This is actually the first time I read this author’s work. A Publicity Assistant, at St. Martin’s Press ask if I would like to read her newest book, THE LEGENDARY LORD. It is the sixth book of her Playful Brides Series.
It was an interesting read. However, it was not something I was expecting. Not in a negative away, but more on the positive side. ~I got used to reading Julie Garwood, Johanna Lindsey, and Jude Deveraux kind of plot. ~
The start of the book was really interesting though. I liked how Christian and Sarah met. It was a really good way to start things.
“In his thirty years of life, Christian had never seen a sight quite like the one that greeted him when he kicked open the bedchamber door. A beautiful woman stood there brandishing a sword at him. Well, brandishing might be a bit of an overstatement. She could barely lift it an inch from the floor, but she was obviously attempting to brandish it.”
The description above is really good. It was one of the things that I like about the book. But the main highlight for me was Christian and Sarah’s personality. I love it. During the 1800’s as far as I can remember, women tend to be more on the side of looking for husband’s during that era. However, with Sarah, I like her domestication, rather than being a debutante.
Christian, on the other hand was so different from the norm of English heroes that I have read. For one, he is painfully shy and he’s stuttering is something I have not encountered, which added a certain interest as I read the book.
As I progress, it became clear that what I was reading is a good and sweet kind of book. And I was right.
The struggles of the people in the book, their support system, and the lengths of the support people on the book were truly outstanding. Each character from the previous books did something to help Christin and was one of the main highlight in the book for me.
The ending it was beautiful. The story ended in the place where everything started. It was such a love story. Though, I am not sure if I will read the previous books in this series, but I will gladly read the next book in it.
~I was given a widget for NetGalley that came from the publisher to review this book.
Below is The first meeting EXCERPT:
Normally, Christian was at a loss in front of a beautiful woman. Well, other than his friends, of course. And this woman was extremely beautiful. She had lush black silky hair that fell in fat curls past her shoulders. She’d obviously unpinned it for her nap. She had pale skin, red lips, an adorable upturned nose, and eyes of palest green, almost crystalline. They were tilted, like a cat’s, and framed by long, sooty lashes. She was dressed as a servant. Had she run away from some estate? Only there wasn’t an estate near here. She must have come far. Regardless, whoever she was, she was an incomparable beauty. And a stranger.
“Get out of here right now, or I’ll cut you in half.” The sword quavered in the woman’s grip, but her eyes narrowed to slits. “I mean it. Leave now. You won’t want to see me angry. I promise you. I’m quite good with a sword.” Again, the sword quivered up another inch.
In other circumstances, Christian would have stuttered in the face of such beauty, wouldn’t have known what to say, would have made an ass of himself. God knew such lack of debonair sophistication was a large part of the reason he’d failed to find a wife in London after all these years. But the audacity of this par tic u lar woman—or, more correctly, his anger at her audacity— mixed with his exhaustion, made his encounter with this beautiful woman quite dif fer ent from all the others.
“What if I told you I have a pistol?” he asked dryly, studying her face to gauge her reaction.
She tossed her curls and lifted her chin higher, but her eyes flashed with a hint of fear. “I have a sword,” she announced, her voice quavering slightly.
“I see that. But I’d like to think we would both agree that a pistol would trump a sword were this little confrontation to turn into actual combat.” He stepped toward her, all the while assessing how carefully and quickly he might disarm her.
Her eyes flashed again. She took a step back. “I . . . I don’t believe you have a pistol. You’d have shown it by now. And I will slice you in half if you take another step closer.”
He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Well, you see,” he said, squinting, “I don’t usually point pistols at ladies. But I’m quickly beginning to consider making an exception in your case. Especially if you continue to threaten me and refuse to put down that sword.”
She did exactly the opposite. She lifted the sword even higher, but the muscles in her upper arms quivered. It had to be a chore for her to keep the thing aloft.
“If you have a pistol, show it. I dare you to,” she said, her jaw clenched.
“Oh, my dear Miss House Thief, don’t tempt me. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time to put down that sword before I force you to put it down. It’s entirely your decision.”
“You’ll have to kill me first. And I’m no house thief.” Her quaking arms lifted the sword even higher, and she had the audacity to jab it toward him slightly.
That was it. Christian was through with this farce. He had to disarm her before she hurt herself or him or, God forbid, the dog, who’d sat in between them watching this peculiar exchange, his ears switching from side to side, no doubt in an effort to hear each of them more clearly.
Christian reached her in two long strides, wrenched the sword out of her hand, twisted her arm behind her back, and pulled her sharply against his chest. “You say you’re not a house thief, but let me see if I have the right of it. You’ve broken into my home and you’re trying to kill me? With my own sword?”
The woman struggled to pull her arm free, but Christian held her fast, her backside squirming against him. He wasn’t about to allow her to scramble away from him. God only knew what she’d scoop up to fight him with next. The dog, perhaps?
“Your home? How do I know this is your home?” she asked in a tone that was both demanding yet edged with fear. And in an accent that was obviously not of a maid, but of a lady. Unexpected.
Her breath came in panting gasps, and her breasts— which Christian had quite a good view of, actually, given that he was close to a foot taller than her— were heaving.
She was frightened. Good. Thieves shouldn’t get too comfortable.
“I damn well know it’s not yours, Miss Thief.”
“I told you. I am not a thief. Let go of me.” She struggled harder to break free of his grasp.
He tightened his hold on her arm. “Is anyone else with you?”
“How long have you been here?”
“This is my third night.”
“You have been in my home three nights?” Outraged, he glanced around the room, searching. “What have you taken?”
“Nothing. How many times do I have to say it? I’m no thief.” She attempted to elbow him in the ribs. He stepped back just in time, mentally thanking his fencing days at Eton for his quick reflexes. He secured her elbow so she couldn’t do it again.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said calmly, “but unless you can tell me in the next five seconds who you are and why the hell you’re in my house, I’ll be happy to toss you out in the snow, thief or not.” She stopped struggling and made a small gasping noise. That was more like it.
“You’re Master Christian?” Her head snapped to the side, and he saw the outline of her patrician profile, though she still had her back to him.
Christian tightened his grip on her warm wrist. “I’m the one asking questions here, not you,” he growled near her ear. The lily scent was definitely coming from her. Her ebony hair was giving off the essence. It smelled . . . good. Too good.
“I’m trying to prove that I’m not a thief,” she insisted. She’d stopped struggling for the moment. “How else would I know your name?”
Copyright © 2016 Valerie Bowman and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Paperbacks.