Here is the next in my series of spotlights on the novellas in Moonlight Madness. Preorder for October 15th at the low preorder price for eight wonderful stories. https://books2read.com/u/4Dwnjr

The Haunted Hoyden

By Barbara Monajem

War-weary Lord Felipe reluctantly returns to England, obliged to marry and provide an heir for his father’s marquisate. He has barely stepped off the boat when he’s shot as a suspected smuggler.

Stuck in the country with a strict, elderly cousin, Lily rescues the handsome, wounded Felipe with the help of two friendly ghosts. Felipe is just what she needs to avoid not only boredom, but a wicked plan to curb her scandalous behavior once and for all.

Felipe can’t help but love Lily, but he doesn’t consider himself good husband material. How can she persuade him that he’s precisely what this hoyden needs?

Meet Lily and Felipe

Lily Transom is lively, clever, fun-loving, and curious—and it’s her curiosity about things a maiden shouldn’t know that leads to her banishment to the Dower House in the care of an unpleasant, conniving old lady. Fortunately, two friendly ghosts keep her company and help her rescue a wounded man who can keep her safe.

Lord Felipe Swanheld is the war-weary son of a marquess. He is an excellent impersonator, speaks several languages fluently, and served for years as a spy in France and Spain. He is considered a disgrace by society, but when he ends up wounded and in Lily’s care, he proves that he’s actually the soul of honor.

Excerpt:

“My parents have gone to London, while I’ve been banished here to ponder my sins,” Lily said.

“Sins?” The wounded stranger grinned. “Tsk, tsk.”

She blushed. “Nothing very dreadful—only disrespect and disobedience.”

“Ah. A girl after my own heart,” he said.

There I go again, being bad, Lily told herself. A respectable lady wouldn’t enjoy the innuendo in his voice. A sensible one would send him on his way. Fortunately, though, he was in no condition to go anywhere.

“We’d best get out of here, for they’ll search the ground floor first,” she said. “We’ll take the servants’ stairs. If you go up on your derriere, step by step—”

He snorted.

“What?”

“Ladies have derrieres. Men have arses.”

She huffed. “Up on your arse, then.” She fashioned him a sling from her shawl and helped him to the servants’ stairs. It was touch and go—he was weak and in constant danger of falling—but somehow, they both reached the landing. She peeked into the passageway.

“Can you walk a few steps?” she whispered. “We’re almost there.”

“For my gallant rescuer, I can do anything,” he said, and surprisingly, he did. A minute later, they reached her bedchamber. She unlocked the door, hurried him in, and shut and locked it again. She set the key on the lintel and sagged with relief against the door, her forehead against the cool, smooth wood.

When she turned a few seconds later, the stranger was flat on his back on her bed, fast asleep.