|
A Witches’ Ball. Hmmph. A magical marriage mart, more like—and Lady Ninianne Morvoren is not in search of a husband. Not yet. She’s perfectly happy with her life on Myrddin’s Isle, where the sea and the moonlight combine to make her magic powerful and her reputation as a truth seer and a curse breaker grow. But her Spriggan friend, Boult, isin search of a mate, and he’s heard of the perfect candidate in the district of Nightshade Manor, where the ball is to be held.
Mr. Tristan Tawstock has not come to Cornwall in search of a wife. He’s looking for contacts, connections, and useful friendships that could help as he launches a political career. But a . . . creature has shown up at Nightshade Manor—and its dark influence appears vulnerable to the combination of Lady Ninianne’s water magic and his own Promethean skills with fire and light. As the monster’s menace spreads, Ninianne and Tristan agree to work together. But can the unlikely duo find and conquer the creature before one or both of them are destroyed? And will their unexpected attraction defeat all those best-laid plans? |
Excerpt
Tristan Tawstock stepped outside, took a couple of steps into the drive, then stopped. Throwing his head back, he breathed deeply. Once. Twice. His eyes were closed as he basked in the light of the morning sun. Ninianne thought she must look similarly absorbed when she stood under the full moon.
She hadn’t made a move or a sound, but suddenly, his head turned.
There was no hiding. Pulling away from the house, she straightened her spine—and their gazes met.
Something flared between them. Tingling awareness and a recognition based on their shared experience last night. She could feel tendrils inside her, awakening, reaching out--
“Good morning.” She cut it off with a brisk greeting.
“Good morning.” He hesitated, then approached, coming to stand on the other side of the thigh-high yews. “I suppose we must thrust aside the proprieties and introduce ourselves. I am Mr. Tristan Tawstock.”
“Lady Ninianne Morvoren.” She curtsied. He bowed and gave her a chance to eye that distinctive hair with appreciation.
“Are you feeling better this morning?”
She flushed. “Yes, thank you. It was just a passing reaction. The shock, I suppose.”
“It was shocking, I’ll give you that. Not what anyone was expecting.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, then Ninianne raised her chin. She let her gaze follow the strong, square line of his jaw for just a moment, before she spoke. “I refuse to feel awkward around you, Mr. Tawstock.”
He blinked. “I am glad to hear it.”
“I thought it best to inform you.”
He pursed his lips and glanced around them. “Not awkward? Not even while standing in the shrubbery?”
Her mouth twitched. “No. Not even then.”
“Truly, awkwardness does seem . . . unnecessary. After . . .”
“Yes. After.” She knew they both were recalling that melding of magics. “It almost feels as if we’ve been to battle together.”
“It does, doesn’t it? And you know what they say—a mate you make on the battlefield lasts forever.”
He said it cheerfully, as if unaware of the double entendre, but Ninianne quirked a smile up at him anyway. “Mr. Tawstock, are you flirting with me?”
“Oh! No.” He looked alarmed. “Of course not. I didn’t mean—” He stopped when he noted her amusement. “Well, that is, unless you wish me to flirt with you.”
Her grin deepened. He appeared so solidly calm and confident. She found she enjoyed knocking him off base a bit. “I haven’t decided yet.”
She hadn’t made a move or a sound, but suddenly, his head turned.
There was no hiding. Pulling away from the house, she straightened her spine—and their gazes met.
Something flared between them. Tingling awareness and a recognition based on their shared experience last night. She could feel tendrils inside her, awakening, reaching out--
“Good morning.” She cut it off with a brisk greeting.
“Good morning.” He hesitated, then approached, coming to stand on the other side of the thigh-high yews. “I suppose we must thrust aside the proprieties and introduce ourselves. I am Mr. Tristan Tawstock.”
“Lady Ninianne Morvoren.” She curtsied. He bowed and gave her a chance to eye that distinctive hair with appreciation.
“Are you feeling better this morning?”
She flushed. “Yes, thank you. It was just a passing reaction. The shock, I suppose.”
“It was shocking, I’ll give you that. Not what anyone was expecting.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, then Ninianne raised her chin. She let her gaze follow the strong, square line of his jaw for just a moment, before she spoke. “I refuse to feel awkward around you, Mr. Tawstock.”
He blinked. “I am glad to hear it.”
“I thought it best to inform you.”
He pursed his lips and glanced around them. “Not awkward? Not even while standing in the shrubbery?”
Her mouth twitched. “No. Not even then.”
“Truly, awkwardness does seem . . . unnecessary. After . . .”
“Yes. After.” She knew they both were recalling that melding of magics. “It almost feels as if we’ve been to battle together.”
“It does, doesn’t it? And you know what they say—a mate you make on the battlefield lasts forever.”
He said it cheerfully, as if unaware of the double entendre, but Ninianne quirked a smile up at him anyway. “Mr. Tawstock, are you flirting with me?”
“Oh! No.” He looked alarmed. “Of course not. I didn’t mean—” He stopped when he noted her amusement. “Well, that is, unless you wish me to flirt with you.”
Her grin deepened. He appeared so solidly calm and confident. She found she enjoyed knocking him off base a bit. “I haven’t decided yet.”