By Katharine Ashe
"A haunted fortress, a depraved ghost, and a good-looking lord she's enjoyed forever… What extra might a girl hope?
When good Bea Sinclaire’s scapegrace brother begs for support to rescue a maiden from a haunted fort, Bea seizes the opportunity for event. If purely speeding Lord Peter Cheriot didn’t insist on preserving her. How can she keep a transparent head within the face of bad possibility while all she desires is to be in his palms?
Lord Cheriot could be the capture of London, yet he’s made up our minds to have Bea. Now an evil specter claims her as his virgin bride, and his closing date, All Hallows Eve, is speedy forthcoming. within the race to catch the center of 1 bold girl, it’s each man—and ghost—for himself.
~ ~ ~
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""Katharine Ashe is a superb storyteller, one who by no means fails to make me fall in love."" Romance Novel information
Praise for Katharine Ashe’s writing . . .
“Her characters are clever, shiny and fantastically advanced. Ashe writes with eloquence and power.” Lisa Kleypas, ny instances no 1 most sensible promoting writer
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“Sensationally clever writing.” Barnes & Noble’s middle to center column
“Every girl who ever dreamed of getting a titled lord at her toes will love this novel.” Eloisa James, long island instances top promoting writer on within the hands of a Marquess
“Lushly extreme romance . . . radiant prose.” Library magazine
“An beautiful event for ancient romance lovers.” The lengthy & the quick of It experiences on within the palms of a Marquess
“Emotionally touching and sexually taut . . . The characters are textured, deep and plausible. The writing is powerful and lyrical, simply helping agile, polished discussion and a posh, well-paced plot . . . a pleasant Regency jaunt.” Kirkus publication experiences on How a girl Weds a Rogue
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Additional info for Captive Bride
Not content with the boring but upstanding young men in my hometown, who I knew all too well, and sure some other romantic destiny awaited me, I had searched diligently for my great love in someone more exotic, and fate had cursed me for my desire by giving me what I thought I wanted. For that reason, I had lost everything but my life. I would not search again. More than that, I told myself that I would run away if love came around once more to plague me. It seemed most unlikely that it would find me in Findloss, and that suited me, even if the village and the weather did not.
I doubt they would do it even if asked; there seems to be an almost superstitious dread about the land animals that live here, including the seals that sometimes sun themselves on shore. I haven’t the stomach for the bloody task either. I never even got the knack of wringing chicken necks, so certainly I could not garrote a rabbit. Instead I had to be content with the occasional egg and bit of cheese to vary my diet. I went first to use the privy. The cottage has a few modern conveniences, meaning that an appropriate area was built against the back of the cottage so one needn’t go out into the night or storm to answer the call of nature.
I had believed him then, since his tastes were so depraved. Now I was not so certain, and the idea that my husband might have been keeping still other secrets from me was saddening as well as disturbing. I caught a glimpse of myself in the small mirror I had hung on the wall; vanity should be hidden away, and this was as “away” as it could get. The eyes that looked back at me were filled up with anxiety and perhaps a bit more whisky than they should be.