A guarded widow. A steadfast protector. A voyage that will change them both.
Alice Ashcombe is a widow determined never to trust a charming gentleman again. After years trapped in a cold and controlling marriage in Calcutta, Alice is suddenly free—and utterly alone. With three young children to protect and a gruelling voyage to England ahead, the last thing she needs is the scrutiny of a perceptive and dangerously attractive stranger.
Simon Reeves has spent years navigating the world on family business. The guarded widow he once encountered in the East should be none of his concern. Yet when fate reunites them in Colombo, Simon finds himself unable to walk away—and drawn into a family he never expected to claim.
Trapped together on the high seas, an uneasy closeness grows between them. While Alice keeps her distance, her children have no such reservations. Before long, Simon finds himself drawn into their world in ways he never expected—and slowly breaching the walls around Alice’s carefully guarded heart.
But Simon is more than simply a merchant, and his origins are further from England than Alice could ever imagine. As they sail beneath the stars, Alice may discover that the man who saved her family carries a secret that challenges everything she believes about the world.
A Most Reluctant Widow is a slow-burn historical romance with a sci-fi twist, book 4 in the Reeves of Reeves Hall series, but it can also be enjoyed as a standalone.
Perfect for readers who love: Forced proximity voyage • Protector hero • Slow-burn with a deeply sensual payoff • Found family • Healing from a toxic past • Genre-bending romance with heart
Buy links
Please visit the book’s landing page on my website:
https://mw-author.com/a-most-reluctant-widow/
Meet the author
M.M. Wakeford lives with her husband and son in a London terraced house that gathers dust while she loses herself in her writing. A lifelong reader of romantic novels, she writes in many genres including contemporary, sci-fi and historical romance.
Her stories capture that heady feeling of falling in love, with emotionally rich characters whose journey to a happily ever after is lined with dilemmas, desire and difficult choices. If you’re looking for a page turning romance with high emotion and a good dose of spice, you’re in the right place.
To be the first to hear about new releases, sneak previews and exclusive extras, sign up for M.M. Wakeford’s mailing list at mw-author.com.
A Chance Meeting in Colombo: An Excerpt from The Reluctant Widow
This very morning, Simon had set out to meet with a tea merchant at a teahouse near the market square. There, they had concluded their business satisfactorily, the merchant promising to have the tea delivered to Simon’s ship by morning the following day. And now, Simon was strolling down the main thoroughfare, wondering whether he should complete his journey back to the ship on foot or hire a palanquin to take him there. He did not particularly relish the idea of being carried in a wooden box by fellow human beings, despite his many months of living in Calcutta, where the practice was commonplace. No, he thought. He would walk.
He paused a moment, bending to brush away a layer of dust from the front of his trousers. As he straightened, he felt a sharp blow to his side as something—or rather someone—collided with him. A lady. Acting on instinct, he steadied himself and put out an arm to prevent her from falling.
“Oh,” she cried in alarm. He could not see her face under the bonnet she wore, as she clutched a large white handkerchief to her nose.
“Careful now,” he said, releasing her at once and stepping back. “You are not hurt, I trust?”
She shook her head, still flustered, and lowered the handkerchief. It was then that he took his first proper look at her face, and started in surprise. “Mrs Ashcombe! What in the world brings you to this place?”
She stared at him aghast, as recognition dawned. “Mr Reeves,” she replied in agitation. “I—I could ask the same of you.”
He gave a short laugh, more from surprise than amusement. “It would seem we are both having to make a stop on our journey. Was your ship one of those caught in the storm?”
“Yes, it was.” Her tone was guarded. “If you will excuse me—”
She made to pass him, and he stepped aside, glancing behind her to the shabby building from which she had come. His expression hardened. “Just a moment,” he halted her. “Mrs Ashcombe, you cannot mean to take lodgings here.”
A faint flush rose in her cheeks. “I was directed to it when I could find no other,” she replied, her voice tight. “Quite clearly, this place will not do.”
“No indeed it will not!” He cast a look of undisguised distaste at it. “This place is wholly unfit.”
“I have already determined as much,” she returned, a note of irritation creeping into her voice. “I shall simply have to seek alternative arrangements. Now, if you will excuse me—”
She broke off as his attention moved past her once more to the palanquins waiting in the road, and the children sitting inside. His mind quickly assessed the situation—and did not like what it saw.
She spoke again then, her voice quieter. “I must go now. No doubt we shall find somewhere suitable.” Her smile though, did not reach her eyes.
He considered for a brief moment, already coming to a decision. He did not like it. But there was no other choice. He could not in all conscience leave the widow to her fate in this inhospitable place. “Come with me, Mrs Ashcombe,” he said with a touch of resignation.
She looked at him sharply. “I beg your pardon?”
“My ship is anchored in the harbour,” he explained. “You and your children may rest there while I make enquiries for proper lodgings.”
“Oh no,” she said at once. “I could not think of imposing.”
“It is no imposition, I assure you.”
“No,” she replied, drawing herself up to her full height. “We are strangers, sir, and it would not at all be proper—”
“Mrs Ashcombe.” His tone took on a firmer edge. “You have already seen what is on offer here.” He inclined his head towards the ramshackle building where an unkept looking man sat watching them from the veranda. “Will you expose your children to such conditions, merely for the sake of what is proper?”
Her eyes flashed. “No, of course not, but I can hardly—” She stopped then, as the little girl in the palanquin called out fretfully to her mama. A stricken expression came over her face. For a brief instant, she closed her eyes in weary defeat. When she opened them again though, her composure had returned. “Very well,” she conceded. “Perhaps, the children may rest aboard your ship while I continue the search.”
“I will undertake that search,” he replied quickly.
“There is no need—”
“There is every need.” What an argumentative female! With barely veiled impatience, he rasped, “You cannot be expected to traverse the town in this heat, nor leave your children unattended. Pray, let us not argue the point.”
She hesitated, about to argue it, then wisely kept her counsel.
“Come,” he said more gently, and before she could object further, he placed a light hand at her elbow to guide her forward. She stiffened briefly at his touch, but she let him assist her back into the palanquin.
“You are very obliging, sir,” she murmured with a trace of reluctance.
He turned then to the lead bearer, gesturing for him to follow. He would walk on ahead, leading the way back to his ship.
“Oh, but Mr Reeves,” called out the stubborn lady from inside the palanquin. “You cannot be walking in this heat.”
He glanced towards the bearers then back to her. “If they can do it, then surely so can I,” he said flatly, then proceeded to do just so.
It was not a long journey back to the ship, no more than ten minutes, though under the beating sun, it must have been arduous work for the palanquin bearers. He made certain to pay them well on arrival at the jetty, much to Mrs Ashcombe’s dismay.
“Really, Mr Reeves, there is no need. We have inconvenienced you enough.”
He chose not to respond and turned instead to procure a boat to row them to The Resolute, which was anchored a short distance away. Then, one by one, he helped the children and Mrs Ashcombe into the boat. The young servant girl with them refused his help, looking askance at his outstretched hand and muttering under her breath about the strange sahib. He hid a smile.
Soon, they were on their way to the ship, Mrs Ashcombe sitting rigidly silent beside him, her eyes cast down. Again, he wondered about her animosity. Perhaps she was one of those females that held all men in disregard. He could think of no other reason for her hostile manner towards him. He studied her downcast face for a moment more, then glanced away. No matter. He would shortly find her some lodgings, and she would no longer be his concern.
In this, he was to be proved wrong.