years.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Subscribe to newsletter: http://judeknightauthor.com/newsletter/

Bookshop: https://judeknight.selz.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

Pinterest: https://nz.pinterest.com/jknight1033/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jude-knight

First Kiss Friday with Jules and Mia

20 Friday Sep 2019

Posted by in 2019, First Kiss Friday

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It’s First Kiss Friday and it’s always a pleasure when I can bring back my dear friend, Jude Knight. When we get to celebrate a new release, well… that’s even better. We hope you enjoy this excerpt from Unkept Promises. You’re going to just love this book! Happy reading and enjoy.

Seven years after he wed her and left, they meet again

The child bride Jules left in England has changed. She is all grown up and here, uninvited, in his Cape Town house. As they work together to nurse his dying mistress and look after his children, he begins to see that he needs to change as well. In the following excerpt from Unkept Promises, they finally have their first kiss.

Excerpt:

Another piercing look, remembered anguish blazing from his eyes. “It could have been so different.” He put the brandy down to rise and take the two steps needed to drop to his knees at her feet, his hands reaching to frame her face. “I have nightmares, thinking about what I might have come home to, if you had not arrived. I can’t imagine how I would feel now, leaving port knowing that I had to depend on hired servants for the safety of my family. I can never thank you enough.”

He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she put her arms around him, hugging him close. “Ah, Jules. I have only done what I thought right. Besides, I love them. I do not need thanks for looking after the people I love.”

He lifted her chin and began kissing the tears from her cheeks. She shifted so that a kiss fell on the corner of her mouth, and he pulled back a little, but only to say, “It was the luckiest night of my life when I was captured by smugglers and locked up with you.”

Disappointed that he had stopped, she grumbled, “You didn’t think so at the time.” This seduction would never happen if she left it all to him. She summoned her courage and put her hands on his face to keep it still before pressing her mouth on his. He’d better take the hint, because she had no idea what she was doing.

His lips froze, and she almost pulled away, and then, thank goodness, they softened on hers and began to move. Was that his tongue, sweeping across the seam of her mouth? Those were certainly his teeth, nibbling at her lower lip until she gasped at the wonderful sensations that reverberated through her whole body, and would have gasped again when his tongue invaded her mouth, except her mouth was full and she could manage nothing more than a strangled moan.

He clearly took that as approval, for he deepened the kiss, pressing her back against her chair, his body firm against hers, his face angled to allow him to invade even deeper. No. Not an invasion, for she had invited him in. His tongue retreated and then returned, retreated and returned, until she took the hint and allowed her own tongue to follow his. Ah. This invasion could be reciprocal, and she could make him moan, too.

She applied herself enthusiastically to mimicking his actions, learning what he taught, sinking deeper and deeper into the sensations he created.

A timeless period later, Jules ended the kiss; not releasing her but drawing back enough to meet her eyes, his own hot. “Sweet Mia, even then I could tell you’d make a rare woman. Brave, clever, caring. I saw all of that. I knew you’d be pretty, too.”

She wanted to trust he meant it, but it was a little much to swallow. “How can you say that? I look like a boy!”

Jules’s laugh was disbelieving. “Never! A boy?” His hands rounded her body to run over her breasts, paused briefly to cup them, brushed over her nipples which had somehow become so hard that they ached, then skimmed down to her waist. He spread his thumb and fingers to span her waist on both sides. “I can almost touch my fingers together. You are perfect.”

Did he really think so? “I barely have any curves at all,” Mia protested.

Jules pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, as if to stop her words. “I beg to differ.” He moved his hands, one scooping under her buttocks and half lifting her from the chair, the other coming up to once again cup a breast, the thumb rubbing back and forth across the nipple. “Look. Beautifully curved.”

She could barely think as his movement both relieved and intensified the near pain in her nipple. “So small!” she pointed out. “Gerta–”

Another firm quick kiss. “Does not belong between us. Mia, do you not know I have been lusting after you since I arrived home?” Kiss. “Feeling bad about it, too, when at the beginning I thought you had moved Kirana out of her room and dismissed Maureen. I felt the lowest of dogs to desire such a woman.” Kiss. “But as I learned the truth and got to know you, admiring you more and more each day, my desire grew.” His hand kept moving, and the other pulled her closer, until she was plastered to his body, groin to groin, the hardness behind his falls rubbing close to the place of sudden, desperate need. Beguiled, she shifted against him.

“Ah, Mia,” he groaned, “can’t you tell what you do to me? Sleeping in the room next to me while I lie awake, night after night, imagining you are in the bed with me and I can, at last, worship you with my body as I promised so long ago?”

His mouth was on hers again, and his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his hands, his hard body, all drove her to a place where she no longer knew where she was and barely who she was. She only knew that she yearned, hungered, ached—and that Jules could answer that need.

Then he pulled away, and she reached after him before her mind registered what he’d already heard—a burst of conversation as the kitchen door opened and shut again, and then footsteps approaching.

Jules was already back in his seat, his brandy glass in his hand. His hair was ruffled, his neckcloth half untied, but he had shrugged his coat back on as he crossed the room. She caught a glimpse of red swollen lips before he raised the glass to cover them.

She pulled her shawl over a bare breast she didn’t remember Jules exposing, and grabbed her own glass, just as Fortune came through the room on his way to check on the door.

Unkept Promises

She wants to negotiate a comfortable marriage; he wants her in his bed

Naval captain Jules Redepenning has spent his adult life away from England, and at war. He rarely thinks of the bride he married for her own protection, and if he does, he remembers the child he left after their wedding seven years ago. He doesn’t expect to find her in his Cape Town home, a woman grown and a lovely one, too.

Mia Redepenning sails to Cape Town to nurse her husband’s dying mistress and adopt his children. She hopes to negotiate a comfortable married life with the man while she’s there. Falling in love is not on her to-do list.

Before they can do more than glimpse a possible future together, their duties force them apart. At home in England, Mia must fight for the safety of Jules’s children. Imprisoned in France, Jules must battle for his self-respect and his life.

Only by vanquishing their foes can they start to make their dreams come true.

Not your usual Regency: Jude Knight writes historical fiction with a large helping of romance, a splash of Regency, and a side order of suspense.

Buy links:

Books2Read: books2read.com/UnkeptPromises

Jude’s Bookshop: https://judeknight.selz.com/item/unkept-promises

About Jude Knight:

Have you ever wanted something so much you were afraid to even try? That was Jude ten years ago.

For as long as she can remember, she’s wanted to be a novelist. She even started dozens of stories, over the years.

But life kept getting in the way. A seriously ill child who required years of therapy; a rising mortgage that led to a full-time job; six children, her own chronic illness… the writing took a back seat.

As the years passed, the fear grew. If she didn’t put her stories out there in the market, she wouldn’t risk making a fool of herself. She could keep the dream alive if she never put it to the test.

Then her mother died. That great lady had waited her whole life to read a novel of Jude’s, and now it would never happen.

So Jude faced her fear and changed it–told everyone she knew she was writing a novel. Now she’d make a fool of herself for certain if she didn’t finish.

Her first book came out to excellent reviews in December 2014, and the rest is history. Many books, lots of positive reviews, and a few awards later, she plans to keep publishing until she runs out of years.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Subscribe to newsletter: http://judeknightauthor.com/newsletter/

Bookshop: https://judeknight.selz.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

Pinterest: https://nz.pinterest.com/jknight1033/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jude-knight

First Kiss Friday with guest Jude Knight

21 Friday Jun 2019

Posted by in 2019, First Kiss Friday

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Any day I can host my friend Jude Knight on my First Kiss Friday blog is a good day. Today, Jude is taking her back to her very first published romance, Candle’s Christmas Chair. We hope you enjoy this excerpt. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

It was an odd setting for a proposal, but safe. Any place he could be sure of being alone with Min in the house was a place he’d already imagined making love to her in. He wasn’t confident that he could control himself if she accepted his proposal. Or even that he would get to the proposal before…

He had to stop that train of thought. The succession house was becoming less safe by the minute. He was already thinking of the logistics of lovemaking here in the dirt among the seedlings. His coat spread to protect her dress… No. Not here. Quite apart from the respect he owed to an innocent and his future viscountess, he had no intention of consummating his desire in front of a hundred glass panes.

“Min, you know what I want to ask you.”

“I think I do.”

“Will you, Min? Will you make me the happiest of men? Will you marry me?”

“Ran, I am not from your world.”

“I know you are too good for me,” he joked, “but I’m hoping you’re prepared to make the sacrifice.”

“Ran, I am serious. I am the daughter of a carriage maker. You are a peer. Society…”

“Min, I love you. If you love me, then Society can go hang itself.”

“I want to continue making chairs.”

“I hope you will.”

“Really? You would not mind?”

“Min, you have a gift. I want you to use it. Say you will marry me, and I’ll have the bans read. We can be wed before Christmas.”

She withdrew. She didn’t move a muscle, but he felt her pulling into herself, away from him.

“Don’t, Randall.”

His first name in full. That couldn’t be good. But he wasn’t Lord Avery again, which was a hopeful sign.

“Is that a no, Min?”

She shook her head.

“Is it a yes?”

Another head shake.

“Min?” He came up onto his knees in a single motion, and captured her face between both of his hands, looking into her grey eyes.

She collected herself then, his brave little goddess. “When I come back with the chair, I will give you your answer.”

And then she pressed her sweet lips to his and he was lost. With a groan he enfolded her in his arms, slid his hands up behind her head, and deepened the kiss.

It could have been a minute; it could have been months. Time ceased to exist as he explored her mouth and she followed his lead. Her tentative movements, bold and shy at the same time, intoxicated him and he was conscious of nothing but the burning need to sink into her softness. Until a piece of gravel on the path turned as he shifted his knee, and dug into his skin.

He drew away from her with a groan.

Had he done that? Her lips were swollen and red, a sleeve was pulled down baring her shoulder, and one glorious breast was nearly tipped out of her dress. Another nudge, and he’d see…

He blinked, and shook the idea out of his head. “Min, my own dearest love.” He had to be calm. She looked as dazed as he felt. Probably more so, given her innocence. If his world was shaken, hers must be reeling.

“I would help you put yourself to rights, beloved. But I don’t dare touch you.”

She straightened her dress, repinned the lace cap she wore in her hair, rewrapped her shawl around her, all the while sneaking peeks at him and colouring each time their eyes met.

Before they left the succession house, he put a finger on her now clothed arm.

“Min, will you accept my apology, beloved? I meant no disrespect, I promise you. I should never have kissed you. I know how powerfully I react when we touch.”

To his surprise, she suddenly grinned. “Ah but Ran, you forget. I kissed you first.”

Candle’s Christmas Chair
(A novella in the Golden Redepenning series)

Can a viscount and a carriage maker’s daughter find love?

When Viscount Avery comes to see the best invalid chair maker in the southwest of England he does not expect to find Minerva Bradshaw, the woman who rejected him three years earlier. Or did she? Older and wiser, he wonders if there is more to the story.

For three years, Min Bradshaw has remembered the handsome guardsman who courted her for her fortune. She didn’t expect to see him in her workshop, and she certainly doesn’t intend to let him fool her again. Even if he is handsomer and more charming than ever.

Buy links

Jude Knight’s book page https://judeknightauthor.com/books/candles-christmas-chair/

99c as an ebook at the following places.

Selz shop https://judeknight.selz.com/item/candles-christmas-chair

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Candles-Christmas-Chair-Jude-Knight-ebook/dp/B00R2AJDXG/

Amazon print https://www.amazon.com/Candles-Christmas-Chair-Jude-Knight/dp/0473313529/

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About Jude Knight

Jude Knight writes stuff and then tries to figure out how to slot the story into a genre category. Historical romantic suspense? Yes, mostly. She’s mad keen on history, enjoys what happens to people in the crucible of a passionate relationship, and loves to use a good mystery and some real danger as mechanisms to torture her characters.

Since publishing Candle’s Christmas Chair in time for Christmas in 2014, Jude has followed up with six novels and a heap of shorter stories, and plans to keep going till she runs out of years. In her other identity as Judy Knighton, she is a plain language consultant specialising in contracts, insurance policies, and financial disclosure statements. Fiction is more fun.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

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First Kiss Friday with Jude Knight

01 Friday Feb 2019

Posted by in 2019, First Kiss Friday

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Welcome to another First Kiss Friday. Please help me welcome my dear friend Jude Knight who will give you an excerpt from her novella The Beast Next Door from the Bluestocking Belles’ box set, Valentines From Bath! Happy reading and enjoy.

Excerpt:

“Are you cross with me for not kissing you, Charis?” Eric’s voice had dropped to a husky purr, and again, his thumb touched her, this time tracing her lips. “I was afraid.”

Without her volition, Charis turned her head to follow his hand as he went to draw it away. “A—afraid?” she stammered.

“You and I have been alone, dolcezza mia; no chaperone to protect your honor—and mine, for I feared that once I started I would be unable to stop. I long for you so. I imagine how soft your lips will be, how you will melt in my arms, how you would look…” he stopped, catching his lower lip in his teeth.

Charis blushed. “Did we need a chaperone, Eric?”

“You doubt it?” He lowered his face towards hers, slowly. Perhaps he was trying not to startle her. Perhaps he wanted to give her time to turn her head or to pull away. Charis waited, lifting her face to make her lips more accessible.

He was right to call himself a scoundrel, for he stopped just a couple of inches away. When he made no further move, she lifted onto her toes and closed the distance.

Eric greeted her initiative with an approving murmur, his mouth cruising in small kisses along hers. Was that his tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth? She opened her mouth to ask, and it darted inside, sending a bolt of sensation all the way to her female places. Dimly, she was aware of one large hand lifting her derrière, holding her up. Just as well. Without that support, she would have fallen from his lap, although how she had arrived in such a scandalous position she could not have said.

She essayed a foray with her own tongue and was rewarded by Eric’s groan as his hand pulled her even closer to his body, and something hard dug into her hip. She wriggled, and he groaned again, pulling away a fraction of an inch to say. “Amore mio,” in a strangled moan.

Charis wanted to moan herself. Her breasts felt hot and heavy, and the lower part of her torso was uncomfortable, as if each kiss pierced through to that forbidden place. She wanted. She gripped Eric’s nape and pulled him back to her mouth, and that both eased the ache and made it worse.

When Eric’s free hand first brushed and then cupped one of her breasts, she leaned into the new sensation eagerly, her own hands roaming down from Eric’s neck to the bare skin under his banyan. The hand behind her tugged her closer. “Bellisima,” Eric murmured.

Perhaps Eric could move whatever he had in the pocket of the silk trousers he wore under his banyan. “Something is digging into me,” she whispered, shifting uneasily.

It was the wrong thing to say. Eric stilled, and then lifted his head. With both hands on her hips, he shifted back onto the seat beside him, then tucked her head against his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you, dearest Charis,” he said.

“For the kiss?”

“Yes, definitely for the kiss. And for reminding me that you are an innocent and I am a gentleman who greatly esteems you and wishes to cherish you for all our days.” He was breathing hard, as if he had run a considerable distance, and Charis, too, felt short of breath.

The Beast Next Door in
Valentines From Bath
Just $0.99!

 

In all the assemblies and parties of Bath, no-one Charis met could ever match the beast next door.

Charis Fishingham has always felt more at home at Eastwood—Beastwood, as the neighbours called it, after the flawed child who once lived there. In the Eastwood gardens, Charis can escape her mother’s expectations, her sisters’ chatter, and her own worries about her future. There, she reads and remembers her secret friend, long gone into exile to have his birthmarks removed at his family’s command.

Now the Beast has returned. Eric Lord Wayford would rather face the surgeons of Naples and Napoleon’s armies than the tongues of the ton. He joyfully greets Charis, and their future looks to be full of hope.

But someone does not wish Charis to wed the Beast of Beastwood, and will stop at nothing to keep them apart.

25% of the proceeds benefit our mutual charity, the Malala Fund.

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About Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

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Email: jude@judeknightauthor.com

 

First Kiss Friday with guest Jude Knight

02 Friday Nov 2018

Posted by in 2018, First Kiss Friday

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It’s always a pleasure to have my dear friend Jude Knight as a guest author for First Kiss Friday. It’s even better when we get to help her celebrate a brand new release! Don’t you just love everything about this cover? This excerpt is from House of Thorns. Bear has asked Rosa to marry him, and she has requested time to consider. Happy reading!

Excerpt:

In the early dawn, when she served him coffee and a plate loaded with food to fuel his morning’s work, he did not pester her for a decision, but he returned early for lunch, driven home by a heavy shower.

“Have you had enough time to think, Miss Neatham?” he asked, as he entered the kitchen door and interrupted her bread making.

“Yes, Mr. Gavenor.”

He stripped off his rainwear and advanced on her with hands outstretched. “Yes, you have had time to think? Or yes, you will marry me?”

Rosa blushed, and allowed him to capture her hands.

“Yes, I will marry you, Mr. Gavenor.”

He bent from his great height and brushed her lips with his. “Then you had better call me Bear, as my friends do. Or Hugh, if you prefer. My great aunt used to call me Hugh.”

“Hugh, then. Thank you, Hugh. I shall try to be a good wife.”

He kissed her again, another butterfly touch of the lips, then put his hands on her waist and lifted her to sit on the dresser. Now her face was level with his.

“That is better,” he murmured against her mouth. Then his lips met hers again, not a mere brush this time, but a gentle and inexorable advance, setting her lips tingling and taking her breath. His hands slid behind her, pulling her against his chest, so he stood between her open knees, his body pressed tightly to hers.

No, just one hand hugged her, for the other came up behind her head, and tipped it slightly, holding it in place as his lips moved against hers and his tongue swept the seam of her shut mouth once, twice, and again. He hummed with satisfaction when she parted her lips a little, letting his tongue dart inside, and her whole body hummed with pleasure.

Pelman had subjected her to a kiss once; an awkward, embarrassing thing, with her twisting to escape and him boxing her into a corner and pawing her body while he slobbered on her face. The new Lord Hurley, who had also propositioned her when he first arrived at the Hall, had respected her refusal. In fact, he had rather avoided her, and had left again not long after the will was read.

Pelman laughed when she said ‘no’ and waylaid her when she was alone. It had, until now, been her only experience of the pastime, and she had not seen the appeal.

It was very different being the focus of Bear’s undivided attention, the recipient of his tender passion.

She lost herself in the new feelings, grasping his shoulders to bring herself closer to his body, trying her best to imitate the movements of his mouth and tongue.

He pulled away, and rested his forehead on hers, still holding her close. “We had best stop, Rosabel. You are to be my wife, and worthy of all respect, and I have no intention of tupping you on the kitchen dresser. At least, not until we are wed.”

Rosa reluctantly let him go, and he stepped back a little so he could lift her down to the floor. She was pleased to see he looked almost as dazed as she felt. “Would you call me Rosa?” she asked.

“If you wish, though Rosabel suits you. Beautiful rose. My beautiful Rosa.” He still held her waist, and he leaned forward to drop a kiss on her hair. “I will move to the village this afternoon, Rosa, and will ask the rector to post the banns tomorrow.”

His rose thief comes with a scandal that threatens to tear them apart.

Retired exploring officer Bear Gavenor has fled the marriage mart for the familiarity of his work; restoring abandoned country manors to sell to the newly rich. He doesn’t expect to find a potential wife stealing his roses.

Lying gossip has driven Rosa Neatham from respectable employment, and now she has been turned out of her home to make way for the new owner. But a fleeting return to collect some roses for her ailing father changes her fortunes.

In a marriage that offers more inconvenience than convenience, can this unlikely couple beat gossip, misunderstandings, and their own self doubts to find happiness?

Buy links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07JWCZW55/

About Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

Pinterest: https://nz.pinterest.com/jknight1033/

Email: jude@judeknightauthor.com

 

First Kiss Friday with guest Jude Knight

19 Friday Oct 2018

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Today on First Kiss Friday, I’d like to introduce fellow Bluestocking Belle Jude Knight and her characters from our joint box set, FOLLOW YOUR STAR HOME. We just know you’re going to love getting to know James and his wife Mahzad! Happy reading and take it away, Jude!

This excerpt is the first kiss for James and Mahzad in Paradise Regained, my contribution to the Bluestocking Belles’ 2018 holiday box set, Follow Your Star Home. My hero and heroine have been married for more than a decade, and have eight children, but they’ve been separated for months, and distant with one another for longer still.

James has arrived home to find a small army camped outside their gates demanding the heads of his in-laws, and Mahzad is horrified when a woman claiming to be his mistress turns up shortly afterwards. Their confrontation turns into something else in the following excerpt.

Excerpt:

“What?” He ignored the provocation of her description of Cecily. She was offended that he held the meeting without her? “I thought to take a burden off you when your father was so ill. I meant no insult, Mahzad. You should know that.”

“How?” she demanded. “By mindreading? I have lost my magic abilities, oh inscrutable one. My genie is in retirement.” She turned away, her voice dropping. “I have no idea why you do the things you do, except that I know I am a burden to you. I am sorry to inconvenience you and your father by continuing to exist.”

Exasperating female. Would she stick to the point?

“What the devil do you mean now? What has my father got to do with it?”

“He wants you to come back to England,” Mahzad accused. “Your ‘oh so dear’ Cecily told me, and Peter and Yousef confirmed it.” She sniffed and tossed her head. “You will not go because I am an embarrassment to you.”

“Like hell you are,” James snapped. “Neither of them said that, and if they did, it isn’t true.”

She was avoiding his eyes, bending over her weapons, putting the arrows neatly away into the quiver and unstringing the bow. “They said you refused to go and that you told your father’s men that you would not leave your wife.” She whirled back to face him, snarling in her turn. “I say little difference if you did, since you are never here anyway and spend no time with me when you are.”

James was reeling from her dozen blows, some of which had got completely under his guard, but this last remark matched so closely to his own feelings about Mahzad that he struck back.

“You’re the one who is always busy and who never has time for me. You are too busy being katan and mother and friend to everyone in the valley. You’ve made it more than clear you don’t need me, and you don’t want me around.” He took a step closer toward her, crowding her against the table. “But this is my valley. They are my children. You are my wife. It’s about time you remembered that.”

He seized her and forced his mouth down on hers, intending a punishing kiss that overwhelmed her defenses and reminded her he was master in this area as in others, but she met his force with her own passion, softening under his invasion, molding her body to his as she clutched his head to pull him closer. His original intent forgotten, he poured all his longing into the kiss, trying to communicate his love and his frustration, losing himself in the touch and smell and sound of this one woman who was to him above all others.

Until she broke the kiss and shoved him away. “I cannot believe you blame me for all this,” she said. “Just like a man.”

And she stalked away, leaving him alone.

 

Jude’s novella, Paradise Regained, is set in the Kopet Dag mountains north of Iran. Silk Road routes skirted the mountains on both sides and snaked through them. The year is 1794, and though the Silk Roads had long been closed to Europe, trade and travel between the Middle East and the Far East was far from over. Jude’s hero and heroine have established a kingdom in the mountains and a business protecting caravans from bandits and marauding tribes.

Paradise Regained will be published in Follow Your Star Home [https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/follow-your-star-home/], the Bluestocking Belles’ holiday collection for 2019.

Paradise Regained

James Winderfield yearns to end a long journey in the arms of his loving family. But his father’s agents offer the exiled prodigal forgiveness and a place in Society — if he abandons his foreign-born wife and children to return to England.

With her husband away, Mahzad faces revolt, invasion and betrayal in the mountain kingdom they built together. A queen without her king, she will not allow their dream and their family to be destroyed.

But the greatest threats to their marriage and their lives together is the widening distance between them. To win Paradise, they must face the truths in their hearts.

About Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

Jude writes everything from Hallmark to Regency Noir, in different eras and diverse places, short, medium and extra long. Expect decent men with wounded hearts, women who are stronger than they think, and villains you’ll want to smack or worse.and all with a leavening of humour.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

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First Kiss Friday with guest Jude Knight & a FREE eBook

15 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by in 2018, First Kiss Friday

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Welcome, my lovelies, to another First Kiss Friday with my friend Jude Knight. We’ll be turning up the heat with this excerpt and be sure to get your #FREE copy because everyone enjoys a freebie and Jude’s writing is exceptional! Take it away, Jude!

Thank you, Sherry. This excerpt is from The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle. My hero and heroine met for the first  time a few hours earlier, at their wedding. They’ve been forced to marry, and threatened with dire consequences if they do not immediately consummate the marriage. (His sister and her brother want an infant they can control to be the holder of Rupert’s title.

Rupert and Madeline are both virgins, so they need to follow their instincts and whatever information they’ve picked up from breeding animals (he breeds farm horses, she breeds dogs). Plus Rupert’s vague memory of some naughty pictures he saw when he was eleven, before the accident that made him blind.

Excerpt:

Madeline hardly noticed the chill of the night air bringing goosebumps to her arms as she gaped at her new husband. She had known, of course, that men were different than women. He was angular where she was curved, his shoulders broad and muscular, his chest tightly defined planes. Where her skin was smooth and bare, his bore dark hair in the shape of a rough cross, the horizontal reaching from side to side, the vertical arrowing down to…

Her mouth dried as her eyes followed to where the line pointed. More dark curls, and among them, thicker and longer than she expected, his…  Her kennel master called it a pizzle, but no dog had one that size! Of course, dogs were smaller altogether, and puppies, too, much smaller than a human child, and some people clearly enjoyed what was about to occur if the scandalous behaviour at harvest time could be taken in evidence.

Lady Wyvern, too, undoubtedly allowed Graviton… So it wasn’t just the lower orders, and why would it be? A pedigree showed no more discretion than a mongrel when in heat, and the kennel hands needed to be alert to keep a determined bitch confined so she didn’t…

He was reaching for her again, and all the words chattering on in her head tumbled to silence when she dragged her fascinated gaze upward to his intent face.

“May I?” He was asking for permission to touch her, and his courtesy was reassuring. Suddenly bold, she moved forward so his hands encountered her left arm and her right breast, and she put her own hands deliberately on his chest. Husbands could touch wives, of course. But surely wives could also touch husbands?

***

Rupert froze. She had her hands on him, resting softly on his body, just above his nipples. Would she move them? Would she explore him as he did her? Oh, he hoped so! He set the example, stroking his hand down her arm to the elbow and then inward, to curve around her waist and draw her nearer, at the same time cupping whatever his other hand had fallen upon. Her breast, it must be. It filled his hand beautifully, and the skin was soft, like warm satin, like the nose of a new-born foal.

The scent of citrus teased his nostrils again, and he bent closer to inhale. Yes. It was her hair. “You smell of lemons and violets,” he murmured, hardly aware he was speaking, with so much of his mind absorbed in documenting the feel of her skin, of her curves, and revelling in the slow, halting movements of her hands as she shaped the muscles of his chest, his shoulders, his upper arms, then back to his chest.

Where would she touch next? His own hand traced the flare of her hips, then reached further to curve his long fingers around one buttock, as his other hand continued to stroke the breast, brushing over the… did they call it a teat in a woman? No. Nipple. It was a nipple. He took it between two fingers and rubbed gently, and Madeline squirmed, rubbing up against him.

She spoke, her voice sounding as distracted as he felt. “My hair.”

“Mmmm?” What about her hair? He reluctantly let go of her breast and felt his way up the side of her face to run his fingers into her hair. It was silky and fine, and stray tendrils clung to his skin, escaped from the tight plait.

“I perfume the soap with oil of violets and use lemon verbena in the rinse water,” Madeline explained. His question. She was answering the question he had forgotten asking.

He let his hand drift down to her breast again, and she shivered as it ran over her naked skin. He should tell her what he wanted, but if he asked her to take his shaft in her hands, she might be offended. He should be more subtle, perhaps. “Do you like that? I like the way you are touching me.”

“I like it,” she repeated.

Coaxing her to describe what she liked, asking her specific questions, telling her how her hands felt on his chest, his flanks, his arms—it excited him further but, paradoxically, helped him to keep from flinging himself on top of her. Mating had its own rhythm, just as music did, and his wife was not a mare to correct him with her teeth and hooves if he rushed her. He would need to repeat the same motifs in all their variant forms until the symphony reached its exposition, the fulfilment of the primary melody.

At his gentle urging, she became bolder, and firmer in her strokes, her hands tending closer to what he hoped would be their goal.

As he caressed her, he formed an image in his mind. She was small, much smaller than he, and curved in interesting ways, from her soft arms to the globes of her breasts, bigger than he expected, but still small enough for him to cup with one hand. Below the breasts, her body narrowed to a tiny waist he could span with his long fingers, and then flared out again. He brushed his hand across the soft curls he found in the spot he yearned for. He had curls in the same place, but otherwise, she was completely different.

Kissing her behind the ear, which made her squirm with what he hoped was pleasure, he dipped a finger down from the curls into the one part of her body he had not explored. She was warm and wet, and he was fascinated by the folds of skin he found. Completely different.

She pushed herself against him when he found the place he would soon be filling. The part he would use was throbbing and twitching with eagerness. He would spend if he did not soon enter her, and his tutor had always assured him that spending, except as God commanded¾in marriage and in one’s wife¾was a wicked sin that would send him to hell. Well, now he had a wife, and she was ready, surely?

“Are you ready?” he asked, just to be certain.

“Rupert,” she answered, pushing herself still harder, and he took that as a yes, lifting himself over her. He guided his tip to her entrance and then could wait no longer. With a surge, he was fully seated, and it felt wonderful. Better than he had imagined.

He had plunged several times before he realised she was not moving. With a mighty effort, he froze in place. “Madeline? Are you all right?” She was rigid below him, and though the tightness felt wonderful, he did not think she was enjoying it.

“It hurts,” she said, voice trembling with tears.

“I’m sorry.” He made to pull out, cursing the ignorance that had caused him to hurt this little wife he had somehow acquired. But she held onto him, both hands gripping his hips.

“No. It is feeling better now. I am not… Stay. Please.”

And because he wanted to, he let himself be persuaded, but held as still as he could while he kissed her, horrified to find her cheeks wet under his searching lips.

“I hurt you,” he grieved, and again tried to pull away. Again, she held him in place. “I am better, Rupert. It feels good. Please stay.”

He rested his weight on his elbows, caged her face with his hands, and covered her with kisses, trying to focus on the meeting of their lips while his hips trembled with the need to surge and pump.

She met him with her own lips, pressing little kisses all over his face, and after a long moment, he could feel the tension in her ease. Slowly, cautiously, ready to clamp the iron control back over the animal within, he eased slightly away and then back. Again. And again.

When she began tentatively lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, he could hold himself in check no longer. His body took over as his mind, his sensations, his whole universe narrowed to the heaven of the elusive, approaching, present, completed release.

Hand-Turned Tales

The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle is a novella in Jude’s free book of lunch-time reads, Hand-Turned Tales.

Hand-Turned Tales is designed so that readers can try Jude’s story-telling before they buy her other books. Or, if you already like her books, enter her fictional world again in four different situations

In The Raven’s Lady, Felix returns home in disguise after 13 years. He plans to catch a smuggler then take up his viscountcy. He does not expect the smuggler to be Joselyn, his childhood sweetheart. (Short story: 5,500 words)

In Kidnapped to Freedom, Phoebe is stolen away from her plantation by a handsome masked pirate. (Short story: 5,100 words)

All that Glisters is set in New Zealand in the 1860s, a time when gold miners poured into the fledgling settlement of Dunedin. Rose is unhappy in the household of her fanatical uncle. Thomas, a young merchant from Canada, offers a glimpse of another possible life. If she is brave enough to reach for it. (Short story: 13,000 words)

The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle is a gothic historical romance set in the world of my novels and novella. Rupert has been imprisoned by his wicked sister, and forced to wed. His new wife, Madeline, has likewise been threatened into saying her vows. Forced into marriage, they find love, but can they find freedom before it is too late? The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle is a prequel to Revealed in Mist.  (Novella: 23,500 words)

Links and more information: https://judeknightauthor.com/books/hand-turned-tales/

About Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

She writes historical novels, novellas, and short stories, mostly set in the early 19th Century. She writes strong determined heroines, heroes who can appreciate a clever capable woman, villains you’ll love to loathe, and all with a leavening of humour.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Subscribe to newsletter: http://judeknightauthor.com/newsletter/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

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Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Jude-Knight/e/B00RG3SG7I

First Kiss Friday with Jude Knight

11 Friday May 2018

Posted by in 2018, First Kiss Friday

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Welcome to another First Kiss Friday. I’m always excited when my guest Jude Knight has a new book out (currently up for pre-order) and we get a look into the incredible world she creates. This excerpt is from The Realm of Silence. Gil and Susan are pursuing Susan’s missing daughter up the Great North Road. This morning, they are having breakfast in the garden of the inn before resuming the chase. They are discussing where to stay when they reach Edinburgh. Happy reading and enjoy!

Excerpt:

“Best we take rooms at the coaching inn our runaways are headed to,” Gil agreed. “If Mademoiselle Cornillac follows her usual practice, she’ll talk about the next day’s destination to the ostlers, and we’ll know where to head.”

“Unless Edinburgh is her destination.”

“Even so. Someone at the inn may have overheard something, or your clever daughter may have found a way to leave a message. We start at the inn.” The pie Gil had chosen was filled with eggs and cubes of ham, potato, and carrot. He savoured the flavours then took another bite, relishing the crispness of the pastry.

Susan was washing her turnover down with a swallow of ale, shifting impatiently as her hands inched towards the knife and fork she had placed on her plate between mouthfuls, as proper table etiquette required. Her inclination to rush the meal and be on her way was clearly at war with her training in manners.

“Relax, Susan. A few minutes will make the world of difference to your digestion, and very little to our arrival time.”

What a valiant creature his Goddess was. She managed a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know you are right, you annoying man. I will try not to worry and to be patient.

“You are thinking I have no notion what you are suffering, and you are right. I have never been a father and have never had to wait and worry about a child of my flesh.” Gil almost left it at that, but then he took a deep breath and spoke the rest of his thought. “But I have been an officer with men I loved and who loved and trusted me, and I have had to send them into danger knowing that some of them will be killed and others wounded. That perhaps gives me a small inkling of your feelings, Goddess.” He winced as the last word slipped out. She hated when people called her that, but it was how he felt. He had worshipped her from the moment he met her as a boy; carried a candle before her image in his heart since that day; held her as a beacon of the best of English womanhood through a thousand engagements on four continents and any number of islands.

She was oblivious to his preoccupation, considering what he had said. “I had not thought about it like that. Yes. I imagine you were a father, or at least an elder brother, to your men. My brothers are the same. It is similar, Gil. So, you know how hard it is.”

Susan called him Gil, he noticed, when she was moved, just as he slipped into calling her Goddess. He did not call her attention to the slip, but when he moved her chair back to help her rise, and she stepped to one side almost into his arms, he could not resist wrapping them around her.

He had intended a brief peck on her hair. She lifted her mouth as if she had been waiting for just such a move, and he was lost. She was all that existed. The elusive scent of her saturated his nostrils, her yielding curves filled his arms, and her lips and mouth consumed all of his thoughts as he tenderly explored them.

How long the kiss lasted he had no idea, but when she stiffened and pulled away, he let her go immediately, sense rushing back into his brain and berating it for the most arrant stupidity. She didn’t comment—wouldn’t even meet his eyes—but led the way out of the garden, almost running in her hurry.

The Realm of Silence

(Book 3 in the Golden Redepennings series)

Rescue her daughter, destroy her dragons, defeat his demons, go back to his lonely life. How hard can it be?

“I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved…  the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave.” George Eliot

When Susan Cunningham’s daughter disappears from school, her pleasant life as a fashionable, dashing, and respectable widow is shattered. Amy is reported to be chasing a French spy up the Great North Road, and when Susan sets out in pursuit she is forced to accept help from the last person she wants: her childhood friend and adult nemesis, Gil Rutledge.

Gil Rutledge has loved Susan since she was ten and he a boy of twelve. He is determined to oblige her by rescuing her daughter. And if close proximity allows them to rekindle their old friendship, even better. He has no right to ask for more.

Gil and Susan must overcome danger, mystery, ghosts from the past, and their own pride before their journey is complete.

Preorder links and more information: http://judeknightauthor.com/books/the-realm-of-silence/

About Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

She writes historical novels, novellas, and short stories, mostly set in the early 19th Century. She writes strong determined heroines, heroes who can appreciate a clever capable woman, villains you’ll love to loathe, and all with a leavening of humour.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

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