Wilful Fate

By Serena Fairfax
$2.00 Rating: Not yet rated.
Published: May 13, 2012
Words: 46,516 (approximate)
Language: English
ISBN: 9780957040540

Short description

Lively Jacintha Fleming runs a clothes shop in the country from a converted barn. Up in London for the day buying stock from rag trade wholesalers, she wanders into an old churchyard and discovers an epitaph immortalising a notorious seventeeth century highwayman and womaniser, Claude Du Vall. The epitaph is so tantalising that she decides to find out all she can about him.

Extended description

Here lies Du Vall; Reader, if male thou art,
Look to thy purse, if female, to thy heart.
Much havoc did he make of all
Men he made stand and women fall...
Who were you? Jacintha nudged her small white van through the press of traffic, her imagination tantalised by the epitaph she’d seen just an hour earlier on a crumbling tombstone. The shade of the ancient London churchyard had provided welcome respite from the unseasonably warm May day and her haggling with veterans of the rag trade. She glanced in the rear view mirror, her berry- brown eyes dancing with satisfaction at the pile behind her semaphoring contemporary and classic labels. And what would Du Vall have made of it? If she half-closed her eyes she could see him now – a predatory, virile bandit and her lips curved in a wry smile that this man, long dead, long forgotten, could stir her blood. I'm going to Google strip search you, she resolved raking a hand through her glossy gold-dark fall of hair, itching to free him from.. (Read more) Here lies Du Vall; Reader, if male thou art,
Look to thy purse, if female, to thy heart.
Much havoc did he make of all
Men he made stand and women fall...
Who were you? Jacintha nudged her small white van through the press of traffic, her imagination tantalised by the epitaph she’d seen just an hour earlier on a crumbling tombstone. The shade of the ancient London churchyard had provided welcome respite from the unseasonably warm May day and her haggling with veterans of the rag trade. She glanced in the rear view mirror, her berry- brown eyes dancing with satisfaction at the pile behind her semaphoring contemporary and classic labels. And what would Du Vall have made of it? If she half-closed her eyes she could see him now – a predatory, virile bandit and her lips curved in a wry smile that this man, long dead, long forgotten, could stir her blood. I'm going to Google strip search you, she resolved raking a hand through her glossy gold-dark fall of hair, itching to free him from the dusty pages of history.
‘Dammit- should've taken a left at the lights,' Jacintha muttered. Her ditzy preoccupation with lady-killer Du Vall had sidetracked her into unfamiliar territory – an upscale residential area of London where cream, stucco fronted, four-storied Victorian houses overlooking a tree-lined garden square rose behind immaculate black railings.
The dusty road suddenly glistened with a treacherous oiliness...the van began a wild dance of its own. Jacintha’s hands tightened over the steering wheel, her heart pounding as she closed her eyes in the grim realisation that she was skidding out of control. There was a grinding crunch of metal as the van surged through cast iron railings; the windscreen raced to meet her as she was flung forward; shards of breaking glass rained down. The vehicle shuddered to a stop, its wheels spinning wildly, straddling a steep drop across a basement well. This isn’t meant to happen. But the seat belt had saved her from a gory end – that much Jacintha sensed as she slowly opened her eyes, nausea creeping over her.
'A woman driver- surprise, surprise.’ It was a deep male voice tinged with sarcasm and emerging from a kind of fog it took Jacintha several moments to grasp what was happening. The nearside door was being wrenched open- she felt strong hands reach across, unbuckle her seatbelt and slowly hoist her into the solid muscle of his chest. Desperately trying to keep a fragile hold on herself, Jacintha’s heartbeats almost sped off the radar as the Good Samaritan’s eyes, silver grey in a lean, sun-bronzed face, raked her face as he steadied her upright on the pavement. And although she was 5’6”, he was all height, broad shoulders, rock hard body and sensual mouth.
(Less)

Tags

romance horses races wealthfraud jewelleryboutique

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