I'm so excited to share this book with you. I've been fortunate to have a chance to talk with Gina while she was working on the blurb and her story really interested me. I hope you'll take a moment to read the blurb and excerpt...maybe drool over Scot and then buy her book.
Victorian England c. 1870
Operating as a British spy, Tristan St.James, the new Marquis of Wrenworth, barely escapes Afghanistan with his life in the spring of 1869. He plans to seek vengeance against the traitor who exposed him and for the agent he’s forced to kill. Returning to England, as a lord, he must marry. Haunted by guilt from the horrors of war, he avoids love at all costs, but finds himself drawn to the only woman who is disinterested in him.
Lady Evelyn Hurstine has waited over two years for the return of her love, a man who left for war in the East. But during that time, she suffered a brutal assault, resulting in a child and fear of any man touching her except for the man she once knew. The pursuit by the marquis scares her but her excuses against his proposal dwindle.
Their marriage strengthens into love until she discovers her husband isn’t the safety she believed but the one who killed the man she once loved. Caught in a world of intrigue and mayhem, Tristan must prove his love to her before the traitor destroys them both.
Afghanistan, June 1868
The blade slid inside the skin with ease, like butter. Blood, deep red, seeped around the steel, spilling downward. The victim helped force the weapon into his own flesh, but as the sword sliced into the organs beneath, his hand dropped lazily. The muted gasp of pain, barely audible from the man kneeling before him, registered in the killer’s ears.
Tristan St. James stood, his hand on the hilt of the sword, every nerve inside him on fire. Appalled at what he had been forced to do, he fought against showing his anguish. If there was a Hell, it was here, on Earth, right now in front of him. His vision blurred.
The man before him, Grifton Reynard, looked hard at him. As his robes turned crimson, he gagged and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
“Promise me you’ll take care of her,” he gritted out. “Promise me!”
“I promise. And I will find the bastard who did this,” Tristan hissed, his voice low and angry.
His friend gave a tense nod. He coughed a rattling noise as he choked, blood spewing like a geyser from his mouth. It hit Tristan on his face, adding to the stream from his own wound there, and staining the cream and maroon-trimmed cotton of his robes. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t move, his feet firmly glued to the hard dirt surface. Grifton fell backward, his body thudded against the ground, eyes open but no longer seeing, his mouth askew, his lips and chin covered in his blood.
The sword fell free and hit the ground with a clank, as if it’d hit a rock.
His best friend, and his subordinate in this awful war of intrigue, lay dead before Tristan, by his hand. A pain–deep, gut wrenching and as violent as the act he’d just committed–seized his chest, strangling his heart. Swallowing hard, he shut his eyes for just a moment, an attempt to subdue the pain, to deaden it.
Unable to leave Grifton there, he bent and grabbed the man’s arms, yanked him up and threw him over his shoulder. The lifeless body hung like a sack of grain. Not that Tristan cared. No, his mind was assessing, reassessing and analyzing the material in his head. Like the cold-blooded killer they had made him, he narrowed the field of suspects who could have orchestrated this. Someone with everything to gain and more to lose if it failed.
He’d find out who had betrayed him and his men, the man responsible for their deaths, and kill him.
Amazon - http://amzn.to/10V8SeI
A USAToday Bestselling author, Gina Danna was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and has spent the better part of her life reading. History has always been her love and she spent numerous hours devouring historical romance stories, always dreaming of writing one of her own. After years of writing historical academic papers to achieve her undergraduate and graduate degrees in History, and then for museum programs and exhibits, she has found the time to write her own historical romantic fiction novels.
Now, under the supervision of her three dogs and two cats, she writes amid a library of research books, with her only true break away is to spend time with her other life long dream —her Arabian horse—With him, her muse can play.