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No Regrets
No Regrets
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Michele Ann gives an overview of the book:

When two friends enter into a marriage of convenience, they solve their financial woes, but stir up feelings they prefer to ignore.  Their path of discovery takes them to London and Paris and throws them into an intrigue designed to tear the flimsy fabric of their arrangement apart.   Caroline Torrington is large, and she wears glasses. Not the sort of woman to attract the attention of London's most notorious rake unless he is after her fortune.   Lucas, Lord Foxhaven, noted  for his wild and reckless behavior, is once again in dispute with his father over his financial excesses. Only his childhood friend Caro can help him out of his predicament.  Little does Caroline know that her voluptuous curves are driving Lucas to distraction. In the midst of deepening mutual attraction,...
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When two friends enter into a marriage of convenience, they solve their financial woes, but stir up feelings they prefer to ignore.  Their path of discovery takes them to London and Paris and throws them into an intrigue designed to tear the flimsy fabric of their arrangement apart.

 

Caroline Torrington is large, and she wears glasses. Not the sort of woman to attract the attention of London's most notorious rake unless he is after her fortune. 

 Lucas, Lord Foxhaven, noted  for his wild and reckless behavior, is once again in dispute with his father over his financial excesses. Only his childhood friend Caro can help him out of his predicament.

 Little does Caroline know that her voluptuous curves are driving Lucas to distraction.

In the midst of deepening mutual attraction, Caroline gets embroiled in a scandal and is kidnapped.  After a dangerous escape, Caroline tells Lucas the whole marriage thing was a huge mistake. Can Lucas convince her that he loves her for herself and not her fortune?

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The outside door crashed back against the stone wall. The antiquated flambeaux quivered in the iron wall sconces. Shadows danced wildly across the walls. A rush of cold air sent a shiver down Caro's back.

Heart pounding, a hot, wet plate pressed to her chest, she swung around to face the ebony horse and black-coated rider clattering beneath the great stone arch and into the vaulted chamber.

Think of the devil and he was sure to appear. Lucas Rivers, Viscount Foxhaven, her erstwhile best friend and rejected suitor, certainly fit the bill. Long jet hair scraped back in a queue, the flickering light chiselled his face into planes and sharp angles. A slash of black brow winged up to match the wry twist on his lips.

Her foolish heart tumbled over. By dint of will, she curbed a smile of welcome. The ton might find his antics amusing, but he'd get no encouragement from her, not any more.

How on earth had he managed to run her to earth? Or was he foxed and had simply lost his way? "If you are here for the trophy ride, you need to enter through the front door. Otherwise you will find the stables across the courtyard." She sounded remarkably calm given the stallion's size and the way it replaced good fresh air with the smell of leather and horse.

He cracked a familiar short laugh. "I know where the stables are." His deep voice resonated off the ancient stone walls and strummed every nerve in her body.

She quelled the flutter of awareness. "What do you want, Foxhaven?"

"You. Your sisters said I would find you here,' He ran a disparaging glance around the cavernous room. "I didn't think you'd sunk this low."

Not low enough, if his presence meant anything. A spurt of anger stiffened her shoulders. "There is nothing wrong with honest toil."

He glowered. "It won't wash, Caro. I'm not leaving until you agree to marry me."

"Then you stay and I will leave."

Metal-clad hooves striking sparks on the flagstone floor, the stallion moved deeper into the kitchen, blocking her exit. "I mean it," Foxhaven said.

She glared at him. "You had your answer a year ago. I see no reason to change my mind."

His sardonic gaze swept over the shapeless black gown and the mobcap she'd borrowed from Lizzie, her maid. "Really? I suppose you would sooner wash dishes than marry me?"

She shrugged. "You've had your little joke. Now, take yourself off, before something breaks and I get the blame."

"I'm leaving, all right."

Then why did it sound like a threat?

He clicked his tongue. The horse picked its way between her and the table, trapping her against the sink's hard edge at her back and a well-muscled thigh on a level with her nose.

She sucked in a breath. "Be careful, you idiot."

He lunged down and caught her around the waist. One swift jerk and she swooped off her feet. She screeched as the ground fell away in a sickening rush. For a moment, she dangled in his strong arm, then he settled her sideways across his lap with a grunt.

"Did you strain your back?" she asked with sugary sympathy.

"I expected you to be heavier."

Heavier? Wasn't it enough that she was larger than a Norfolk ewe before shearing, according to one local wit? And he was being kind.

The sight of the handsome face so close to hers froze any words she might have dredged up. The feel of his arm in the hollow under her ribs, his warm breath fanning her cheek, caused an unexpected flutter in the pit of her stomach. How could she respond in this shocking way to his touch when she ought to be angry?

Blast it, she was angry. She slammed her fist against his shoulder. A shock wave jolted up her arm as if she'd struck an oak tree. "Ouch. Foxhaven, put me down." To her disgust, she sounded utterly feeble.

"Not until you say yes." With a delicate touch he brought Maestro around the table and headed down the passage toward the assembled company.

A horrid premonition entered her mind. Her stomach dropped. "You can't mean to take me in there."

"Can I not?"

 Does he, or doesn't he?...... You will only know if you read the story.

michele-ann-young's picture

Real women deserve romance too, and I think this book proves it.

About Michele Ann

Raised in England, I live and write in Canada. I majored in history and have always been fascinated with the Georgian period. Georgette Heyer is my hero! I write Regency Romances and now have 16 stories in print around the world.

I am writing for Harlequin Historicals...

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