Шрифт:
Praise for Elizabeth Mayne’s first novel, All That Matters “Splendor of G—” Evan gasped. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Author Note Weddings by De Wilde Copyright
Praise for Elizabeth Mayne’s first novel, All That Matters
“...a terrific debut from a talented and imaginative new author...”
—Romantic Times
“The author has created a fictional world that will capture the hearts and minds of her readers.”
—Rendezvous
“...the story of Cara Mulvaine and Gordon McKenna will captivate readers of Irish and Scottish historicals... a passionate and well-told romance.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Splendor of G—” Evan gasped.
His angry wife stepped gracefully out of her night rail, wadded the cloth into a ball and threw it at him. He barely caught his shout of triumph at the back of his throat and changed it into a grunt as the gown dropped to his feet.
“Now what, you unconscionable brute? Shall we have tea?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Unconscionable brute, is it?” Evan deliberately shook his head as he lifted one hand away from his rigid pose and crooked a finger at her.
“I’ll not apologize now, you rotten curl I won’t take back a single word I’ve said.”
“Then we’re right back where we started. Only you’ve taken it a step farther... coming into my room...intending to break my resolve with your woman’s wiles. I won’t be bound to your whimsy, Elizabeth Murray MacGregor. A husband has rights over his wife.”
Dear Reader,
In her third historical for Harlequin, Man of the Mist, Elizabeth Mayne tells the heartwarming story of childhood sweethearts who elope, yet, believing they have made a mistake, agree to keep their union a secret. Now, five years later, they must unravel their feelings of hurt and betrayal and learn to accept that their love was meant to be.
Romantic Times had great things to say about this month’s delightful new Medieval from award-winning author Margaret Moore. The Norman’s Heart is “A story brimming with vibrant color and three-dimensional characters. There is emotion and power on every page.”
Our other titles include The Fire Within. from longtime Harlequin Historical author Lynda Trent, a haunting love story of two people who must choose between the past and the future. And Birdie, by Taylor Ryan, the Regency Bra story of a young woman who must battle countless odds on her journey to happiness.
Whatever your taste in reading, we hope Harlequin Historicals will keep you coming back for more. Please keep a lookout for all four titles, available wherever books are sold.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Man of the Mist
Elizabeth Mayne
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ELIZABETH MAYNE is a native San Antonian who knew by the age of eleven how to spin a good yarn, according to every teacher she ever faced. She’s spent the last twenty years making up for all her transgressions on the opposite side of the teacher’s desk, and the last five working exclusively with troubled children. She particularly loves an ethnic hero and married one of her own twenty years ago. But it wasn’t until their youngest, a daughter, was two years old that life calmed down enough for this writer to fulfill the dream she’d always had of becoming a novelist.
To Alice Maynard Lord
You’ve kept me sane this past year, cheered me and helped me remember all those good people and wonderful times. God love you.
E.L.M.
Prologue
Edinburgh, Scotland
May 1, 1802 Belltane
“Stars! This bloody wool itches,” William Grey muttered, scratching at his bare shanks underneath his borrowed kilt.
Evan MacGregor’s laugh echoed down the narrow corridor leading out to the jakes The inn’s lighting was poor, but his vision very sharp as he leaned closer to a scrap of mirror tacked to the wall. He checked the folds of linen and lace spilling over the high collar of his black velvet jacket. Then Evan flattened three fingers and rubbed them upward, inspecting the results of his newly acquired skill of plying a razor blade
“You’ll never pass for a Highlander, Willie, if you keep scratching your arse.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve worn a damned kilt all your life. I’m only stuck in this blasted skirt to get inside Bell’s Wynd, damn it all.”
Evan turned from the mirror. The knife-edge pleats of his red-and-green MacGregor plaid swung easily about his knees. He gave his Cambridge roommate a thorough inspection, then straightened the drape of Willie’s philabeg. Evan thought it best to cater to the Englishman a wee bit.
“It’s a rare man who wears a philabeg day in and out in Scotland these days, Willie. A whole generation got in the habit of wearing britches, like my da, and now me. ’Course, that’s because you English made wearing a tartan a capital crime. Holding on to it got a man and his whole family deported.”
Willie’s bulldog jaw twisted in a grimace. “Then why in the bloody hell do we have to get suited up in one tonight?”
“For the same reason we suffer silk stockings and knee britches to get inside Almack’s, you dolt—because that’s where the prettiest women are!