It Happened One Nightby Leslie LaFoy
Alanna Chapman knows that no accountant worth her salt would leave town during tax season, but now she has no choice. To honor her aunt's final wishes, the Colorado CPA
In a spellbinding tale that marks the debut of a born storyteller, a beautiful woman finds herself transported back in time. . . to a world of shimmering desire and heartrending danger. . . .
Alanna Chapman knows that no accountant worth her salt would leave town during tax season, but now she has no choice. To honor her aunt's final wishes, the Colorado CPA has come to the mist-shrouded shores of Ireland, intending to stay just long enough to accomplish her mission. But on the mysterious grounds of Carraig Cor, something extraordinary happens: Alanna finds herself catapulted back to the year 1803. Taken for a "seer" who can foretell Ireland's future, she becomes the prisoner of a ruthless privateer...a dangerously attractive sea captain who has no doubt that he can bend this modern temptress to his will, to use her magic powers for his own ends. But when Alanna crossed over to the nineteenth century, she didn't leave her independent spirit behind. Now she's looking for a way to escape the captain's irresistible embraceand his enemy's noticebefore this perilous adventure costs her her heart...and her life.
- Random House Publishing Group
- Publication date:
- Product dimensions:
- 5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 1.00(d)
Read an Excerpt
Alanna scrambled to her feet. Dirt billowed everywhere. She could taste it, could smell it, could feel the grit on her lips. Amidst the powdery clouds, men scurried and animals shied from the melee. But even as she sought an avenue of escape in the confusion, the chaos slowed and the men began to turn toward her. In a heartbeat she found herself in the center of a ring of sweat-streaked, dirt-encrusted faces. She whirled about, searching for a sympathetic expression among them, and found only glittering, feral leers. One unbuckled the sword at his side and let it fall to the ground. The others followed suit.
Part of her wanted to cry, to drop to the ground and curl into a ball until the nightmare ended. Instead, Alanna locked her knees, clenched her hands into fists, and prepared to defend herself.
"We will come to you in good time, rest assured. At the moment, we have a more pressing amusement."
Keeping a wary eye on the other men, she whirled toward the sound of Ashton's contemptuous voice. He stood some ten feet away, apart from the circle and beside one of his men. Another man knelt at their feet, his figure draped in a dark cloak, his shoulders slumped and head bowed in submission.
Ashton chuckled and gestured toward the man at his feet. "And who might this be?"
To her surprise, Alanna's voice came strong and even as she replied, "I really have no idea."
"Are you certain, mistress?" Ashton taunted. "My men tell me he seemed most determined to assist your escape."
Even as the words left his mouth, Alanna sensed that all was not as it appeared to be. She studied her tormentor carefully. Ashton had the numericaladvantage, and, heaven help her, she could never equal the viciousness that blackened his soul. But she couldn't kneel at his feet, bow her head, and silently surrender. She had no choice but to act.
"I asked you who the man might be, mistress," Ashton snarled. "Have you suddenly become deaf?"
"I don't know him," she answered evenly, "but I'll say he's proof that there's at least one decent man left in Ireland." She paused and met Ashton's gaze squarely before she added, "Which makes it obvious that he's not an Englishman."
Angry murmurs rose from the circle around her. Alanna acknowledged the sound but kept her attention focused on Graeme Ashton. As much as his men might be enraged by her insult, she knew the wolves wouldn't move against her until their master gave the command.
"Your tongue is sharp indeed, mistress."
Alanna nodded. "And don't forget my quick wit, either. If I move too fast for you, let me know and I'll slow down."
Snarling, Ashton snatched a handful of the prisoner's long, dark hair. Jerking the man's head up, he gestured toward Alanna and said, "Had you Irish curs half the courage of your women, the contest would be ever so much more interesting."
Kiervan. The man at Ashton's feet was Kiervan des Marceaux. How . . . ? Her heart twisted at the sight of the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, at the dark swollen patch that had been the right side of his handsome face, at the long ebony lashes that lay spiked and still on his high cheekbones. She willed him to his feet, silently begged him to rise and continue the fight at her side. But he didn't move.
"Oh, Kiervan," she whispered.
"Ah, I see that I was correct. He is a friend of yours."
Alanna lifted her chin. "I thought not at the time we met," she replied, "but I can see now that I greatly misjudged the man." Shifting her weight onto one leg, she met Ashton's glare, shrugged a shoulder, and offered him a sardonic smile. "Then again, I didn't have a low mark to measure him against. I hadn't met you."
She saw one corner of Kiervan's mouth twitch upward in the slightest smile. His voice came, low and cracked and dry. "'Lanna--"
The rest of his warning was lost as Ashton drove a booted foot into the center of his chest.
Alanna closed her eyes at the sight and turned away. Kiervan. Poor Kiervan. Trembling and queasy, she opened her eyes and sought Ashton.
He stood facing her, his hands on his hips, his feet spread wide and a predatory light blazing in his eyes. Behind him, Kiervan lay unmoving, a crumpled, beaten mass sprawled in the powdery dust of the yard. The man who stood guard over Kiervan's prostrate form moved to join the circle around her, removing his sword as he went.
"I wish that I could permit you to live," Ashton said, moving toward her, "but the price would be far too high. I will, however, toss your corpse beside that of your champion when we are finished with you. Quite magnanimous of me, wouldn't you agree?"
Vengeance and anger strengthening her resolve to fight, Alanna drew a deep breath and then forced a derisive laugh. "If that isn't a cigar in your pocket, Ashton, you're going into battle unarmed."
and post it to your social network
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews >
I enjoyed this book. What a neat story! Atypical and entertaining. I found this book easy to read and kept moving right along.