By Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
"Her marriage to speeding American delivery tycoon Jeff Birmingham signs the start of a superb new lifestyles for Raelynn Barrett. within the loving defend of her husband's embody, the soreness of loss is decreased, as is her anger over her family's tragic and undeserved shame. yet try out as she may perhaps, Raelynn can't shut her ears to the tough accusations and whispered rumors approximately her new wife that buzz round her head like bees. and she or he can't deny what her personal eyes see, notwithstanding the pictures prior to her appear to model her darling Jeff because the worst kind of legal, forcing her to escape his wish and his love.
Yet Jeff understands he's blameless --- even though he's ignorant of the conspiracy that has shrouded his marriage in secrets and techniques and now imperils it with lies. And he'll oppose the treachery with each fiber of his being to be able to defend his threatened happiness --- to win again the belief of the girl he cherishes ... and safe his position eternally in his liked Raelynn's heart.
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Extra resources for A Season Beyond a Kiss (Birmingham, Book 2)
Nature in its most primitive and beautiful form. The kind of beauty that makes you catch your breath. A stillness. A sense of danger, and with it a pull of excitement. Elemental. The word could have been created for them. A gap opened in the circle for them. Directly in the centre of the cavern stood a throne. Suspended above it, on a thick silver cord that descended from the highest point in the cavern’s roof, was a huge globe. Lit from the inside, its ghostly light cast a myriad of shadows across the glittering surfaces of the cavern.
And excited, too, there was no denying it. The boat rocked as it crested a particularly high wave, and she clutched anxiously at the sides. “Try to get some rest,” Struan said. “Rest! ” Iona muttered. But she dropped down into the hull and curled up, pulling the furs tight around her. ” His voice was like his fur cloak—warm and comforting. It made no sense, given the circumstances, but she believed him, though she saw no need to tell him so. A man less in need of reassurance she had never met. Not a man, a Faol, she reminded herself as her lids grew heavy.
The full moon. The throne was a massive wooden construction with red velvet hangings. The carpet upon which she stood led directly towards the steps at its foot. A bell pealed once. The Faol people, all save the cordon of women, dropped to their knees as a tall figure, flanked by two wolves, entered the cavern from a fissure in the rock. Her guard obscured the man’s face from Iona as he took his seat. A circle of gold sat on his black mane of hair like a crown. Gold there was, too, on the buckle of his broad belt, from which hung a claymore with a jewelled hilt.