Lord Sin
The Infamous Lord Sin Had Taken A WifeIan Sinclair, the lord of ill repute, had married a country vicar's daughter. Now he was sure there'd be the devil to pay, for the passionate Mary Fulton was the woman he held above all others, and a woman he knew he didn't deserve.The more she learned of Ian's world of privilege, the more Mary Fulton realized how impossible their union really was. Yet the web of gentle passion woven on their wedding night grew stronger with every touch they shared… !
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Table of Contents
âWhy, you insufferable beast!"
Mary took a deep breath, her hands going to her hips.
Ianâs gaze slid down, pausing for a moment on her bosom before he looked back at her face. Only then did she recall that she had unbuttoned the neck of her dress. She knew that if she looked down there would be far more of her showing than she wished. Even as the thought swept through her mind, he smiled knowingly and she felt a deep flush of heat move down her throat and over her breasts. His next words drove all thought of retaining a pose of unconcern from her mind.
âIf you keep standing there looking so completely desirable, Miss Fulton, I just might kiss you again.â
Her arms came up to shield her bosom from his view. âYou, my Lord Sinclair, are despicable. No wonder they call you Lord Sin.â
Dear Reader,
Catherine Archer is fast gaining a reputation for her dramatic and emotional historical romances, and this monthâs Lord Sin with its brooding hero and Gothic overtones will surely add to it. Pressured by his estranged father to marry, a rakish nobleman, in an act of defiance, marries a vicarâs daughter who is outspoken, educated and beautiful, but completely unsuitable, and gains a wife who can finally teach him the meaning of trust and love.
In Elizabeth Mayneâs Lady of the Lake, a pagan princess surrenders her heritage and her heart to the Christian warrior who has been sent to marry her and unite their kingdoms. And Cally and the Sheriff by Cassandra Austin, is a lively Western about a Kansas sheriff who falls head over heels for the feisty young woman heâs sworn to protect, even though she wants nothing to do with him.
Our fourth title for the month is The Marriage Mishap by Judith Stacy, the story of virtual strangers who wake up in bed together and discover they have gotten married.
Whatever your tastes in reading, we hope you enjoy all of our books, available wherever Harlequin Historicals are sold.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609. Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
CATHERINE ARCHER
has been hooked on historical romance since reading Jane Eyre at the age of twelve. She has an avid interest in history, particularly the Medieval period. A homemaker and mother, Catherine lives with her husband, three children and dog in Alberta, Canada, where the long winters give this American transplant plenty of time to write.
This book is dedicated to the children of my siblings
with much love and the hope that they might each follow their own dreams. To Russell, Tricia, Matthew, Sofia, Samara, Alexander, Joseph, Jeremy, Arielle, Jason, Crystal and Jacob.
I would also like to add a word of thanks to the
members of the RWâL, for their help with research information and moral support.
Lastly I must thank my editor, Karen Kosztolnyik, for
her support and her valuable contributions to my work.
The wind tugged the hair loose from Mary Fultonâs bun and whipped it across her pale face. She did not even bother to reach up and push it from her eyes. Mary was too intent on holding tightly to the straw bonnet she clutched over her slender midriff. It was as if that plain straw hat could hold her misery inside her, keep it from rising up to completely overwhelm her. She didnât notice the way the long, wide blue ribbon that was meant to tie the bonnet atop her head fluttered across the front of her lighter blue print dress as she walked, though she once came near to treading upon it.
Nor did she clearly see the heather, asphodel, campion and spotted orchids that bloomed amongst the short, coarse grass of the moorland. She had no appreciation for them, or the sun that occasionally peeked from the gray haze of clouds overhead, or anything else, for that matter. Nothing could get past the swelling ache of emptiness in her heart.
The two weeks that had passed since her fatherâs funeral had done little to ease her sorrow. In this, the last year of her fatherâs illness, she had known the end would come, had even realized it would be a release for him. Knowing this truth had not lessened the devastation of losing him. From the time of her motherâs death when she was five, Mary had taken over the care of her absentminded but brilliant parent.
Not that Robert Fulton had completely neglected his only child. The vicar had given unstintingly of himself and his time as far as her education was concerned. The simple truth was that he had had little thought for the ordinary things such as meals and clean clothing, of offering a hug when she fell down. It had been left to Mary to direct the series of housekeepers in their duties and help them with whatever needed doing, to dust off her own scraped knees.
