Princess Charming (Legendary Lovers 1)

Kate’s expression remained thoughtful as she eyed Maura. “Now that you have benefited from my theory, Maura, I think you should assist me in my future matchmaking endeavors.”

Hesitating to reply, Maura cast an entreating glance at Ash, who came to her rescue by gently prodding his sister and cousin. “Kate, I expect you to suspend your scheming for this one evening at least. Why don’t you and Skye return to our ball guests so I can be alone with my new wife?”

His blunt hint jolted Katharine out of her ruminations. “Oh, of course.” With a rueful smile, she kissed Maura’s cheek and stepped back while Skye did the same. Then linking arms, the two cousins disappeared behind the row of palms.

When they were gone, Maura shook her head in amusement. “I cannot believe she wants me to aid her. The role of matchmaker is as alien to me as that of Cinderella … although at the moment, I do feel like a fairy-tale princess. This go

wn is worthy of royalty.” She glanced down at her short-sleeved gown of creamy, gold-embroidered lace. “But even though my metamorphosis into princess is progressing, I may never become accustomed to being addressed as Lady Beaufort.”

Maura surprised Ash then by reaching down to grasp both his hands in her own. “I never expected to become your marchioness, Ash, but there is nothing I want more.” Her gaze growing tender, she brought their entwined hands inward to frame her face while gazing up at him.

Love. Her eyes were full of it. Ash stilled, transfixed by that magical look. Her next words enchanted him even further.

“I cannot imagine living without you, Ash,” Maura declared solemnly. “I would never want to. You make me feel treasured, cherished, loved.”

“That is exactly how you should feel,” he said simply, “since I treasure, cherish, and love you.”

At his heartfelt affirmation, a hint of a smile returned to her lips. “How soon can we leave the ball and go home, dear husband?”

“You want to go home now? I thought you were concerned about appearing rude.”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to waste another moment before fulfilling the Wilde family legacy. We should probably wait until the stroke of midnight to honor the spirit of our lovers’ tale, but after that …”

Having similar thoughts, Ash smiled in approval and captured Maura’s lovely mouth again.

Read on for a look at Book Two in

Nicole Jordan’s exciting

Legendary Lovers series,

Lover Be Mine

London, June 1816

“Miss Fortin is not the grasping husband-hunter you seem to think her, Jack. And she certainly is no spineless ninny either—which you will discover for yourself if you ever deign to meet her. You will like her prodigiously, I swear it.”

Recalling his cousin’s ardent prediction, Lord Jack Wilde studied the young lady in question from across the dimly lit garden.

He had yet to contrive an introduction to Sophie Fortin tonight, or even approach her. Indeed, because of the long-standing feud between their families, he’d had to employ subterfuge simply to attend the masquerade ball hosted by her great-aunt.

Sneaking behind enemy lines in disguise seemed a craven way of investigating a prospective courtship, Jack reflected with dark humor. Yet here he stood, garbed as a swashbuckling pirate, observing Miss Fortin with a healthy dose of skepticism.

The gardens of her aunt’s London residence had been converted to an open-air ballroom, gently illuminated by colored lanterns. Undeniably, Miss Fortin stood out among the crowd of costumed dancers like a diamond among lumps of coal.

Jack couldn’t keep his eyes off her, in no small part because she seemed a profusion of contradictions.

For her costume, she wore a glittering tiara and the gossamer, flowing gown of a royal princess, yet her grace and loveliness had little to do with her attire. A demi-mask concealed her eyes but not the delicacy of her face or the sensuality of her mouth. Her hair was an ordinary shade of dark brown, but the lustrous, curling tendrils piled high on her head had a life all their own.

A thoughtful frown drew down the corners of Jack’s mouth. As much as he loathed admitting it, he was intrigued. Judged on outward appearances, Sophie Fortin was a beauty, just as advertised, but with none of the cold remoteness he’d expected. Instead, she had life, vitality, warmth.

That, and a generous, kind smile.

He hadn’t expected the liveliness, much less the kindness or warmth. From what he knew about her, he’d imagined either a submissive young miss or a calculating social climber. Why else would she allow herself to be sold to a widower twice her age for the price of a dukedom?

Watching her, Jack felt a primal tug of desire, despite himself. Granted, his bias against her had softened over the past half hour. However, the notion that she might make him an ideal mate was still impossible to swallow.

He had no intention of courting her, of course. Most definitely he was not in the market for a wife. But he’d had no choice other than to arrange a meeting with her.