A Bewitching Bride
Read A Bewitching Bride Online
Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
Table of Contents
PRAISE FOR
The Scot and I
“Murder, treachery, and intrigue are driving forces in this action-packed, cleverly plotted story that pairs a brilliant, calculating, relentless hero with a passionate, courageous heroine and lets the adventure begin.”
—
Library Journal
Library Journal
“An excellent late-Victorian romantic suspense thriller with a small dose of fantasy elements enhancing the fun tale.”
—
Midwest Book Review
Midwest Book Review
PRAISE FOR
The Runaway McBride
“A charming romance . . . Thornton displays her usual deft touch, effortlessly combining delightful characters with an intriguing mystery!”
—Shirlee Busbee,
New York Times
bestselling author
New York Times
bestselling author
“A fantastic new series.
The Runaway McBride
has everything a reader wants and so much more . . . Ms. Thornton has a one-of-a-kind historical romance full of action, passion, mystery, and suspense that will have readers running back for more. I was mesmerized by
The Runaway McBride
.”
The Runaway McBride
has everything a reader wants and so much more . . . Ms. Thornton has a one-of-a-kind historical romance full of action, passion, mystery, and suspense that will have readers running back for more. I was mesmerized by
The Runaway McBride
.”
—
Fallen Angel Reviews
Fallen Angel Reviews
AND FOR ELIZABETH THORNTON AND HER NOVELS
“A writer of extraordinary brilliance.”
—
Romantic Times
Romantic Times
“An Elizabeth Thornton historical always provides a powerful, entertaining, nonstop reading experience.”
—
Midwest Book Review
Midwest Book Review
“An unforgettable tale.”
—
Booklist
Booklist
“As multilayered as a wedding cake and just as delectable.”
—
Publishers Weekly
Publishers Weekly
“Exhilarating Regency romantic suspense.”
—
The Best Reviews
The Best Reviews
Berkley Sensation Titles by Elizabeth Thornton
THE RUNAWAY MCBRIDE
THE SCOT AND I
A BEWITCHING BRIDE
THE SCOT AND I
A BEWITCHING BRIDE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
A BEWITCHING BRIDE
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / November 2010
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-101-44474-0
BERKLEY
®
SENSATION
®
SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY
®
SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
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BERKLEY
®
SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
One
March 1886: The Highlands of Scotland
Gavin Hepburn stood at the edge of the dance floor and took a small sip of champagne as he watched, with some amusement, the rowdy antics of the wedding guests who were going through the motions of a Scottish reel. They were celebrating the marriage of Juliet Cardno to Henry Steele, the man who had been courting her for the last six months. Henry was the proprietor of the hotel on the outskirts of Ballater in the Highlands of Scotland, where the reception was being held. Most of the guests were from Aberdeen or Edinburgh, and some from as far afield as London. Not all the rooms were taken, but one guest had been assigned a cottage some way from the hotel, on the edge of the moor, to accommodate his inseparable companion, his dog, Macduff. Dogs were not allowed inside the hotel. Gavin was the guest who owned the dog.
It was late in the evening, and fiddlers were sawing their instruments as if they were foresters felling trees in a race against time. The dancers on the ballroom floor—most of the gentlemen in kilts and the ladies with tartan sashes—were twirling their partners in a wild dervish and letting out ear-piercing shrieks as the spirit moved them.
The shrieks put Gavin in mind of Macduff, who could howl like a banshee when the spirit moved
him
. It was just as well that they’d been banished to an estate cottage. It was no hardship. The cottage was primitive but not uncomfortable and was within easy walking distance of the main building. Besides, he needed a rest from the rigors of the social whirl. That was another reason he’d returned to the Highlands and, in particular, to this stretch on the river Dee. When the queen was not residing in her castle in Balmoral, Deeside became a quiet backwater, as it had been before the royal family made it famous. It was also the land of his birth.
him
. It was just as well that they’d been banished to an estate cottage. It was no hardship. The cottage was primitive but not uncomfortable and was within easy walking distance of the main building. Besides, he needed a rest from the rigors of the social whirl. That was another reason he’d returned to the Highlands and, in particular, to this stretch on the river Dee. When the queen was not residing in her castle in Balmoral, Deeside became a quiet backwater, as it had been before the royal family made it famous. It was also the land of his birth.
Here, he hoped to do a little introspection as he tramped over the windswept moors and climbed the lower ranges. But something else was at work in him. He possessed the gift of second sight, and though he could not see the future clearly, he knew that in this moment in time, he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He was about to embark on something that was extremely dangerous. He didn’t know what, but he knew that before long, he would be given a sign.
His gaze traveled that vast interior, formerly the great hall of a hunting lodge that had once belonged to the dukes of Fife. It was massive in comparison to his own comfortable lodge that nestled on the other side of the river but built in the same mold. Antlers and stag heads abounded, as did paintings of hunting scenes. He wondered how long it would take Juliet to change everything to suit her own taste.
He considered himself a lucky man. It might have been he who had drifted into marriage with Juliet. It would have been the wrong thing to do. She deserved better than a man who could not offer her his whole heart. Besides, he had no desire to be made over, and he was sure that in another twelve months, the happy groom would hardly know himself.
His gaze shifted to take in the guests, but he ignored the lures that many a lass cast in his direction. He knew better than to trifle with the daughters of the local gentry. Should he be so unwise, their fathers or brothers might well lead him to the altar with a gun in his back.
One young woman caught his eye, not because she was a beauty or had presence, but because she seemed to be the odd one out in this crush of guests.
Arresting
was the word that came to mind. He didn’t recognize the lady, but he recognized the cut of her gown. Only a first-class designer could have fashioned such an exquisite work of art. It was simplicity itself, a gray silk with a white lacy bodice. The House of Worth, he thought, or perhaps a competitor. He’d paid for many such gowns in his time.
Arresting
was the word that came to mind. He didn’t recognize the lady, but he recognized the cut of her gown. Only a first-class designer could have fashioned such an exquisite work of art. It was simplicity itself, a gray silk with a white lacy bodice. The House of Worth, he thought, or perhaps a competitor. He’d paid for many such gowns in his time.
As though she felt his gaze, the girl turned her head and looked directly into his eyes. He felt a buzz pass through his brain. For a moment or two, he was completely disoriented. Words formed inside his head:
Are you the one?
Is this what had brought him back to the Highlands? Was this slip of a girl the key to his visions?
Are you the one?
he silently demanded. After a moment, she seemed to come to herself and dragged her eyes away.
Are you the one?
Is this what had brought him back to the Highlands? Was this slip of a girl the key to his visions?
Are you the one?
he silently demanded. After a moment, she seemed to come to herself and dragged her eyes away.
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