SPOTLIGHT: To Tempt The Devil by C.J. Archer
Blurb:
He’s dark and
dangerous…and she can’t stay away…
Seven years have
passed since Rafe Fletcher fled London. Now he has returned to make amends,
only to find his brother, James, bound for debtors’ prison. Unable to clear
James’s debts, Rafe does the next best thing, promising to watch over his
brother’s betrothed in his absence. There’s just one problem: the shy, sweet
girl he once knew has grown into an alluring young woman—one who wants
absolutely nothing to do with a man like him.
Lizzy Croft isn’t fooled by
Rafe’s dark good looks; she remembers all too well the hot-headed rogue he once
was. But when Lizzy is framed for murder, she has no choice but to trust the
man who once beat his brutish stepfather half to death, the man whose recent
past is shrouded in mystery—the man who is slowly, inexorably winning her
heart. Loving him would be the greatest risk of all…
An excerpt:
This is the scene where the hero and heroine meet. The
heroine, Lizzy, is telling her betrothed, James, that the master of revels,
Gripp, may shut down the theatre company she works for in London (she's a
seamstress). Then the hero walks in.
“You believe Gripp will force the company’s
closure?” he asked.
“Walter Gripp is a vindictive man and he has the
power to do it. There is nothing and no one standing in his way.”
“Want me to kill him for you?” The voice came
from behind her. It was deep and low, quiet yet commanding. The sort of voice
that belonged to men in control, respected men who didn’t need to shout to get
attention.
She recognized it although she hadn’t heard it in
many years. She felt cold through to her bones even as a warm flush crept up
her neck.
“He’s jesting,” James said.
Lizzy didn’t turn around but she could feel Rafe’s
presence the way an anvil feels a hammer’s blow.
“Lizzy, you remember my brother,” James went on.
“Rafe. Rafe Fletcher,” he added, perhaps to remind her that the brothers had
different fathers. He’d left London suddenly on that terrible day when their mother
died. Lizzy had no idea where he’d gone or what he’d been doing, because she’d
never asked James and he’d never offered the information. Indeed, he rarely
mentioned his brother at all and never discussed the incident that had led to
his departure. But Lizzy hadn’t forgotten him. Rafe Fletcher was not the sort
of man a girl, or indeed anyone, could forget.
And now he was back.
She forced herself to turn, but she couldn’t
bring herself to look up at Rafe’s face. She stared at his boots instead. They
were good boots. Sturdy with scuff marks on the toes and…was that a bloodstain?
She suppressed a gasp but not a shiver.
“Light the fire,” Rafe said. “She’s cold.”
James hesitated, then did his brother’s bidding.
Lizzy clasped her hands in front of her and kept her gaze down. Her insides
roiled and surely her face must be the color of burning coals. It felt hot
enough. She tightened her grip on her fingers.
“I doubt you remember me,” Rafe said above her.
Far, far above her. “You were still a child when I left.”
Seven years ago, she’d been fourteen, hardly a
child. She wished she could tell him that, but she just nodded instead. She’d
tried so hard to leave the shy, speechless girl behind, yet here she was again
with her flushed cheeks and twisted tongue. So much for all the practice she’d
put in over the years. While the actors worked on remembering their lines,
she’d studied them: the way they spoke to one another, what they said, when
they laughed or teased or offered a sympathetic frown. She’d forced herself to
imitate them when she’d rather have sat in the corner and hidden behind her
sewing. Eventually she’d felt confident enough to put her observations into
practice. Tentatively at first, then more often and with more people. It had
worked. Old acquaintances commented on how she’d emerged from her shell, and
new ones were none the wiser. None suspected the amount of effort and time
she’d put into remaking herself.
But Rafe Fletcher had stripped all that hard work
away as if it were merely a layer of the thinnest silk. And she hadn’t even
looked at him yet.
“So do you?” he asked. “Want me to kill this
Gripp for you?”
“Rafe,” James warned. “Stop teasing her.”
“Who said I was teasing?”
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