Amy Fetzer - Taming The Beast

Friend. Nanny. Stand-In Bride.

When a man needs the touches

only a woman can provide…

he turns to Wife Incorporated!

“Smart And Beautiful.”

Laura felt her feathers rise. Did everyone have to mention her face in the first ten seconds of conversation? “Want a cookie?”

“No, thank you.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like chocolate-chip cookies?”

“No.”

“Aah, you won’t come into the light to get one.”

Silence.

“What else do you deny yourself because you choose to stay in the dark, Mr. Blackthorne?” With her last word, she tossed a cookie in his direction. His hand shot into the light, snatching it from the air.

“And what will you deny your daughter?”

He scoffed. “You know nothing of me, beauty queen.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Just as you know nothing of me…beast.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the world of Silhouette Desire, where you can indulge yourself every month with romances that can only be described as passionate, powerful and provocative!

Popular author Cait London offers you Gabriel’s Gift, this April’s MAN OF THE MONTH. We’re sure you’ll love this tale of lovers once separated who reunite eighteen years later and must overcome the past before they can begin their future together.

The riveting Desire miniseries TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: LONE STAR JEWELS continues with Her Ardent Sheikh by Kristi Gold, in which a dashing sheikh must protect a free-spirited American woman from danger.

In Wife with Amnesia by Metsy Hingle, the estranged husband of an amnesiac woman seeks to win back her love…and to save her from a mysterious assailant. Watch for Metsy Hingle’s debut MIRA title, The Wager, in August 2001. Barbara McCauley’s hero “wins” a woman in a poker game in Reese’s Wild Wager, another tantalizing addition to her SECRETS! miniseries. Enjoy a contemporary “beauty and the beast” story with Amy J. Fetzer’s Taming the Beast. And Ryanne Corey brings you a runaway heiress who takes a walk on the wild side with the bodyguard who’s fallen head over heels for her in The Heiress & the Bodyguard.

Be sure to treat yourself this month, and read all six of these exhilarating Desire novels!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

www.millsandboon.co.uk

was born in New England and raised all over the world. She uses her own experiences in creating the characters and settings for her novels. Married more than twenty years to a United States Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.

Dedicated with love to my oldest son, Nickolas

For “squishy” hugs and “mambo with me” moments.

For never being afraid to kiss me in front of your friends.

For making me laugh, really listening when I lectured,

and wanting this one for yourself. You’re a real

gentleman, Nick, and you’ve made me very proud.

You’re destined to be a true hero.

I love you.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Laura Cambridge looked up at the gray stone castle and wondered what she’d find inside. Prince Charming or the dragon?

The dragon most likely, she thought, if there was any truth to the gossip the townsfolk were more than willing to share during the ferry ride to this beautiful little island. Did Richard Blackthorne know how much he was feared, she wondered, her gaze moving over the ominous stones and the arched windows as the cab proceeded up the steep driveway. Lord, the structure even had turrets and crenellations. And a tower.

Laura saw only the loneliness of it all.

“Ma’am,” the driver said when he stopped before the huge house. “You sure you’re supposed to be here?”

Why did everyone in this little island village ask that, as if she were walking to her execution? Blackthorne was just a man, for pity’s sake. “Oh, yes, I’m sure, Mr. Pinkney,” she said, without looking at the middle-aged cabdriver.

“Mr. Blackthorne ain’t exactly the most congenial sort, you know.”

“With everyone acting as if he’d take a bite out of them, it’s a wonder, don’t you think?” She looked at him now, arching a brow.

He reddened a bit, then looked back at the house. “Idea had to come from somewheres,” he drawled, then rolled out of the driver’s seat to get her bags.

Laura left the car, walking with him up the steep front steps.

Summoned like a serf to the king, she had been hired to help Richard Blackthorne’s four-year-old daughter adjust to living here. To living with a recluse, a man locked in a castle and shielded from any human contact. Oh, this was going to take some work, she thought, for she knew from the gossip that no one had set foot inside this house, except delivery personnel, in four years. Laura felt instant pity for the little girl, who’d just lost her mother and had been kept from her father. Laura was here early to grow accustomed to the surroundings before the child arrived.

Mr. Pinkney set her bags down. She turned to pay the man and found him jotting something down on a slip of paper. As she handed him the fare, he handed her the paper.

“This here’s my number. If you’re needin’ a ride outta here or anything, you just give me a holler.”

She was touched, but it wasn’t necessary. “He’s not a monster, Mr. Pinkney.”

“Yes, ma’am, he is. He snaps and growls at anyone who steps on his land and he made mincemeat out of the delivery boy, and he was just bringing in groceries. I hate to think of what he’d do to you.” When Laura gave him a determined look, Mr. Pinkney looked up at the castle. Sighing, he went on. “This here house was built by a man years ago for his bride. She wanted to live like a princess, and he designed and built this house for her. Had every stone brought over from the mainland, some all the way from England and Ireland, to hear tell it. She died before it was finished, or before the fella had a chance to marry her.”

How sad, she thought, then tipped her head. “You act as if it’s cursed or haunted or something.”

Mr. Pinkney said nothing, staring at the wide-arched double slabs of wood as if they were the mouth of a cave. Haunted my fanny, she thought, and lifted the cool brass knocker, smiling to herself. It was the head of a dragon. Well, Mr. Blackthorne, if you wanted to keep the public away, you’re certainly doing a good job at it. She let the knocker fall.

Instantly a voice came over the intercom to the right of the doors. “Come in.”

The voice was deep, sandy-rough, the growling sound of it sending shimmers of apprehension over her skin.

“See what I mean?” Pinkney said.

“Hogwash,” she replied firmly, and opened the door, stepping inside. A small lamp on a beautifully carved side table cast the foyer in shadows. She set her purse and briefcase down, then turned to find Mr. Pinkney pushing her bags inside and making a hasty retreat back to the front steps. But that didn’t stop him from getting an eyeful of the house, she thought. She flipped on the light switch, and the foyer was flooded with light. He flinched and back-stepped farther.

“You call, you hear,” he said, his southern drawl more pronounced.

His attitude, much like that of the folks she encountered in town—the shock, the warnings, and mostly the horrid way people felt they could openly ridicule a man they’d never met—made her feel unaccountably protective of Mr. Blackthorne.