|
|
|
EFFICIENT SPINSTER OR DESIRABLE WOMAN?
Adopting the guise of a buttoned up spinster is nothing new for Chloe Hardwick. But under the watchful eye of her unnervingly handsome employer, the Marquess of Marland, for the first time Chloe yearns to be unbuttoned! Yet he sees her only as his assistant–the efficient Hardwick–not as Chloe the Woman.
Determined to escape Braedon’s cold detachment, Chloe leaves. And when he pursues her to London, determined to entice her back, Braedon is utterly unprepared for what he find there–the real Chloe Hardwick . . .
Adopting the guise of a buttoned up spinster is nothing new for Chloe Hardwick. But under the watchful eye of her unnervingly handsome employer, the Marquess of Marland, for the first time Chloe yearns to be unbuttoned! Yet he sees her only as his assistant–the efficient Hardwick–not as Chloe the Woman.
Determined to escape Braedon’s cold detachment, Chloe leaves. And when he pursues her to London, determined to entice her back, Braedon is utterly unprepared for what he find there–the real Chloe Hardwick . . .
EXCERPT
She nodded and moved away from the door. A long worktable occupied the center of the room. She paused in front of it, kept her gaze fixed on the items scattered across it. “Families can be so polarizing, can they not? You and I are perfect examples of both ends of the spectrum. My family is gone now, but I spent my life trying to stay close to them. Yours is gone too, but even still you try to push them away.”
Braedon gaped at her. This was it. Exactly what he feared when he’d been forced to ask for her help rather than command it. Prying questions. Conjectures. The fact that hers were remarkably accurate conjectures only made everything worse.
She stilled, her fingers gripping the table before her. He thought at first that the objects in front of her had captured her attention. He moved closer. Spread over the table laid a collection of Lover’s Eye’s–those miniature portraits of just the eye of a loved one that had been so popular at the end of the last century.
“What is it?” he asked.
She made a cutting gesture with her hand. “Listen,” she breathed.
He lifted his chin. There. Male voices approaching the door, one of them unmistakeably Signor Pisano’s, raised in protest.
Braedon did not hesitate. A low, plush seat occupied the corner next to the fire. He gripped Hardwick’s hand and dragged her bodily over to it. He seated himself and positioned her standing before the chair, facing him and blocking his view of the door.
She went willingly. Her head was cocked, her attention focused on the signor’s suddenly audible words. He must be right outside.
“Your paranoia is getting the better of you, Mr. Laxton,” the old man complained. “That is a perfectly ordinary couple in there. Valued customers. I won’t have you disturbing them.”
“And I won’t have you deceiving me. I don’t know what prompted me to remember that Marland’s much-vaunted assistant is a woman, but if I find you’ve concealed the pair of them I will ruin you, Pisano. I’ll blacken your name so thoroughly that collectors will dig through trash heaps themselves before buying anything from you.” The door rattled. “Now move out of my way, old man, before you are hurt.”
Hardwick, panic in her eyes, began to step away.
Braedon grasped her, held her in place. “Bend down,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Bend. Down. Now.” He tugged on her arm until she was forced to move closer and her knees touched his. He kept pulling until she was bent over at the waist, forced to brace her hands on either side of the chair. Her face was positioned mere inches from his.
Behind them, the door opened.
“Of course I wish you to be happy, dear heart.” Braedon stared into Hardwick’s dark eyes and pitched his voice seductive and low. “But why on earth should I pay for a pretty portrait of some stranger’s eye when my wife has such a lovely pair of her own?” He ran his hand slowly up the length of her arm. Lightly, he circled her shoulder before spreading his hand across the top of her back. “Instead, if you are fond of the notion, why do we not hire someone to paint me your beautiful eye as a keepsake?”
Comprehension dawned on Hardwick’s face. Only silence echoed in the room behind her.
He couldn’t see Laxton, but Braedon guessed that the man was indulging in a prime view of Hardwick’s behind. Let him. It couldn’t compare to his own vantage, so close to her flushed expression–or the peek at her lush bosom afforded by her gaping bodice.
“Or better yet,” he purred. “We might commission a portrait of a more . . . interesting portion of your anatomy?”
She had the heart for it. She tried to play along. But her color was high and her pupils had gone wide and dark with excitement, nerves . . . and something that looked alarmingly like yearning. She opened her mouth but nothing emerged but a breathless sound of agreement.
He felt breathless himself. But he forged on, and did what he’d spent weeks trying not to envision, what he’d been lying to himself about, what he’d wanted to do since she first waltzed down his stairs in a shifting gown of green-blue. He reached up, wound his other arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss–long, demanding and deep.
She nodded and moved away from the door. A long worktable occupied the center of the room. She paused in front of it, kept her gaze fixed on the items scattered across it. “Families can be so polarizing, can they not? You and I are perfect examples of both ends of the spectrum. My family is gone now, but I spent my life trying to stay close to them. Yours is gone too, but even still you try to push them away.”
Braedon gaped at her. This was it. Exactly what he feared when he’d been forced to ask for her help rather than command it. Prying questions. Conjectures. The fact that hers were remarkably accurate conjectures only made everything worse.
She stilled, her fingers gripping the table before her. He thought at first that the objects in front of her had captured her attention. He moved closer. Spread over the table laid a collection of Lover’s Eye’s–those miniature portraits of just the eye of a loved one that had been so popular at the end of the last century.
“What is it?” he asked.
She made a cutting gesture with her hand. “Listen,” she breathed.
He lifted his chin. There. Male voices approaching the door, one of them unmistakeably Signor Pisano’s, raised in protest.
Braedon did not hesitate. A low, plush seat occupied the corner next to the fire. He gripped Hardwick’s hand and dragged her bodily over to it. He seated himself and positioned her standing before the chair, facing him and blocking his view of the door.
She went willingly. Her head was cocked, her attention focused on the signor’s suddenly audible words. He must be right outside.
“Your paranoia is getting the better of you, Mr. Laxton,” the old man complained. “That is a perfectly ordinary couple in there. Valued customers. I won’t have you disturbing them.”
“And I won’t have you deceiving me. I don’t know what prompted me to remember that Marland’s much-vaunted assistant is a woman, but if I find you’ve concealed the pair of them I will ruin you, Pisano. I’ll blacken your name so thoroughly that collectors will dig through trash heaps themselves before buying anything from you.” The door rattled. “Now move out of my way, old man, before you are hurt.”
Hardwick, panic in her eyes, began to step away.
Braedon grasped her, held her in place. “Bend down,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Bend. Down. Now.” He tugged on her arm until she was forced to move closer and her knees touched his. He kept pulling until she was bent over at the waist, forced to brace her hands on either side of the chair. Her face was positioned mere inches from his.
Behind them, the door opened.
“Of course I wish you to be happy, dear heart.” Braedon stared into Hardwick’s dark eyes and pitched his voice seductive and low. “But why on earth should I pay for a pretty portrait of some stranger’s eye when my wife has such a lovely pair of her own?” He ran his hand slowly up the length of her arm. Lightly, he circled her shoulder before spreading his hand across the top of her back. “Instead, if you are fond of the notion, why do we not hire someone to paint me your beautiful eye as a keepsake?”
Comprehension dawned on Hardwick’s face. Only silence echoed in the room behind her.
He couldn’t see Laxton, but Braedon guessed that the man was indulging in a prime view of Hardwick’s behind. Let him. It couldn’t compare to his own vantage, so close to her flushed expression–or the peek at her lush bosom afforded by her gaping bodice.
“Or better yet,” he purred. “We might commission a portrait of a more . . . interesting portion of your anatomy?”
She had the heart for it. She tried to play along. But her color was high and her pupils had gone wide and dark with excitement, nerves . . . and something that looked alarmingly like yearning. She opened her mouth but nothing emerged but a breathless sound of agreement.
He felt breathless himself. But he forged on, and did what he’d spent weeks trying not to envision, what he’d been lying to himself about, what he’d wanted to do since she first waltzed down his stairs in a shifting gown of green-blue. He reached up, wound his other arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss–long, demanding and deep.
REVIEWS
You will love the hero and heroine and root for their HEA. One of the best books of the year! 4.5 stars
–Keira, Love, Romance, Passion
UNBUTTONING MISS HARDWICK is a splendid read! Intense, emotional and completely engaging, this novel will capture your attention. Like me, I’m sure you will find it difficult to put down until the very last page.
–Lisa Jo at The Romance Reviews
I’m still new to historical romance and wasn’t much of a fan. I’ve since changed my stance on historicals. Why? Because I read Unbuttoning Miss Hardwick. Ms. Marlowe’s words flow from the page. I felt like I was there rushing down the road in the phaeton, feeling the wind whipping my hair. I could see the characters well and am looking for my own Braedon. Goodness, he is yummy….If you want a romance that’s heavy on suspense, emotion and filled with characters you won’t forget, then this book is for you. 4.5 stars.
–Nymphaea, Long and Short Reviews
For an emotional read with passion, touches of humor and dashes of suspense, I gladly recommend UNBUTTONING MISS HARDWICK.
–Jane Bowers, Romance Reviews Today
4 stars! With it’s delightful twist on Cinderella, Marlowe’s latest pits a straightlaced lady with a weapons-obsessed nobleman and lets the battle begin. Along with the charming main storyline Marlowe incorporates several subplots which add interest and danger.
–Kathe Robin at Romantic Times Book Reviews
You will love the hero and heroine and root for their HEA. One of the best books of the year! 4.5 stars
–Keira, Love, Romance, Passion
UNBUTTONING MISS HARDWICK is a splendid read! Intense, emotional and completely engaging, this novel will capture your attention. Like me, I’m sure you will find it difficult to put down until the very last page.
–Lisa Jo at The Romance Reviews
I’m still new to historical romance and wasn’t much of a fan. I’ve since changed my stance on historicals. Why? Because I read Unbuttoning Miss Hardwick. Ms. Marlowe’s words flow from the page. I felt like I was there rushing down the road in the phaeton, feeling the wind whipping my hair. I could see the characters well and am looking for my own Braedon. Goodness, he is yummy….If you want a romance that’s heavy on suspense, emotion and filled with characters you won’t forget, then this book is for you. 4.5 stars.
–Nymphaea, Long and Short Reviews
For an emotional read with passion, touches of humor and dashes of suspense, I gladly recommend UNBUTTONING MISS HARDWICK.
–Jane Bowers, Romance Reviews Today
4 stars! With it’s delightful twist on Cinderella, Marlowe’s latest pits a straightlaced lady with a weapons-obsessed nobleman and lets the battle begin. Along with the charming main storyline Marlowe incorporates several subplots which add interest and danger.
–Kathe Robin at Romantic Times Book Reviews