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Avon Books/Zebra Books
Awaken My Fire
Awaken My Fire
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$4.95 USD
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$4.95 USD
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Awaken My Fire is a five star romance by an award winning romance author.
Beloved throughout Brittany, a courageous champion in her people’s resurrection against the King Henry’s claim to the French crown, Lady Roshelle of Reales is determined to prevent Vincent de la Eresman, the famous Duke of Suffolk, from claiming her castle. Each of their encounters is intense and electrifying until at last the Duke and his army end the siege. The Duke and his men finally discover why the beautiful and rebellious young lady is still unmarried. Papillion, her deceased guardian, a famous scholar, philosopher, healer, and sorcerer, placed a curse on his charge and any man who attempts to lay with Roshelle shall be struck down dead. It takes the Duke some time to stop laughing at the idiocy of Frenchmen who believe this curse, but still he is grateful she has remained protected by the belief in it. His seduction begins, for all he knows is the defiant French beauty has captured his heart and soul…
An excerpt:
Roshelle looked up at Vincent with a gasp. In that moment she saw many things about him: his ever-present amusement, his restless energy and impatience with a world that moved far too slowly for him and, more than anything, the stunning force of his will. It scared her senseless. "Beware the perfect cleft," Papillion had said. Had he fore¬seen this man, Vincent de la Eresman, the Duke of Suffolk, in her future?
"Milady," Vincent began. "This lamentable curse of yours. I wonder..." He spoke the words slowly, as if with careful deliberation, before his gaze lowered just as slowly to her hand. Suddenly no one else was in the room. She hardly knew what he was saying as her senses filled with the pleasant assault of his nearness: a sumptuous promise of warmth and a clean, rich scent. She was breathing deeply all of a sud¬den, and deeper still as he took her hand into his and seemed to study it.
His large bronze hand enveloped her small cold one with sudden warmth. Her blue eyes widened. As If scourged, she wanted to snatch her hand way, but couldn't. His gaze found hers again, and with Papillion's own gift of mesmerizing, he held her still and transfixed. Like a tiny bird caught by a snake, her heart hammered with alarm and fear, yet she could neither move nor turn away. He brought the small trapped hand up, slowly turning it around palm side up to expose the sensitive skin of her small wrist. His thumb lightly grazed the spot before closing his eyes, and as he had done once before, he drank deeply of the sweet perfume of her skin. Then he brought her wrist to his lips.
Tiny hot shivers leaped from the spot; her breath was released in a gasp. Which seemed to please him. "I wonder," he continued obliquely, and at last came to the ques¬tion. "At what point exactly . . . does a man die?"
The laughter of his men sounded distant and far away, but it made her see his own racing amusement in that light of his eyes. Fury immediately greeted his laughter. She snatched her hand away. One reproachful look at his men subdued their rancorous amusement before she turned back to Vincent. "No bolder beast ever walked the earth! And, my Grace"—she spat the title—"I dearly pray you—unlike your doomed brother—have the good sense never to discover the answer. And not because I would mourn your death!"
Beloved throughout Brittany, a courageous champion in her people’s resurrection against the King Henry’s claim to the French crown, Lady Roshelle of Reales is determined to prevent Vincent de la Eresman, the famous Duke of Suffolk, from claiming her castle. Each of their encounters is intense and electrifying until at last the Duke and his army end the siege. The Duke and his men finally discover why the beautiful and rebellious young lady is still unmarried. Papillion, her deceased guardian, a famous scholar, philosopher, healer, and sorcerer, placed a curse on his charge and any man who attempts to lay with Roshelle shall be struck down dead. It takes the Duke some time to stop laughing at the idiocy of Frenchmen who believe this curse, but still he is grateful she has remained protected by the belief in it. His seduction begins, for all he knows is the defiant French beauty has captured his heart and soul…
An excerpt:
Roshelle looked up at Vincent with a gasp. In that moment she saw many things about him: his ever-present amusement, his restless energy and impatience with a world that moved far too slowly for him and, more than anything, the stunning force of his will. It scared her senseless. "Beware the perfect cleft," Papillion had said. Had he fore¬seen this man, Vincent de la Eresman, the Duke of Suffolk, in her future?
"Milady," Vincent began. "This lamentable curse of yours. I wonder..." He spoke the words slowly, as if with careful deliberation, before his gaze lowered just as slowly to her hand. Suddenly no one else was in the room. She hardly knew what he was saying as her senses filled with the pleasant assault of his nearness: a sumptuous promise of warmth and a clean, rich scent. She was breathing deeply all of a sud¬den, and deeper still as he took her hand into his and seemed to study it.
His large bronze hand enveloped her small cold one with sudden warmth. Her blue eyes widened. As If scourged, she wanted to snatch her hand way, but couldn't. His gaze found hers again, and with Papillion's own gift of mesmerizing, he held her still and transfixed. Like a tiny bird caught by a snake, her heart hammered with alarm and fear, yet she could neither move nor turn away. He brought the small trapped hand up, slowly turning it around palm side up to expose the sensitive skin of her small wrist. His thumb lightly grazed the spot before closing his eyes, and as he had done once before, he drank deeply of the sweet perfume of her skin. Then he brought her wrist to his lips.
Tiny hot shivers leaped from the spot; her breath was released in a gasp. Which seemed to please him. "I wonder," he continued obliquely, and at last came to the ques¬tion. "At what point exactly . . . does a man die?"
The laughter of his men sounded distant and far away, but it made her see his own racing amusement in that light of his eyes. Fury immediately greeted his laughter. She snatched her hand away. One reproachful look at his men subdued their rancorous amusement before she turned back to Vincent. "No bolder beast ever walked the earth! And, my Grace"—she spat the title—"I dearly pray you—unlike your doomed brother—have the good sense never to discover the answer. And not because I would mourn your death!"
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