Tuesday, February 23, 2010
BOUND BY HONOR is now available at Amazon.com.
Harrison Jackson must defend his family against British spies, Colonial advocates, and himself. Secret meetings are destroying his good name, and nightmares from a life he thought buried threaten more than his reputation.
Victoria Greyson steps onto Boston streets and back into Harrison's life without warning. She wouldn't blame him for hating her, but his rage will have to wait. Her sister is dead and Victoria intends to extract revenge on the man responsible.
While Harrison fights to keep his past a secret, Victoria and Colonial Independence demand more than he wants to give--and neither of them will be denied.
Consciousness thudded against Victoria's brain and forced her to face reality. The effort it took to open her eyelids has rewarded with stabbing spears of light striking the backs of her vision. A fuzzy shadow walked toward her. Her tongue flicked at the wadded linen in her mouth, surprised that nothing was there. His arm tormented her shoulders as he lifted her and pressed something cold to her lips.
“Drink,” he said.
The words reverberated around her head like a kite bouncing in a windstorm. Her jaw screeched open and he poured the liquid in. She sputtered and gasped, but he continued until the glass was drained. “Are you trying to poison me?” she asked.
“You did enough of that on your own,” Harrison said.
“I never want another glass of wine.”
She positioned her fingertips around her face for support. “Wasn't I drinking wine?”
“Bourbon? I don't even like bourbon.”
“You mentioned that.”
She scrapped her tongue against her teeth, flinching at the riveting noise then looked at him through bleary-eyes. “What else did I say?”
“Nothing I'll hold against you.” He opened the window but mercifully left the curtains drawn.
“Why not? I'm sure I gave you ample ammunition.”
He sat next to her and she grabbed the side of the bed to offset the pitch. Please don't bounce. Gently, gently.
“Because as much as I have fought against it, and I truly hate to admit it, I still love you Victoria Greyson.”
“I'm gonna be sick. Move.” She shoved against him and stumbled to the chamber pot, dragging a sheet tangled around her ankle. It started with dry heaves, and she prayed she'd make it in time. She pushed the pounding in her head to the side and clutched the cold metal to her cheek. It was soothing, but temporary. Belching loudly, she reinforced her dislike of bourbon. In between waves of burning bitterness, she begged God to kill her. Now and fast would be glorious, anything to end her agony.
Relatively certain she would no longer need the pot, she staggered toward the bed with a cloth pressed to her mouth. Her bed had been straightened and turned down, her pillows fluffed. Harrison stood at the side of it.
“Oh. No,” she said. “Are you still here?
He laughed and held the blankets back for her.
She crawled in and hugged her pillow. “Don't think this will undo what you said.” She shivered and closed her eyes. “But I will need it repeated when I'm better.”
“Endlessly. Now, rest.”