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‘Sweet Jane,’ he said, and gazed into her eyes for a moment, before moving his hand to her cheek and caressing it lightly with the tips of his fingers.
Her breath caught, and she almost swayed towards him as the need to feel his arm about her swept over her, but in an instant she had conquered the foolish desire. She did not know this man well enough to care for him—surely she could not be so inconstant. Only a few weeks ago she had believed that she would never feel love or desire again. And now…? Now she was not sure how she felt.
‘You look beautiful, as always.’
‘You flatter,’ Jane said, and laughed. The look in his eyes was having a disturbing effect on her. She felt young and excited again, like a girl at her first ball. ‘But it is most pleasant…and the evening would not have been the same if you had not come.’
I hope you enjoy this new book. I always love writing my stories of love and romance. This one was particularly fun to do, with a beautiful Indian princess with evil in her heart, and a brave man who rescues an Indian boy from a burning hut.
My stories are always about adventure as well as love, and they make me smile as I sit at my computer. They are pure escapism and are meant to amuse and please—so please read them for a few happy hours.
Claiming the
Chaperon’s Heart
Anne Herries
ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. Anne is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: lindasole.co.uk.
Contents
‘If you do this for me I shall be yours and all that I own will be at your disposal,’ the woman said. Her pale olive-toned skin looked smooth and soft in the candlelight, her black velvet eyes as dark as night, but lit from within by a silver flame. She was a beautiful woman, sure of her power, and she sensed that he wanted her so badly that he could almost taste his need. The perfume she wore was heavy and had the exotic tang of musk and ambergris, and the jewels around her neck were worth a king’s ransom. She was the daughter of an Indian prince and the granddaughter of an English earl, proud, haughty and vengeful—and the hatred of the man who had spurned her burned deep within her breast. ‘He used me cruelly and deserted me—I want him dead. Only his death will assuage the wrong he has done me...’
She leaned closer to the man, allowing him to inhale the scent of her body, knowing that she had the power to drive men to near madness in their desire for her. She could have had almost any man she wanted and yet one had eluded her and it was he alone she wanted. He had refused her offer to lie with her, to wed her and live in her palace, had told her that he did not love her—and she felt the bitter pain of his rejection like a snake’s sting. He would learn that he could not walk away from her! In her anger she was lost to all sense of reason. She would make certain that he died a painful death for deserting her.
This poor fool who looked at her like a starving man was not the only one she had promised her favours, but the other was unlikely to do her bidding, though he loved her. This one had his own reasons for giving her the revenge she craved; she had picked him carefully and she knew that he would do whatever she
