ISBN: 9780373295210

1 November 1815Ayrshire, Scotland A white froth of waves crashed against the rocks as the solitary figure picked its way along the shore. The morning sky was a cold grey and the fine d… Mehr…

1 November 1815Ayrshire, Scotland A white froth of waves crashed against the rocks as the solitary figure picked its way along the shore. The morning sky was a cold grey and the fine drizzle of rain had penetrated the woollen cloth of his coat and was beginning to seep through his waistcoat to the cotton of his shirt below. Beneath his boots the sand was firm, each step cutting a clear impression of his progress. A gull cried its presence overhead, and the wind that had howled the whole night through stung a ruddy rawness to his cheeks and swept a ruffle through the darkness of his hair. Guy Tregellas, Viscount Varington, ignored the damp chill of the air and, not for the first time, thought longingly of London: London that had no gales to part a man's coat from his back. No incessant rain. No empty landscape that ran as far as the eye could see, with only the hardiest sheep and cattle for company. Guy suppressed a shudder and continued on, avoiding as best he could the mounds of seaweed and driftwood that the sea had cast upon the sand during the night's storm. The pain in his head was dulling and the nausea in his stomach had almost disappeared; the memory of just how much whisky he had drunk had not. And so he continued, walking off his hangover in this godforsaken place. He crossed the stream that ran down to meet the sea, taking care not to lose his balance on the stepping stones, and followed the curve of the shore round. It was then that he saw the body. A dark shape amidst the seaweed. At first he thought it was a seal that had been unfortunate enough to suffer the worst of the storm in open water. But as the distance between him and the shape lessened, he knew that what lay washed upon the shore was no seal. The woman was curled on her side, as if in sleep. The dark sodden skirt of her dress was twisted around her body to expose the white of her lower legs. Her feet were bare and the one arm he could see was bloody and bruised beneath the torn sleeve of her dress. Guy rolled her over on to her back and cleared away the long strands of hair plastered across her face. She was not old, in her middle twenties perhaps, and even in her bedraggled state he could see that she was beautiful. He bent closer, touching his fingers to her neck, feeling the faint flutter of her pulse. Guy had seen too many dead bodies in his life. He breathed a sigh of relief that this was not one of them, and as he did so her eyelids flickered open and a pair of smoky green eyes stared up at him. An angel,' she whispered with something akin to awe. A glorious dark angel come to fetch me.' Her mouth curved to a small peaceful smile before her eyelids closed once more. 'Wait!' Guy gripped at the soft flesh of the woman's upper arms. He shook her, fearing that she was giving up her fight for life. Her body seemed limp and lifeless beneath his hands. He shook her harder, spoke louder, more urgently, all trace of his hangover gone, leaving in its place a tw Fiction Fiction eBook, Harlequin<