She laughed softly. “Stabbings, shootings, and buildings blown up. I’d say it took a bit of doing to make you come to your senses.”
“As I said, I’m an uncivilized baboon. But I love you, Lily. I need you.”
“I’ve always loved baboons. Especially big, handsome Scottish baboons. I love you too, Ewan. Forever.”
“Aye, lass. Forever.” He kissed her again and it was magical. Lily knew her life would always be joyful and fulfilling with Ewan.
She couldn’t wait to practice those sexual tricks on him that baboon females used to rouse their mates into a monkey frenzy. She wondered whether they would work on Ewan.
She was eager to find out.
THE END
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed reading about Lily and Ewan! I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for men in kilts, and although my husband has never worn one, he is of Scottish descent and remains the man of my dreams. I’m a twin, but hadn’t planned on having twins in any stories. Lily Farthingale had other ideas. As soon as I started writing My Fair Lily, she stopped me in Chapter 1 and told me that I had to give her a twin. An identical twin, no less! So look for Daffodil’s story next. Dillie, as Daffodil is known to her friends and family, is about to meet Ian Markham, a rakehell duke and London’s most notorious bachelor. He is determined never to marry, but we know that the tougher they are, the harder they fall—and Ian Markham, the tough and sexy Duke of Edgeware, is about to fall hard. Read on for a sneak peek at Daffodil’s story, the second in the FARTHINGALE SERIES.
SNEAK PEEK OF THE UPCOMING BOOK:
THE DUKE I’M GOING TO MARRY
BY MEARA PLATT
London is never the same after the boisterous Farthingales move into their new townhouse on Chipping Way, one of the loveliest streets in fashionable Mayfair. With five beautiful daughters in residence, the street quickly becomes known for its so-called bachelor’s curse. The youngest daughter, Daffodil, is horrified to learn the man she has just rescued from ruffians outside her townhouse is none other than the notorious Duke of Edgeware. If the Chipping Way curse holds true, she’s doomed to marry the wretched rakehell. Determined to break the curse, she hastily leaves town, little knowing that the duke, equally determined to remain a bachelor, has just left town as well. With the Farthingale family and the duke’s assailants on their trail, the pair find themselves trapped in the same charming inn during a torrential rainstorm… and wind up falling in love.
CHAPTER 1
Mayfair District, London
November 1818
WHEN DILLIE FARTHINGALE crossed to her bedroom window to draw the draperies before retiring to bed, she never expected to wind up in front of the Farthingale townhouse, elephant gun in hand, worried that she’d just shot the Duke of Edgeware. Not that this season’s most eligible bachelor and dangerously handsome rakehell didn’t deserve shooting. He most certainly did, but not by her.
“Crumpets!” She fell backward after getting off a shot that merely startled the duke’s assailants. She aimed lower, getting off a second shot that almost ripped her shoulder out of its socket with its recoil. Scrambling to her feet, she reloaded and hurried out of the townhouse, shoving open the front gate that led onto Chipping Way, eager to inspect the damage and dreading what she might find.
Her street was one of those charming, quiet streets, a most desired location in London. Eligible dukes did not die on such streets. “Ian, you idiot! Are you hurt? Who were those awful men, and why were they attacking you?”
She knelt beside him, her heart firmly lodged in her throat. Her nightgown and thin wool shawl offered little protection from the midnight chill. Had his eyes been open, he would have been ogling her, for that’s what rakehells did best. Ian Markham, as the duke was known, was as rakish as they came, but he would never dare more with her. She was related to his best friend, and as disreputable as Ian was, he did have a code of honor. Of a sort.
She had never considered Ian more than a mere nuisance deserving of a frown or indignant tip of her chin. Certainly not worth shooting, except for that one instance when he’d thoroughly surprised her by kissing her with enough passion to curl her toes. It was their first and only kiss, a case of mistaken identity in a moonlit garden, for he’d expected another lady to be standing beside the lilac tree where Dillie happened to be hiding while she innocently spied on her neighbor’s dinner party.
Dillie had been trying to forget that kiss for the past two years. No doubt the duke had put it out of his mind immediately.
“Ian?” He appeared to be unconscious, his large, muscled body sprawled beneath the tree she’d practically splintered in half with the force of the elephant shot.