Ramblings From This Chick: A Historical Christmas Event with Tamara Gill

Wednesday, December 4, 2019

A Historical Christmas Event with Tamara Gill

Tamara is an Australian author who grew up in an old mining town in country South Australia, where her love of history was founded. So much so, she made her darling husband travel to the UK for their honeymoon, where she dragged him from one historical monument and castle to another.

A mother of three, her two little gentlemen in the making, a future lady (she hopes) and a part-time job keep her busy in the real world, but whenever she gets a moment's peace she loves to write romance novels in an array of genres, including regency, medieval and time travel.

Tamara loves hearing from readers and writers alike. You can contact her through her website www.tamaragill.com and sign up to follow her blog or newsletter or alternatively, visit her on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, and follow her on Amazon and BookBub to receive notice of new releases and pre-orders.

Derbyshire, Winter 1800

Set up: My heroine Lady Mary Dalton believes that Lord Weston, a neighbor and friend would suit as her husband. He’s from her county, lives close by to her family’s estate and would enable her to keep the country lifestyle she adores. She would be perfectly content to stay in the country when Lord Weston enjoyed the Season without her and if she marries his lordship, this is what she would do. Of course, her brother's best friend the Duke of Carlton does not believe Lord Weston would suit Mary, but then he soon discovers she wouldn’t suit anyone but himself. This scene is just after Mary makes a fool of herself with Lord Weston by trying to kiss him, and his grace catches her, quite literally.

Mary lunged at his head, kissing him before he could finish what he was about to say. Their teeth cracked together and horrified Mary felt blood across her tongue as she slid back to earth. She stepped back, heat suffusing her body at the bumbling fool she’d just been.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I do not know…”

He stared at her, his visage one of shock and pity and if the earth could swallow her she hoped it would do so right at this moment.

He cleared his throat, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing at his lip that horrifyingly was bleeding. “I think you should return indoors, Mary. I need to ice my lip and will return to the drawing room soon.”

She nodded, feeling all kinds of stupid. No refined gentleman such as Lord Weston would look at her with anything other than sympathy and she was a fool to think he harbored ideas of them marrying.

Mary glanced down at her gown of lace and ribbons, absurd bows that were not the least fashionable on anyone over the age of five. “I apologize, Lord Weston. It will not happen again.”

She ran, heedless of everything about her, and instead of returning to the drawing room, she entered another door further along that opened into a corridor toward the conservatory.

Mary stifled back a sob as the prickling of tears stung her eyes. Her past five Seasons had been all disasters, and now, after trying to kiss one of her oldest friends she would prefer to die of mortification than have to face him again.

She rounded a corner that led into the conservatory and clashed straight into a wall of muscle. Strong arms came out about her, but her near run had too much momentum and she took him down, landing with a thump on top of him.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.”

Mary went to roll off him and heard a rip near her breast. Looking down she spied one of the gentleman’s buttons on his superfine coat was hooked onto one of her lace ribbons.

“I’m stuck,” she mumbled, placing her legs on either side of him so to free her hands and try and unhook herself from the gentleman. His own hands came around her and he sat up, bringing her with him. She gasped, forgetting the button and ribbon as she glanced up and died a second time that night of mortification.

“Your grace, I did not know…that is to say,” she fumbled for words. “I do apologize for this.”

He stared at her with dark hooded eyes, his mouth set in a thin displeased line. He was angry at her. She expected no less after tackling him just now.

“Here let me.” His fingers joined with hers as they both fumbled to remove the button from the lace. Their heads bent close Mary caught a whiff of his scent, sandalwood and something else, something sweet and delicious that made one want cake.

The duke mumbled something unintelligible, and unable to help herself she looked at him instead of concentrating on trying to remove herself from his lap. Up close he was as handsome as any she’d seen, even Lord Weston who was pretty where the duke was like a replica of a chiseled god.

Certainly the duke’s shoulders were wider than Lord Weston’s, and his legs seemed quite muscular between her own. The thought brought awareness as to how they were sitting. She on top of his lap, her skirts hiked up about her waist and a…what was that hard bulge near her inner thigh?

She gasped and their gazes locked. Mumbling a curse, one she heard as clear as day, the duke ripped them apart, the lace ribbon now an ornament upon his own button before he picked her up and deposited her on the floor beside him.

Lady Mary Dalton fills her time with anything she pleases–and she pleases to do as she likes. With no interest in a husband, Lady Mary is perfectly content to remain in Derbyshire for the rest of her days. However, Mary's parents have other ideas.

For the Christmas festivities at Bran Manor, Mary's brother brings home the Duke of Carlton, an infamous man known for his many improprieties, as well as for his distaste in matrimony. Despite his rakish ways, Mary is drawn to him in the most vexing and exasperating way.

But when Mary stumbles into the Duke of Carlton's arms one snowy eve, an undeniable attraction is set into motion. Suddenly, marriage no longer seems so horrific–for either of them.

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