âYou have a very nice smile, Monsieur Kavanagh,â Tally said.
âYou have a very niceââ He looked pointedly at her chest. Sheâd bound her breasts, but heâd seen what lay underneath the wrappings. âYou still have to pay a price for my saving your cow, Miss Bernard.â
âShe isnât my cow.â
âSeems everything you touch ends up belonging to you.â His grin vanished. âWhy is that, Tally?â
She faltered under his stare. He put his hands on her hair, slid them down to cup her face.
Mon Dieu. It was truly happening. Not like before, when heâd stolen a kiss just to prove his indifference. There was no indifference in him now. And none in her.
âWhat will you give me, Tally?â he whispered.
She closed her eyes. âEverything.â
THE FOREST LORD
âThis story, a mating of Regency romance and old myths, is enchanting, creating a world and characters to dream uponâ¦. The use of fae characters and ways spices up the story, turning a tale of romance between different classes into a different and magical read.â
âAffaire de Coeur
SECRET OF THE WOLF
âWith riveting dialogue and passionate characters, Ms. Krinard exemplifies her exceptional knack for creating an extraordinary story of love, strength, courage and compassion.â
âRomantic Times
TO CATCH A WOLF
â[E]ach scene richly paves the way for an explosive, satisfying conclusion.â
âRomantic Times Top Pick
TOUCH OF THE WOLF
âTouch of the Wolf is a mystical, enthralling read, brimming with lyrical prose, powerful emotions, dark secrets and shattering sensuality.â
âEugenia Riley, bestselling author of Bushwhacked Bride
ONCE A WOLF
âOnce again Ms. Krinard brilliantly delivers a gripping romance, turning every emotion inside out to expose all the facets of love. She holds you spellbound with her magic.â
âRendezvous
Hat Rock, Texas, 1866
THE OLD DRUNK, Charlie, was the one who came to tell Sim his mother was dead.
Others would have known earlier, of courseâthe madam of the brothel, Evelynâs fellow soiled dovesâ¦and any number of clients, respectable and less so, who frequented the Rose of Texas. Gossip traveled fast in a whorehouse.
None of them bothered to pass the tragic news to Evelynâs only son. Charlie came not because he gave a damn about Sim, but because carrying the story made him feel important. More important than a worthless, troublemaking sixteen-year-old tramp.
Sim, standing in the dusty street in front of Hat Rockâs pathetic excuse for a bank, heard Charlieâs slurred speech without emotion. Heâd learned to hide his feelings early on, when he figured out that Ma couldnât be trusted from one moment to the next. Sometimes she cuddled him and called him âmy son,â but more often she cursed him as the bane of her life, the burden who had ruined her for the better things she deserved.
Sim clenched his fists and walked out of the cloud of Charlieâs whiskey-soaked breath. He strolled down the center of Main Street, making the carriages and buckboards and horsemen go around him.
Ma was dead. Sheâd been going at it a long time, riddled with some kind of wasting disease. But sheâd kept working, even when only the lowest clients would take her. And Sim had visited the Rose every day to see if she needed anything from her only kin, if she would accept a little of the money he earned or stole in every petty way he had learned in his years on the street.
On his last visit sheâd spat at him. Heâd wiped the spittle from his cheek and left, though Madame Rose had tried to bribe him with promises of a hot meal and a free ride after. Heâd sworn he wouldnât go back. Heâd planned to break his oath this afternoon. He could have said goodbye.
She could have said she loved him.
He laughed, startling some fine ladyâs skittish horse. Her male escort, a rich rancher decked out like a pimp, spurred his long-legged eastern gelding in front of Sim and slashed the air with his quirt.
âGet out of the street, you savage,â he snarled.
Sim tilted back the brim of his ragged hat and looked the man in the eye. The man yanked on the reins. âFilthy beggar,â he muttered. âNo better than aââ
His horse squealed as a length of heavy rawhide rope slapped down on the animalâs well-bred rump. The beast took off like a shot, and the ladyâs mount plunged after it.
Caleb laughed the way he always did, loud and long. He beat the rawhide against his palm. âPelado,â he scoffed. âThinks heâs too good for the likes of us.â
His glance pulled Sim in like a brotherâs embrace. Besides Ma, he was the closest thing to real kin Sim had. Except Ma had known she was dying and finally told Sim that he had a pa. One even more important than Calebâs.