Bride of Falcon
A Waltz with a Rogue, #2
When is love not enough?
After five Seasons, Ivonne Wimpleton has accepted she’s a haute ton undesirable. Her only suitors are men desperate to get their hands on her marriage settlement. Guarded and aloof, and always a bit ungraceful, she’s resigned herself to spinsterhood. She doesn’t mind her fate since Chancy Faulkenhurst, the man who once held her heart, left for India without an explanation.
Six years later Chance returns to England physically and emotionally scarred. His love for Ivonne remains just as strong, and when he learns she must choose one of the degenerates who’ve offered for her, he’s determined that none should have her but him.
Caution: This historical Regency romance contains an intrepid, spinsterish wallflower convinced she’s unworthy of love, a wounded hero determined to persuade her otherwise, and a cunning villainess you’ll hope gets her comeuppance.
Buy this 2nd installment in the Waltz with a Rogue historical Regency romance novella series for a rousing, emotional, and romantic adventure you can’t put down.
“Great novella that tugged at my heart. It was another fantastic…read from Cameron.” ~Pure Jonel
“Emotional and touching, you will love her characters Ivonne and Chancy.” ~Nicole Laverdure
“Fast paced tale of second chances, romance and love.” ~My Book Addiction Reviews
God, he’d missed her.Chancey Faulkenhurst inhaled Ivy’s perfume, relishing the unexpected gift of holding her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her, drink in her essence, water his parched soul with her sweetness.
“Falcon?” Wonder in her voice, she turned and touched his face. “Is it really you?”
He released a low chuckle. “Indeed, Ivy, it is.”
Her nickname slipped from his tongue as if, instead of six long years, he’d seen her yesterday. He’d dubbed her Ivy a score ago—whenever he and Allen came up from school on holiday, she’d clung to them as tenaciously as an ivy vine—and the pet name stuck.
She’d been infuriated and began calling him Falcon instead of Chance as his friends did. He’d rather liked the nickname until her brother started tossing it about. Now, most of Chance’s intimate friends addressed him as Falcon.
He wished he could see her features clearly. The fragmented moonbeams revealed little more than ivory skin, dark plum lips, and shiny eyes.
Ivy’s gaze sank to his cheek. Her glorious eyes widened, and her breath caught. She brushed a hesitant finger across the scar. “What’s this? You’ve been hurt? Why did no one tell me?”
The puckered inch-long streak was the least of his wounds. Nonetheless, her concern warmed his cynical heart. A heart he’d long ago given to her, though she mustn’t know.
He wasn’t free to woo her.
“Shh. It’s naught.” Chance caught her hand with his good one. He pressed her palm to his chest, the only affection he dared show. “I take it you’re hiding from that half-sprung brute?”
He tilted his head in the direction of the approaching footsteps. Ivy probably couldn’t see the movement. “That obnoxious fellow. Has he been both—”
Kirkpatrick plowed into the arbor, sending another cascade of leaves and petals down upon them. Wheezing, he swung his head back and forth like an enraged bull.
“What goes on here?” he bellowed, sounding much like the creature he resembled.
The fair-haired duo plunged into the bower’s other side.
Stifling a snicker, Chance grinned. They reminded him of a pair of fierce pugs ready to take on a bull mastiff. Kirkpatrick didn’t stand a tick’s chance in hot oil against Ivy’s two determined protectors.