I am still working on revising and editing Sinners Take All (working title was A Bachelor No More) Book 1 of the new Quest for the Shroud Series. In the meantime, I'd like to post the teaser for Book 2 which will be titled Secrets, Lies and Sins.

You might remember Oliver Talbot, the Marquess of Braxton, from the Lords of Avalon Series. This is what happens when he runs into Caitriona Kinross, whom he hasn't seen in three years, Hope you enjoy!

 

Excerpt from

Secrets, Lies and Sins

Book 2 of the Quest for the Shroud Series

By K. R. Richards

 

Oliver Talbot, the Marquess of Braxton, remained out of sight on the shady side of the garden shed. If luck was with him this day, he’d catch his prey and if it wasn’t, he’d return to Castle Draoie angrier and more frustrated than he was already. Bloody, damned Scotland. He never should have come.

He sensed her presence before he could see her on the path. It was odd that he could still feel her nearness after three, long years, but he did.

He waited. One glimpse of that fiery auburn hair as she passed by him was enough proof. He lunged for her.

He took a step back when he saw the glint of her dagger as she whirled around to face him.

He flashed a wicked grin. “Hello, Cait. It’s been a long time.”

It seemed an eternity passed while he waited for her to speak. He had clearly surprised her. He found that unusual because she had been one of the best agents at the Department, once upon a time. And he had sensed her. The surprise in those green eyes vanished. That dangerous glint he knew so well now burned in those forest green eyes.

“It seems you’re a bit rusty, Red.”

“Maybe. You are fortunate that my knife is not rusty. It will make removing your ballocks that much easier.”

“Come now. I did nothing to warrant such punishment. I will remind you, it was you, Cait, who left me without a word while I was on a mission. You ran back to Scotland to get married without leaving a note or explanation. If anyone has the right to carve someone up, it would be me.”

“What do you want?”

“What I deserved three years ago. An explanation.” The usual brilliant blue of his eyes darkened to the intensity of a stormy sky.

“From what I’ve heard from London, you certainly didn’t pine away for me.”

“I must indeed be a legend if tales of my sexual exploits have made it all the way to Scotland,” his words dripped with sarcasm.

“I would use a word other than legend.” Cait took several steps back though she still held her dagger at the ready.

“I’ve learned a great deal about pleasure in these three years. I imagine I could teach you a thing or two. Perhaps you’d like to have a go?” He taunted her.

She tossed her head. “I’d rather slit my own throat.”

This conversation wasn’t going the way he planned. At all. Frustrated, he held out his hand. “Give me the damn dagger.”

“No.”

He shook his head and brought his fingers up to rub his aching temple. “Damn it, Cait! I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Put the knife away.”

She seemed unsure. Her hand trembled slightly, but it did tremble. Oliver took advantage of her weakness in that moment and grabbed her wrist. He pried the dagger from her fingers with his other hand. He slid her weapon into his pocket.

“Leave me alone. I have my own life now. I’ll not have you pestering me.”

“Pestering?” He forced himself to control his rising anger.

“Madame, the only thing I want is what you owe me. An explanation.”

“You don’t deserve one.” She turned and continued on the path.

“Yes. I. Do.” He reached out and took hold of her upper arm. “I did nothing to you. When I left London, we were lovers, when I returned from Vienna you were married to an old man in Scotland. I just want to know why. Why did I not even warrant an explanation? A letter? Something.”

She tried to break away. She kicked him in the thigh, though she had been aiming higher. He held fast. With a vice grip on both of her arms, he pulled her against him. 

She kicked and scratched at him. They continued to struggle. She was still very strong but she was out of practice, and no doubt did not condition her body on a daily basis as she had before. He did, and was stronger. Finally, he pinned her arms at her sides. With a sweep of one long, muscled leg, he brought it behind one of hers and unbalanced her. They fell to the ground in a wrestling heap. He tried to keep her there. She tried to break free. 

Finally, he was on top of her, pinning her beneath him.

“Why?” He demanded.

 She shook her head. “My reasons are my own.”

Their heated gazes locked. Each of them struggled for breath.

She wasn’t as lean as he remembered. Oh, she was still tall and slender, but she was curvier, and softer - in all the right places.

And damn it all, he was aroused. He bit back a curse as he realized after all these years he still wanted her. The woman who had brought him to his knees.

She must have noticed. There was a flash of panic in those green eyes. “Let me go!”

“When you’ve given me an explanation, I’ll happily let you go, darling.”

“I will not.”

“Why?”

Cait inhaled sharply when she saw the flicker of pain in the brilliant blue of his eyes. She never guessed she hurt him. Perhaps she was imagining it. Surely, that had to be it. There had never been any talk of feelings, emotion, or permanency. 

She shook her head. “I can’t.” She wouldn’t. Couldn’t now. There was too much at stake.  

He watched her eyes grow misty. All the emotion he used to carry around for her in his heart reappeared. Ah, hell, he’d spent years trying to purge her from his soul. Whatever made him think he could? Now here he was, feeling things he didn’t want to feel. And wanting.

“Damn you, Cait!” He should let her go. Walk away. Forget her for good. He did think about it for a few seconds. He did try.

Instead, he kissed her.

 

New excerpt from A Bachelor No More

Here is a new excerpt from upcoming Book 1 of the Quest for the Shroud series, A Bachelor No More.

In this scene, Avalon Society Member and known rake, Lucien Saintmaur, aka Wyldhurst, deals with the prudish Miss Hazel Grimm.

 

“Are you quite certain we cannot make it?” Hazel asked again.

“Miss Grimm. We are in the midst of a torrential rain. The roads are nearly impassable at present and will only get worse. True, we are not far from Gryffestone, but had we continued onward, we might have well spent the rest of the night inside the carriage when the wheels became mired in the mud. We would be stuck and in a very precarious position if your attackers came upon us. This inn is our safest option,” Luc took her hand and helped her from the carriage. Actually, it was more like a quick jerk of the hand that led to the dragging of the irritating lady behind him. He quickly situated them inside the dry entry of the Badger Inn.

After requesting the largest set of rooms available, which unfortunately turned out to be only one room with a small parlour, he followed Miss Grimm up the narrow steps.

Maids scurried about the room before leaving them to their privacy. The food he had requested was laid out upon the table. A warm fire blazed in the hearth.

When he threw the bolt to bar the door, Miss Grimm nearly jumped from the chair she had taken near the fire.

Her grey-blue eyes grew wide with fear as she watched him. He was convinced the woman would jump at the sight of her own shadow. 

He sighed heavily. “Once again, Miss Grimm, I assure you, you are safe from me. I bolted the door to protect us, to keep harm out and for absolutely no other reason.”

What was it Damien had told him? Oh, yes. She was jittery around men. There was no doubt, she was. There must be a legitimate reason men frightened her. He decided that was none of his concern. Tomorrow morning he would deliver her to the Earl of Kinross who awaited her at Gryffestone, and be done with her.

“Yes, of course,” she expelled a relieved sigh. Her eyes darted around the room. Beyond an open door, she could make out one bed in the room. “There is only one bed?” Hazel regretted that her voice came out resembling a high-pitched squeak.

“You will sleep in the bed, Miss Grimm. I’ll keep watch here, in this chair,” Luc said as he plopped down in the only comfortable chair in the room. It wasn’t large enough for his tall, muscular frame, but it would have to do. He shrugged. At least the woman was talking now. She had remained silent for the last hour in the carriage after he admonished her for complaining non-stop.

“Eat,” he waved toward the cold collation on the table. He continued, “And get to bed. Hopefully the rain will cease and we can get an early start to Gryffestone on the morrow, eh?” A smile turned up the corners of his mouth when he noted the whiskey on the table beside him. He poured himself an ample dose of the dark, amber liquid. Whiskey, it was the very best thing about being in Scotland.

“You are imbibing in spirits?”

Again, she gave him that wild-eyed look then those same eyes narrowed into a stony, gray glare.

“Yes. I am indeed. It is a fine whiskey. Would you care for a dram, Miss Grimm? It will warm your bones.” He seriously doubted it would do much to loosen up a disagreeable spinster like her, though.   

“I wish you would not drink. Men lose their wits when they drink strong spirits,” she informed him in a derogatory tone.

Her tongue was bitter, true, but there was that haunted, fearful look in her eyes again. Yes, yes, whiskey made men lose their wits and breasts made them sin. She had lists of sins and he had heard them all since he first laid eyes on her earlier that morning. Little wonder Miss Grimm was a spinster, and shoved as far back on the shelf as a woman could get. He smiled at his own witty jest. What Miss Grimm needed was several shots of whiskey and a good, hard…tumble. The corner of his mouth lifted.

Hazel wondered why he smiled. He seemed amused. He had already demonstrated that he could be trusted. He saved her life after all. She would not have survived the assault he spared her from this day. Why then did she fear him? Was it those black slashing brows or his unreadable green eyes. Perhaps it was the sheer size of him. The man was tall with the broadest shoulders she had ever seen. His arms and legs were muscled; in fact, the man was nothing but muscle. She didn’t understand it. She felt uneasy and on guard around him every moment.    

She was still glaring at him. He grimaced. He was certainly not the man to give that woman a tumble. Although that riot of bright red hair fanned out upon a pillow might be a sight to see, he was not willing to go far enough to find out, thank you very much.

“Fine. I won’t drink,” Luc growled in irritation as he slammed the crystal glass upon the table. Yes, a day of Hazel Grimm’s company was more than enough. He rose and walked to the table. He perused the cold platter that had been left for them. He picked up a hunk of bread and took a bite. It was tasty, fresh even. With one physical need completely ruled out for the evening, for he would not be going there with her, he turned to fulfilling another. The food was fresh and flavored well despite it being cold.   

“You will come eat,” it was a polite command.

“I don’t think I could,” Hazel shook her head. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Yes, that was it. He made her nervous. He watched her too closely. That was why she was uneasy in his company.

Did she frown all of the time? “Suit yourself,” he shrugged and threw a grape into the air, catching it with his open mouth. Quite amused by her snort of displeasure, he sat and entertained himself with some more tidbits upon the platter. A piece of beef, a nip of cheese. His entertaining game lasted all of five minutes, until he realized she was still staring at him wide-eyed. It unnerved him to the point he decided to do something about it.

“Miss Grimm, would you mind not staring at me? If you continue, I shall be forced to believe that you find me devilishly handsome and wish to be seduced this eve. Do you want to be seduced? Do you wish to let me have my way with you?” He pretended to begin to rise from the bench.

“Sorry, I – I,” she stammered as she hastily rose. “No! I will retire,” her voice was a desperate whisper, her cheeks flamed bright red, not far from the color of that glorious hair.

“Do not bolt the bedchamber door, Miss Grimm,” he barked. He smiled inwardly. He could be just as disagreeable to her as she had been to him the entire day.

“Why not?” She whipped around to face him.

He noted a flash of defiance in her eyes. Hmm? Interesting. He explained calmly, “If someone came in through your window, I could not prevent them from taking you.”

“Oh. I see.” Another blush “I will not bolt it then.”

“Suit yourself.”

He watched as she picked up both her bags and entered the bedchamber. She closed the door. He did not hear the bolt slide.

Hazel admonished herself. When he mentioned seduction, why had she felt…pleased? She never wanted to, well, she just could not. The sins of her past could not be erased. She could not think of marriage or that. Ever.

Why after all these years did she feel disappointed? She shook her head. She was being a complete ninny. It was the first time she had ever spent so much time in the company of a man not of her relation. And he was rather handsome. That must be why she was uneasy, timid, and felt quite out of place. Or what was she felt temptation? The kind that would lead her to sin. No! She would overcome such feelings and prevail.   

With a sigh of relief and a grin, Luc returned to the chair and his whiskey. He downed what remained in his glass then poured himself another. He lifted it toward the closed door and whispered, “Thank goodness there are warm, talkative, and willing women in the world who appreciate men, for Miss Hazel Grimm is certainly not one of them.” Pleased with himself, he let go a boisterous laugh.

It was too bad that Miss Grimm was such a sourpuss. Her fiery hair could indeed tempt a man. Those plump breasts, what little evidence he saw of them earlier, and when not flattened by that ridiculous binding she insisted upon wearing, could definitely fill a man’s hand. He found her gray eyes quite interesting when she wasn’t glaring at him, or when they grew wide with fear. He wondered for a moment, and only a moment, what desire would do to the silvery blue of her large eyes.

He sighed. Hazel Grimm was the worst kind of spinster, for she truly hated men. So he would think on her no more. It would be a complete waste of his time.