What a Lady Most Desires (Temberlay #3)
Author: Lecia Cornwall
Release Date: 26 August 2014
On the night before the final battle against Napoleon, Lady Delphine St. James finds herself dancing with the one man she has always wanted, Major Lord Stephen Ives. He makes it clear he has no time for a lady he sees as flirtatious and silly, but as the call to arms sounds, she bids him farewell with a kiss that stirs them both. When he returns gravely injured, she is intent on caring for him, even if his surly behavior tests her patience.
After the battle, Stephen is not only wounded and blind, but falsely accused of cowardice and theft. The only light in his dark world is Delphine, the one woman he never imagined he could desire. But she deserves more than he can give her.
As their feelings deepen and hidden enemies conspire to force them to part forever, can their love survive the cruelest test of all?
Captain Lord Peter Rothdale searched the battlefield, his handkerchief pressed to his nose against the stench. He had to be sure, had to find Stephen Ives and take the vowel from his pocket. If Ives survived to make good on his threats, then Peter would be ruined. If he had to pay the amount of that vowel, he’d have to sell his commission and retire in disgrace—if his father allowed him to come home at all.
He scanned the field. So many red coats, blue coats, green coats, all bloody and blackened, the limbs inside them twisted grotesquely. He felt his gorge rise yet again, and cursed, stumbled on, and tried not to think about what he was treading on. He’d seen Ives fall, but Peter had missed his aim, and the bullet had gone high, and had only hit Ives in the shoulder. He saw the black hole appear in the major’s tunic, saw him arch at the impact, watched the blood spurt. But the major had still managed to hold on to the reins, even when Rothdale’s next shot hit his horse. Ives had still been conscious enough to kick free of his horse as it fell, and then Rothdale lost sight of him. Peter had ridden off the field, lest the same thing happen to him, found a hayloft, and waited until the guns fell silent, and the next day dawned. Only then did he return, and only because he had to make sure Ives was dead.
The ground was slick under his boots, but at least there were no bullets flying. He wouldn’t end up like these poor bastards. Not that everyone here was dead or dying—scavengers scuttled past him, stripping the corpses as stretcher crews searched for survivors, carrying them back to die in one of the overcrowded hospitals in Brussels. They’d take the officers first. Time was of the essence. Rothdale swung his gaze over the gruesome dead, and the even more gruesome wounded, suffering the torments of their injuries. He stopped looking into the faces, reading the horror, the agony. He looked for a dragoon’s uniform instead, for the familiar yellow facings. So many had fallen in the charge. He wondered if it was truly necessary to bother finding Ives, or if the French might have finished the job of killing the bastard for him. There were so very many bodies—even he felt a sense of horror at the slaughter, the sharp nudge of shame along the place where his spine would have been if he’d had one.
About the Author
Lecia Cornwall is a PRO member of the Romance Writers of America’s Seattle and Calgary Chapters. Her background includes all facets of writing, including running a successful freelance writing business specializing in direct marketing and advertising. Both history and writing have been lifelong passions. Lecia currently lives and writes in Calgary, Alberta, the heart of the Canadian West.