Shadows rule the darkness. She must embrace them to find the light.
A transcendent daughter’s life should be carefree, but Guinevere’s life has always been a curse. Loving any man could kill him, so she swears to remain a spinster. And when her parents force her into an arranged marriage, she knows the only way to save the mysterious duke she could love, is to break his heart by leaving.
No matter how much Guinevere pushes him away, the Duke of Braxton knows she’s the only woman for him. His magic allows him to hide his identity and follow her wherever she goes. As she cultivates the reputation of the most notorious potion maker in England, he abandons the role of duke for that of Guinevere’s bodyguard Bran.
Years later, a Queen’s command forces them to meet once more as man and wife, duke and duchess. But he can’t keep his secrets forever, and when Guinevere finds out Braxton and Bran are the same man…
He’ll do anything to atone.
And she’ll do anything to keep him safe, even break her own heart.
Book 3 in this historical romantasy series has:
~ Gaslamp fantasy
~ hints of steampunk and witchery
~ a marriage in trouble
~ spicy open door scenes
~ love potion revenge
~ all the groveling
~ women in magical STEM
~Bridgerton meets magic
EXCERPT:
His eyes were golden and glowing, intense, and they’d caught her, trapped her until he stood right in front of her and took her jaw in his hands. A gentle touch that contradicted the angry angle of his jaw, the thin, disapproving line of his lips. Not a single waver in his glamour. It was entirely opaque, almost entirely real but for the sparks of gold around the edges.
Beneath the glamour, he wore no gloves. How odd that what she felt—warm, rough skin—put a lie to what she saw—the finest gloves of an almost blinding white wrapped around elegant fingers.
He brushed his thumb over the curve of her cheek, and something like a growl rippled past the glamour. “What is this?” Voice low and controlled, every word clipped and precise.
“Wh-what is what?”
“I assume he’s objecting to the scratch,” Queen Victoria suggested. “You never did clean up the blood.”
“Who do I have to kill?” he asked, voice low as the rumble of a storm in the distance.
“It was nothing,” Guinevere said. “A small attack on my way here. My guard and I made short work of the fellow.” She stepped to the side, away from his touch and sat back at the table, whipping up the serviette and dipping it into her tea. Uncouth, but she needed desperately to wipe away the mark that drew her husband’s gaze.
He sat roughly beside her and yanked the serviette out of her hand, caught up her chin again and pressed the cloth to the scratch. He cleaned it gingerly, his glamoured face passive.
Queen Victoria clapped. “Oh, wonderful! I knew I was right. No one better than a husband to protect his wife.”
Meet Charlie Lane
Charlie Lane traded in academic databases and scholarly journals for writing steamy Regency romcoms like the ones she’s always loved to read. When she’s not writing humorous conversations, dramatic confrontations, or sexy times, she’s flying high in the air as a circus-obsessed acrobat.